Noon.
Albany, Jan. 10.
It is snowing like fury, Sweetheart—but no matter: we have already got the biggest audience of the whole season, so they say—& if my darling were here, now, I would throw into this lecture all the frills I know—& she shouldn’t feel deserted, & unwelcome & abused, either. Poor child, it cuts me to the heart to think I could not conceal my [down-heartedness ] at Owego, & so save you from distress, (for you felt more than you showed, my darling.) But Livy, I knew perfectly well that I would have no confidence in that little audience, & consequently would simply utter lifeless words—words with no animating soul in them—& such a speech is just as well read from a newspaper as heard from a stage. I felt & knew that you would judge harshly of the lecture, hearing it under such [ cr circumstances ], but that you would not if you heard it before a great metropolitan audience. I was a dead body that night, & so I never succeeded in infusing life into that torpid Owego house—& I knew how it would be beforehand—at least I thought I did.1 But I only hate myself for not [siezing ] with pleasure upon that or any opportunity to do your desire, instead of thinking of nothing but myself in the matter. You never would have thought of yourself in such a case. And until I learn to hold you & your wishes above myself & mine, I shall go on groping in the dark & grov‸eling‸ ing in the dirt & making us both unhappy. But I will learn it.
It still snows—& the wind drives it in [ pal ] almost horizontal sheets. What an eternity a lecture-season is! It seems a full week since I went over to Troy ‸Cohoes‸ from here. Sometimes I chafe so at the dragging days that I almost resolve to break my appointments & go home. I wouldn’t do another lecture season unless I were in absolute want, almost.
I am reading Ivanhoe. Ivanhoe was a knight in Sir Walter Scott’s time. He is dead, now. He married Cedric the Saxon, & the fruit of this union was a daughter by the name of Reginald [Front-de-Boeuf ]. The whole six fell in battle at Ashby de la Zouche. Not one of the family survived this melancholy slaughter but a casual acquaintance that ‸ called by the name of‸ Rachel the son of Beowulf. All the characters are well sustained, especially that of the Atlantic Ocean. You know all that it is necessary to know about this romance, now, Livy darling, & so if you have not read it subsequently you needn’t.
I telegraphed these people that I would remain in Troy until this evening, & so they are patiently waiting till I come. Hence I have not yet got my letters.2
Pleasant dreams, [sweetheart ], & blessings on your dear old head.
Sam
[in ink:] Miss Olivia L. Langdon | Elmira |[N. Y.] [return address:] delavan house, albany, chas. e. leland. clarendon hotel, saratoga springs, chas. e. leland. leland hotel, springfield, ill. h.s. leland & co. metropolitan hotel, new-york. s. leland & co.3 [postmarked:] albany n.y. jan 10 [docketed by OLL:] 172nd
Explanatory Notes | Textual Commentary
unusually large and refined. His introduction of
himself was novel and happy. The awkward Yankee manners assumed by
the lecturer were none the less pleasing in that they failed to mask
the characteristics of a finished gentleman. His voice was
singularly beautiful, and his enunciation very clear and distinct. .
. . The lecture was not particularly instructive, but superbly
entertaining. Yet many new ideas respecting the Sandwich Islands
were more indelibly impressed, perhaps, than would have been by a
long dry lecture exclusively descriptive. The fault most seriously
complained of was seeming brevity. . . . The house, as an exception
in Owego, must have been a paying one. (“The Twain
Lecture,” 6 Jan 70, 3)
Source text(s):
Previous publication:
L4, 15–17; LLMT, 361, brief paraphrase.
Provenance:see Samossoud Collection in Description of Provenance.
Emendations and textual notes:
down-heartedness • down-|heartedness
cr circumstances • crircumstances
siezing • [sic]
pal • [possibly ‘pat’; ‘t’ partly formed]
Front-de-Boeuf • Front-de-Boeuf Boeuf [rewritten for clarity]
sweetheart • sweet-|heart
N. Y. • N. Y[] [torn]