June 2 Sunday – Sam wrote from the Schloss Hotel, Heidelberg to Moncure Conway. Sam had misgivings about giving his 17-year-old nephew, Samuel Moffett, a letter of introduction to the Conways, which he had done while visiting Fredonia. Sam asked them not to let the Moffett boy inconvenience them and suggested they simply give him a card of admission to the British Museum. Sam had seen some things in his nephew, no doubt, which caused him to feel the young man needed to “paddle his own canoe” while traveling abroad [MTLE 3: 56].

Sam also wrote to David Gray, describing again their hotel view and balconies. Sam had hired a den at the “not exhorbitant sum of $5 a month, on the opposite side of the Neckar, in an upper story of a dwelling-house.” He needed to write away from the demands and clatter of family. He intended to learn German but saw now that it would interrupt his writing too much. Sam walked daily at 4 PM through the town and castle grounds. He told Gray of writing a book about Germany, “in the sort of narrative form which I used in Innocents, Roughing It & Bermuda stuff.” The book would be A Tramp Abroad. Sam also injected a jab at Bret Harte, after reading an article in a German paper that Harte would have a consulate with $3,000 a year. “I suppose the government’s idea is to get up a contrast with Bayard Taylor, who is a gentleman” [MTLE 3: 57-8]. Harte became the commercial agent of the U.S. at Crefeld, near Düsseldorf, Germany [Duckett 163].

Sam also wrote to Susan Crane about the family; Livy added a few lines:

Dear Susie—Livy is not pretty well this afternoon, so I thought I would write you in her place—represent her, in a lame & inefficient manner. We have a governess, now; a very capable, diligent & pleasing girl of about 21. She is German, but has taught in a school in England for a year & a half. She comes every day from 9 till 12—wages $15 a month. She interests the children in all sorts of work & play, & they have fallen in love with her. She speaks nothing but German to them. She also requires German answers—which she dictates & which they forget as soon as uttered. Susie is honestly trying to learn, & uses a number of German words, but Bay detests the language, & will have but little to [do] with it. I thrashed the Bay today, for tramping on the grass in a gentleman’s grounds. But I only had my trouble for my pains; she was thinking about something else & did not know when I was through.

Livy feels mighty conscience-stricken for having bundled poor Catherine Beecher out of her house so unceremoniously—but doubtless she has plenty of company in that feeling, now.

Clara Spaulding is working herself to death with her German—never loses an instant while she is awake—or asleep, either, for that matter—dreams of enormous serpents, who poke their heads up under her arms, & glare upon her with red-hot eyes & inquire about the Genitive Case & the declensions of the Definite Article. Livy is bully-ragging herself about as hard; pesters over her grammar & her Reader & her Dictionary all day—then in the evening these two students stretch themselves out on sofas & sigh & say, “O there’s no use—we never can learn it in the world!” Then Livy takes a sentence to go to bed on: goes gaping and stretching to her pillow, murmuring, “Ich bin Ihnen sehr Verbunden—Ich bin Ihnen sehr Verbunden—Ich bin Ihnen sehr Verbunden— I wonder if I can get that packed away so it will stay till morning”—& about an hour after midnight she wakes me up & says, “I do so hate to disturb you, but is it Ich Ben Johnson sehr befinden?”

As for me, I’ve shook the language & gone to work. I cannot afford to throw away time, now that I am old, over such an outrageous & impossible grammar. I said I would study two weeks, & I did. If I had said I would study four, I might have broken my word. I scorn that grammar; & it gratifies me to know that the few sentences I am obliged to utter daily, in the course of trade, always break all the laws of the German grammar at a sweep. To be able to read easily & translate shall be sufficient for me.

There are three great handsome dogs here, & a litter of puppies. The mother-dog is very cross, but the father-dog isn’t. I said there was nothing strange about this difference of disposition, as the dogs were not kin to each other. But Bay spoke up and said, “O yes they are, papa—the Mother-dog is the father-dog’s brother.”

Lately Livy has whipped Bay with the heavy stem of one of my pipes. The other day she had occasion to discipline Susie—had her weapon ready. Poor Susie observed it, & said with simple pathos that she wished we had brought the paper cutter from home, “because she was better acquainted with it.”

Good bye, Susie dear—we all send a world of love to you, & our dear old Mother—& each & all of you.

Lovingly

    Saml.

Sue dear I feel all the time apprehensive about you and Mother I do hope you will keep well until we return.

I pine to send you some of the wild flowers there are such quantities & such varieties. I will send in this one piece of grass & one wild flower—they are both so lovely—

I love you all—

    Your Livy

[MTP]. Note: “Bay” was Clara’s nickname.

In his notebook, Sam wrote an entry about the Emperor being fired upon by a socialist. He added:

“60,000 communists drilling in Cin. Chic. & St. Louis” [MTNJ 2: 94].

In Boston, Howells wrote to Sam (see June 27 entry).