4 November 1882 • Hartford, Conn.
(MS, typewritten, from dictation: NN-BGC, UCCL 02568)
hartford, nov. 4th. 1882.
my dear howells:—
yes, it would be profitable to me to do that, because with your society to help me, i should swiftly finish this now apparently [intermidable] book. but i cannot come, because i am not boss here, and nothing but dynamite can move mrs. clemens away from home in the winter season.
i never had such a fight over a book in my life before. and the foolishest part of the whole business is, that i started osgood to editing it before i had finished writing it. as a consequence, large areas of it are condemned here and there and yonder, and i have the burden of these unfilled gaps harassing me and the thought of the broken continuity of the work, while i am at the same time trying to [build] the last quarter of the book. however, at last i have said with sufficient positiveness that i will finish the book at no particular date; that i will not hurry it; that i will not hurry myself; that i will take things easy and comfortably, write when i choose to write, leave it alone when i so prefer. the printers must wait, the [artists,] the canvassers, and all the rest. i have got everything at a dead stand-still, and that is where it ought to [be,] and that is where it must remain; to follow any other policy would be to make the book worse than it already is. i ought to have finished it before showing it to anybody, and then sent it across the ocean to you to be edited, as usual; for you seem to be a great many shades happier than you deserve to be, and if i had thought of this thing earlier, i would have acted upon it and taken the tuck somewhat out of your joyousness.
in the same mail with your letter, arrived the inclosed from orme the motor man. you will observe that he has an office. i will explain that this is a law office; and i think it probably does him as much good to have a law office without anything to do in it, as it would another man to have one with an active business [attached.
you] see he is on the electric light lay now. going to light the city and allow me to take all the stock if i want to. and he will manage it free of charge. it never would occur to this simple soul how much less costly it would be to [me,] to hire him on a good salary not to manage it. do you observe the same old eagerness, the same old hurry, springing from the fear that if he does not move with the utmost [swiftness,] that colossal opportunity will escape him? now just fancy this same frantic plunging after vast opportunities, going on week after week with this same man, [during] fifty entire years, and he has not yet learned, in the slightest degree, that there isn’t any occasion to hurry; that his vast opportunity will always wait; and that whether it waits or flies, he certainly will never catch it. this immortal hopefulness, fortified by its immortal and unteachable stupidity, is the immortal feature of this character, for a play; and we will write that play. we should be fools else. that staccato post-script reads as if some new and mighty business were imminent, for it is slung on the paper telegraphically, all the small words left out. i am afraid something newer and bigger than the electric light is swinging across his orbit. save this letter for an inspiration, i have got a hundred more.
cable has been here, creating worshipers on all hands. he is a [marv‸el‸ous] talker on a deep subject. i do not see how even [spencer,] could unwind a thought more smoothly or orderly, and do it in cleaner, clearer crisper english. he astounded twichell with his faculty. you know that when it comes down to moral [honesty,] limpid [innocence,] and utterly blemishless piety, the apostles were mere policemen to cable; so with this in mind you must imagine him at a mid-night dinner in boston the other night, where we gathered around the board of the summerset club; osgood, full, boyle oreily, full, fairchild responsively loaded, and aldrich and myself possessing the floor, and properly fortified. cable told mrs. clemens when he returned here, that he seemed to have been entertaining himself with horses, and had a dreamy idea the he must have gone to boston in a cattle-car. it was a very large time. he called it an orgy. and no doubt it was viewed from his standpoint.
i wish i were in switzerland, and i wish we could go to florence; but we have to leave these delights to you; there is no helping it. we all join in love to you and all the family,
yours as ever,
mark.
Textual Commentary
Source text(s):
Previous publication:
MTL, 1:425–27; MTHL, 1:418–20.
Provenance:
See Howells Letters in Description of Provenance.
Emendations and textual notes:
intermidable • [sic]
build • build build
artists, • [insertion handwritten]
be, • [insertion handwritten]
attached. [¶] you • [space added to indicate new unindented paragraph; no extra space between paragraphs in MS, here and hereafter]
me, • [insertion handwritten]
swiftness, • [insertion handwritten]
during • [‘g’ handwritten in right margin]
marv‸el‸ous • [‘el’ handwritten over illegible typed letters]
spencer, • [insertion handwritten]
honesty, • [insertion handwritten]
innocence, • [insertion handwritten]