Volume I Part 15 (1/2)
Do thou be good, dearest love, and when I come, tomorrow night, let me find thee magnificent. Thou didst make me very happy, yesterday forenoon--thou wast a south-west wind--or the sweetest and wholesomest wind that blows, whichever it may be. I love thee more than I can estimate; and last night I dreamed of thee. I know not exactly what; but we were happy.
G.o.d bless thee.
Thine ownest husband,
THEODORE DE L'AUBEPINE.
A Madame, Madame Sophie Amelie de L'Aubepine, Rue d'Ouest, a Boston.
Miss Sophia A. Peabody, West-street, Boston.
TO MISS PEABODY
54 Pinckney St., March 12th,--Sunday [1841]
_My Life_,
I have come back to thee! Thy heart gives thee no warning of my presence; yet I am here--embracing thee with all the might of my soul.
Ah, forgetful Dove! How is it that thou hast had no spiritual intelligence of my advent? I am sure that if yearnings and strivings could have brought my spirit into communion with thine, thou wouldst have felt me within thy bosom.
Thou truest-Heart, thou art conscious of me, as much as a heavenly spirit can be, though the veil of mortality. Thou has not forgotten me for a moment. I have felt thee drawing me towards thee, when I was hundreds of miles away. The farther I went, the more was I conscious of both our loves. I cannot write how much I love thee, and what deepest trust I have in thee.
Dearest, expect me at six o'clock this afternoon. I have not the watch, as thou knowest, and so it may be a few moments before or after six. Oh, I need thee this very, very moment--my heart throbs, and so does my hand, as thou mayst see by this scribble. G.o.d bless thee! I am very well.
THINE OWNEST HUSBAND.
Miss Sophia A. Peabody, 13 West-street, Boston.
TO MISS PEABODY
_Salem_, March 18th, 1841
Dearest wife, here is thy poor husband, enduring his banishment as best he may. Methinks all enormous sinners should be sent on pilgrimage to Salem, and compelled to spend a length of time there, proportioned to the enormity of their offenses. Such a punishment would be suited to sinners that do not quite deserve hanging, yet are too aggravated for the States-Prison. Oh, thy naughty husband! If it be a punishment, he well deserves to suffer a life-long infliction of it, were it only for slandering his native town so vilely. Thou must scold him well. But, belovedest, any place is strange and irksome to me, where thou art not; and where thou art, any place will be home.
Here I have made a great blot, as thou seest; but, sweetest, there is, at this moment, a portrait of myself in the mirror of that inkspot. Is not that queer to think of? When it reaches thee, it will be nothing but a dull black spot; but now, when I bend over it, there I see myself, as at the bottom of a pool. Thou must not kiss the blot, for the sake of the image which it now reflects; though, if thou shouldst, it will be a talisman to call me back thither again.
Thy husband writes thee nonsense, as his custom is. I wonder how thou managest to retain any respect for him. Trust me, he is not worthy of thee--not worthy to kiss the sole of thy shoe. For the future, thou perfectest Dove, let thy greatest condescension towards him, be merely an extension of the tip of thy forefinger, or of thy delicate little foot in its stocking. Nor let him dare to touch it without kneeling--which he will be very ready to do, because he devoutly wors.h.i.+ps thee; which is the only thing that can be said in his favor.
But, think of his arrogance! At this very moment.--
March 19th. Forenoon.--Dearest soul, thou hast irrecoverably lost the conclusion of this sentence; for I was interrupted by a visitor, and have now forgotten what I meant to say. No matter; thou wilt not care for the loss; for, now I think of it, if does not please thee to hear thy husband spoken slightingly of. Well, then thou shouldst not have married such a vulnerable person. But, to thy comfort be it said, some people have a much more exalted opinion of him than I have. The Rev.