_Boston_, Jany. 24th, 1840--4 P.M.
_Ownest Dove_,
Your letter came this forenoon, announcing the advent of the pictures;
so I came home as soon as I possibly could--and there was the package!
I naturally trembled as I undid it, so eager was I to behold them.
Dearissima, there never was anything so lovely and precious in this
world. They are perfect. So soon as the dust and smoke of my fire had
evaporated, I put them on the mantelpiece, and sat a long time before
them with clasped hands, gazing, and gazing, and gazing, and painting
a fac-simile of them in my heart, in whose most sacred chamber they
shall keep a place forever and ever. Belovedest, I was not long in
finding out the Dove in the Menaggio. In fact, she was the very first
object that my eyes rested on, when I uncovered the picture. She flew
straightway into my heart--and yet she remains just where you placed
her. Dearest, if it had not been for your strict injunctions that
nobody nor anything should touch the pictures, I do believe that my
lips would have touched that naughty Sophie Hawthorne, as she stands
on the bridge. Do you think the perverse little damsel would have
vanished beneath my kiss? What a misfortune would that have been to
her poor lover!--to find that he kissed away his mistress. But, at
worst, she would have remained on my lips. However, I shall refrain
from all endearments, till you tell me that a kiss may be hazarded
without fear of her taking it in ill part and absenting herself
without leave.
Mine ownest, it is a very noble-looking cavalier with whom Sophie is
standing on the bridge. Are you quite sure that her own husband is the
companion of her walk? Yet I need not ask--for there is the Dove to
bear witness to his identity. That true and tender bird would never
have alighted on another hand--never have rested so near another
bosom. Yes; it must be my very self; and from henceforth it shall be
held for an absolute and indisputable truth. It is not my picture, but
the very I; and as my inner self belongs to you, there is no doubt
that you have caused my soul to pervade the figure. There we are,
unchangeable. Years cannot alter us, nor our relation to each other.
Ownest, we will talk about these pictures all our lives and longer; so
there is no need that I should say all that I think and feel about
them now; especially as I have yet only begun to understand and feel
them. I have put them into my bed-room for the present, being afraid
to trust them on the mantel-piece; but I cannot help going to feast my
eyes upon them, every little while. I have determined not to hang them
up till after I have been to Salem, for fear of the dust and of the
fingers of the chamber-maid and other visitants. Whenever I am away,
they will be safely locked up, either in the bureau or in my closet. I
shall want your express directions as to the height at which they
ought to be hung, and the width of the space between them, and other
minutest particulars. We will discuss these matters, when I come home
to my wife.
Belovedest, there are several obstacles to my coming home immediately.
At present, two of the Measurers are employed, and another is detained
at his home in Chelsea by the sickness of his family, and Colonel Hall
continues too unwell to be at the Custom-House; so that I am the only
one in attendance there; and moreover I have a coal vessel to
discharge to-morrow. But this state of affairs will not continue long.
I think I cannot fail to be at liberty by Tuesday or Wednesday at
furthest; and at all events, next week shall not pass without our
meeting; even if I should have barely time to press you in my arms,
and say goodbye. But the probability is, that I shall come to spend a
week.
Dearissima, be patient--Sophie Hawthorne as well as the Dove.
My carefullest little wife, I am of opinion that Elizabeth has been
misinformed as to the increased prevalence of the small-pox. It could
not be so generally diffused among the merchants and business-people
without my being aware of it; nor do I hear of its committing such
fearful ravages anywhere. The folks at the Custom-House know of no
such matter; nor does George Hillard. In truth, I had supposed (till I
heard otherwise from you) that all cause for alarm was past. Trust me,
dearest, there is no need of heart-quake on my account. You have been
in greater danger than your husband.
God be with you, blessedest and blessingest. I did ...
(Remainder of letter missing)
Miss Sophia A. Peabody,
Care of Dr. N. Peabody,
Salem, Mass.