August 27 Friday — In Redding, Conn. Sam wrote to Margery H. Clinton in Tuxedo Park, N.Y.
Some day, dear Plumber, I shall be well enough again to see company; & then you & that exceedingly pleasant friend of yours must grant Stormfield another visit. I made a greatly-dreaded journey early in June (an old engagement & I was ashamed to cancel it) & it broke me down—just as I had expected. Not a large journey—only to Baltimore & back—but I was not in traveling-shape & it was a risk. I’ve been a prisoner here ever since. In the house. I don’t go outside. I spend 4 hours downstairs daily— from 4.30 p.m. till 8.30; I spend the rest of the 24 in my room,
Still, I have rather good times—better than a body might think; for I can read as much as I want to, & smoke all the time. I stopped smoking, about a fortnight, because the doctor said smoking would kill me. But I thought it over & resumed, I don’t care for death, & I do care for smoking.
You wrote me a kind note when I lost Mr. Rogers, & I never thanked you for it, because my mind was crammed full of the detestable Ashcrofts in those days, & the rage engendered drove out all other matters: but I thank you now.
Do you imagine I look like a sick person? I certainly don’t. And I am not sick. I am as well as I ever was in my life; but the slightest physical exertion gives me a pain in the breast that is not endurable, sitting, standing, or lying down. So I go softly, warily, & don’t provoke it.
I suppose you are out of town somewhere, as yet. Well, wherever you are, have a good time! / Affectionately / ... [MTP].
Sam also wrote to Frances Nunnally.
Yes, I got the letter, dear heart, but I have been pestered so much with the pain in my breast that I haven’t had — energy enough to write or to make any other exertion. This condition of things makes a dull life for me, for I can’t have company. Because I am of no use to a guest; I can’t walk, I can’t drive, & I am down stairs only 4 hours in the 24—from 4.30 p.m. to 8:30. All this is because the least exertion, the least fatigue, brings the pain. [in lefthand margin:] Keep on writing my, honey; I'll answer.
So you see I stick to my room & read I do a plenty of reading, & of course there is a heap of entertainment in that,
Well, what a time you are having! You haven’t been off your feet long enough to take a nap since the 10th of June. If I were as pretty a girl as you area, & as sweet, I should be flying around just like that, & being worshipped. wish I was a pretty girl. However it is no use to try; we all have our limitations.
Keep it up, dear! it’s what youth is for. / With love / ... [MTP].
Sam also wrote to Elizabeth Wallace.
Dear Betsy —— / That rotten-hearted pair of professional thieves, liars & forgers have cleared out from this region, & are not likely to return. It is a great satisfaction, & a salute to my limitless hatred; & I have another: I am the reason they got married! It does me good to think of it. I said “You two are insane to think of marrying; don’t do it; you will separate within two years.” But they had to marry, & they knew it. There was no other way to save themselves. Each knew the other’s crimes; each knew the other was treacherous by nature & would turn State’s evidence at the first hint of danger; they had to marry, & shut each other’s mouths—there was no choice. He told me frankly & without a blush that he didn’t love her, he only wanted to be in a position to take care of her in her persistent exhausting illnesses. He knew she got her illness out of a whisky bottle & was drunk a good half of her time, but I didn’t know it. All the servants & some of the guests knew it, but I never suspected it. Her health is not bad, it is good. She always came out of a 3-day drunk sound & strong. When she used to lose her temper & carry on like a maniac, I took it for hysterics. [possibly inserted: Jessus! |
They are tied together & they can’t get loose! [t is a constant pleasure to me to reflect that I am the cause of it. “Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.” I used to wonder at His taste. But that was because I was ignorant. Alas, there’s a limit to our pleasures; we have to stop short of satisfying our whole appetite. It would shame me (see “gospel’’) to put her in jail; it is the only reason I haven’t done it long ago.
Oh, think of the irony of it—chiefly it was the evidence of this thief that sent our two burglars to the penitentiary twelve months ago! Poor devils, they got nothing—not a penny’s worth—& now they are prisoners for terms of 4 & 9 years. She was robbing me every day, & supporting her pal on the money; & because it would shame me to jail a woman, shes outside the bars.
There—it’s the first time I’ve treated the subject with a pen. I have enjoyed it, for I am full of malice, saturated with malignity, I feel nearer to the Lord than I ever was before. I feel as He feels of a Saturday night when the weekly report is in & He has had a satisfactory clean-up of the human race.
I can’t walk, I can’t drive, I’m not downstairs much, & I don’t see company; but I drink barrels of boiling water to keep the pain quiet; I read, & read, & read, & smoke, & smoke, & smoke all the time (as formerly,) & it’s a contented & comfortable life. / Affectionately, / ... [MTP].
Charles M. Kozlay, Publisher, Brooklyn wrote that he would like to see Clemens when next in town to discuss “some literary work he was doing in connection with an American author” [MTP].