TO MISS PEABODY
54 Pinckney St., May 27th, 1842
_Dearest Heart_,
Thy letter to my sisters was most beautiful--sweet, gentle, and magnanimous; such as no angel save my Dove, could have written. If they do not love thee, it will be because they have no hearts to love with;--and even if this were the case, I should not despair of thy planting the seeds of hearts in their bosoms. They will love thee, all in good time, dearest; and we will be very happy. I am so at this moment, while my breast heaves with the consciousness of what a treasure G.o.d has given me--in whom I see more to worship, and admire, and love, every day of my life; and shall see more and more as long as I live; else, it will be because my own nature retrogrades, instead of advancing. But thou wilt make me better and better, till I am even worthy to be thy husband.
Oh, truest wife, what a long widowhood is this! Three evenings without a glimpse of thee! And I know not whether I am to come at six or seven o"clock tomorrow evening--or scarcely, indeed, whether I am to come at all. But, unless thou orderest me to the contrary, I shall come at seven o"clock.
I met Mr. Emerson at the Athenaeum yesterday. He tells me that our garden, &c., makes fine progress. Would that we were there. G.o.d bless us.
THINE OWNEST.
Miss Sophia A. Peabody, No. 13 West-street, Boston.
TO MISS PEABODY
_Salem_, June 9th, 1842--Afternoon
_Dearest wife_,
I love thee beyond all hope of expression--so do thou measure it by thine own love for me, if indeed thou canst continue to love me, after our parting. But never did I love thee better than then; and I am even glad that this vapor of tobacco smoke did, for once, roll thus darkly and densely between us, because it helps me to hate the practice forevermore. Thou wast very sweet not to scold me fiercely, for allowing myself to be so impregnated.
Sweetest, scarcely had I arrived here, when our mother came out of her chamber, looking better and more cheerful than I have seen her this some time, and enquired about the health and well-being of my Dove!
Very kindly too. Then was thy husband"s heart much lightened; for I knew that almost every agitating circ.u.mstance of her life had hitherto cost her a fit of sickness; and I knew not but it might be so now.
Foolish me, to doubt that my mother"s love would be wise, like all other genuine love! And foolish again, to have doubted my Dove"s instinct--whom, henceforth--(if never before)--I take for my unerring guide and counsellor in all matters of the heart and soul. Yet if, sometimes, I should perversely follow mine own follies, do not thou be discouraged. I shall always acknowledge thy superior wisdom in the end; and, I trust, not too late for it to exert its good influence.
Now I am very happy--happier than my naughtiness deserves. It seems that our mother had seen how things were, a long time ago. At first, her heart was troubled, because she knew that much of outward as well as inward fitness was requisite to secure thy foolish husband"s peace; but, gradually and quietly, G.o.d has taught her that all is good; and so, thou dearest wife, we shall have her fullest blessing and concurrence. My sisters, too, begin to sympathise as they ought; and all is well. G.o.d be praised! I thank Him on my knees, and pray him to make me worthy of thee, and of the happiness thou bringest me.
Mine ownest, I long for thee, yet bear our separation patiently, because time and s.p.a.ce, and all other finite obstructions, are so fast flitting away from between us. We can already measure the interval by days and hours. What bliss!--and what awe is intermingled with it!--no fear nor doubt, but a holy awe, as when an immortal spirit is drawing near to the gate of Heaven. I cannot tell what I feel; but thou knowest it all.
Sweetest, it is my purpose to remain here till Friday, when, unless thou forbiddest me, I shall be with thee at seven o"clock. G.o.d bless thee! I have no more words, but a heart full of love.
THINE OWNEST HUSBAND.
Miss Sophia A. Peabody, Care of Dr. N. Peabody, Boston, Ma.s.s.
TO MISS PEABODY
_Salem_, June 20th, 1842--A.M. 11 o"clock
_True and Honorable Wife_,
Thou hast not been out of mind a moment since I saw thee last,--and never wilt thou be, so long as we exist. Canst thou say as much?
