Buf. Mch. 17.
Friend Bliss:
Out of this chaos of my household I snatch a moment to reply.1 We are packing up, to-night, & tomorrow I shall take my wife to Elmira on a mattrass, with—for she can neither sit up nor stand.—& will not for a week or two. It is a great risk, but the doctor2 agrees that the risk is just as great to have her stay here & worry herself to death with two [ jun ] child-nurses whom she cannot look after, & who neglect her sick child. In three whole months I have hardly written a page of MS. You do not know what it is to be in a state of absolute frenzy—desperation. I had rather die twice over than repeat the last six months of my life.
Now do you see?—I want rest. I want to get clear away from all hamperings, all harassments. I am going to shut myself up in a farm-house alone, on top an Elmira hill, & write—on my book.3 I will see no company, & worry about nothing. I never will make another promise again of any kind, that can be avoided, so help me [God.
Take] my name clear out of the list of contributors, & never mention me again—& then I shall feel that the fetters are off & I am free. I am to furnish an article for your next No. & I will furnish it—that is just the way I make ruin myself—making promises. Do you know that for seven weeks I have not had my natural rest but have been a night-&-day sick-nurse to my wife?—& am still—& shall continue to be for two [ we ] or three weeks longer———yet must turn in now & write a damned humorous article for the Publisher, because I have promised it—promised it when I thought that the vials of hellfire [bottled] up for my benefit must be about [emptied. By] the living God I don’t believe they ever will be emptied.
The MS I sent to be copied is back but I find nothing in it that can be transferred to the Publisher—for the chapter I intended to use I shall tear up, for it is simply an attempt to be full funny, & a failure.4
I When I get to Elmira I will look over the next chapters & send something—or, failing that, will write something—my own obituary I hope it will be.
As to where I got the idea, &c &c &c—got it from Larned & Gray & other friends who got [ if it] from papers—never saw it myself—but you say truly that a newspaper rumor is binding on nobody.5 I see easily enough that your advertisements haven’t anything in them that I can find any fault with—nothing at all. So I was wronging you—not you me.
I like this editorial notice on your page 10 very well—if you think well of it still, & if you think put it in & leave out the notice I sent you.6
If I dared fly in the face of Providence & make one ‸more‸ promise, I would say that if I ever get out of this infernal damnable chaos I am whirling in at home, I will go to work & amply & fully & freely fulfill some of the promises I have been making to you—but I don’t dare! Bliss—I don’t dare!
I believe if that baby goes on crying 3 more hours this way I will butt my frantic brains out & try to get some peace.
Yours, in perfect distraction—
Samℓ L. Clemens.
PS. When
[letter docketed:] [and] Mark Twain | March 17/71
Explanatory Notes | Textual Commentary
Source text(s):
Previous publication:
L4, 365–367; Hill, 47, brief excerpt; MTLP, 60–61, excerpt.
Provenance:Until his death in 1939 the MS was owned by W. T. H. Howe; in 1940, the Howe
Collection was purchased by Dr. Albert A. Berg and donated to NN (Cannon, 185–86).
Emendations and textual notes:
jun • [possibly ‘jan’]
God. [¶] Take • God.—| [¶] Take
we • [‘e’ partly formed]
bottled • bot- teletled
emptied. By • emptied.—|By
if it • ift