Dearest, dost thou know that there are but ten days more in this blessed month of June? And dost thou remember what is to happen within those ten days? Poor little Dove! Now dost thou tremble, and shrink back, and beginnest to fear that thou hast acted too rashly in this matter. Now dost thou say to thyself--"Oh, that I could prevail upon this wretched person to allow me a month or two longer to make up my mind; for, after all, he is but an acquaintance of yesterday; and unwise am I, to give up father, mother, and sisters, for the sake of such a questionable stranger!" Ah, foolish virgin! It is too late; nothing can part us now; for G.o.d Himself hath ordained that we shall be one. So nothing remains, but to reconcile thyself to thy destiny.
Year by year, thou must come closer and closer to me; and a thousand ages hence, we shall be only in the honeymoon of our marriage. Poor little Dove!
Sweetest wife, I cannot write to thee. The time for that species of communion is past. Hereafter, I cannot write my feelings, but only external things, business, facts, details, matters which do not relate to the heart and soul, but merely to our earthly condition. I have long had such a feeling, whenever I took up my pen--and now more than ever.
Would that I knew when the priest is to thrust himself between us!
Dearest, the last day of the month, if I mistake not, is Thursday, of next week. Unless thou desirest my presence sooner, I shall return to Boston probably on Sunday evening. Then will the days lag heavily, till we can flee away and be at rest. And, I pray thee, let our flight be in the morning; for it would be strange and wearisome to live half a day of ordinary life at such an epoch. I should be like a body walking about the city without a soul--being therein the reverse of good old Dr. Harris, whose soul walks about without the body. And this reminds me, that he has not made himself visible of late. Foolish me, not to have accosted him; for perhaps he wished to give us some good advice on our entrance into connubial life--or possibly, he intended to disclose the hiding-place of some ancient h.o.a.rd of gold, which would have freed us forever from all pecuniary cares. I think we shall not need his counsel on the former point; but on the latter, it would have been peculiarly acceptable.
Ownest, would there be anything amiss in exchanging that copy of Southey"s Poems for some other book? We should still have Campbell"s English Poets as an immediate keepsake from Miss Burley; and whatever book we might procure would be none the less a gift from her. My copy of Southey went to the Manse with my furniture; else I should have brought it hither and given it to Elizabeth--who, however, does not especially admire Southey.
Now good bye, dearest love. I fear thou wilt make thyself sick with much care and toil. G.o.d bless thee! Our mother and sisters would send their love, if they knew that I am writing to thee. They love thee, and link us together in their thoughts. G.o.d bless them, and us, and everybody. Dost thou perceive how love widens my heart?
THINE OWNEST HUSBAND.
Miss Sophia A. Peabody, Care of Dr. N. Peabody, Boston, Ma.s.s.
TO MISS PEABODY
_Boston_, June 24th.--past 8 o"clock P.M. [1842]
_Mine ownest_,
I have just received thy letter, and rejoice unspeakably at the news which thou tellest me. Dearest, thou knowest not how I have yearned for thee during thy absence; and yet thou didst seem so well and happy there, that I sent thee a letter, yesterday morning, submitting it to thy wisdom whether thou hadst not better stay another week. But thou hast done more wisely to come; for my heart is faint with hunger for thee. I have been quite sad and dolorous at thy absence. And oh, what joy to think that henceforth there shall be no long separations for us. It has taken me so by surprise that I know not what to say upon the subject; but my heart throbs mightily.
Dearest, thou canst not have a long letter to-night, because thy husband is weary, and moreover he wants to think about thee, and embrace thee a thousand million times deep within himself. Art thou quite well? Most beloved, I beseech [thee] not to agitate thyself in this removal of the household G.o.ds. I shall come on Sat.u.r.day, but perhaps not till late. G.o.d bless and keep thee.
Thine ownest, lovingest husband,
DE L"AUBEPINE.
Miss Sophia A. Peabody, Care of Dr. N. Peabody, Salem, Ma.s.s.
TO MISS PEABODY
54 Pinckney St., June 27th.
--7 o"clock P.M. [1842]
_Most Dear_,