Salem, Jany. 20th, 1842—11 o'clock A.M.
Truest Heart,
Here is thy husband in his old chamber1, where he produced those stupendous works of fiction, which have since impressed the Universe with wonderment and awe2! To this chamber, doubtless, in all succeeding ages, pilgrims will come to pay their tribute of reverence;—they will put off their shoes at the threshold, for fear of desecrating4 the tattered5 old carpet. "There," they will exclaim, "is the very bed in which he slumbered6, and where he was visited by those ethereal visions, which he afterward7 fixed8 forever in glowing words! There is the wash-stand, at which this exalted9 personage cleansed10 himself from the stains of earth, and rendered his outward man a fitting exponent11 of the pure soul within. There, in its mahogany frame, is the dressing-glass, which reflected that noble brow, those hyacinthine locks, that mouth, bright with smiles, or tremulous with 74 feeling, that flashing or melting eye, that—in short, every item of the magnanimous phiz of this unexampled man! There is the pine table—there the old flag-bottomed chair—in which he sat, and at which he scribbled12, during his agonies of inspiration! There is the old chest of drawers, in which he kept what shirts a poor author may be supposed to have possessed13! There is the closet, in which was reposited his threadbare suit of black! There is the worn-out shoe-brush with which this polished writer polished his boots. There is—" but I believe this will be pretty much all;—so here I close the catalogue.
Most dear, I love thee beyond all limits, and write to thee because I cannot help it;—nevertheless, writing grows more and more an inadequate14 and unsatisfactory mode of revealing myself to thee. I no longer think of saying anything deep, because I feel that the deepest and truest must remain unsaid. We have left expression—at least, such expression as can be achieved with pen and ink—far behind us. Even the spoken word has long been inadequate. Looks are a better language; but, bye-and-bye, our spirits will demand some more adequate expression even than these. And thus it will go on; until we shall be divested15 of these earthly forms, which are at once our medium 75 of expression, and the impediments to full communion. Then we shall melt into [one] another, and all be expressed, once and continually, without a word—without an effort.
Belovedest, my cold is very comfortable now. Mrs. Hillard gave me some homo—I don't know how to spell it—homeopathic medicine, of which I took a dose last night; and shall not need another. Art thou likewise well? Didst thou weary thy poor little self to death, yesterday? I do not think that I could possibly undergo the fatigue16 and distraction17 of mind which thou dost. Thou art ten times as powerful as I, because thou art so much more ethereal.
Sweetest, thy husband has recently been both lectured about and preached about, here in his native city. The preacher was Rev3. Mr. Fox of Newburyport; but how he contrived18 to hook me into a sermon, I know not. I trust he took for his text that which was spoken of my namesake of old—"Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom there is no guile19." Belovedest, if ever thou shouldst happen to hear me lauded20 on any public occasion, I shall expect thee to rise, and make thine own and my acknowledgments, in a neat and appropriate speech. Wilt21 thou not? Surely thou wilt—inasmuch as I care little for applause, save as it 76 shall please thee; so it is rather thy concern than mine.
Mine ownest, it is by no means comfortable to be separated from thee three whole days at a time. It is too great a gap in life. There is no sunshine in the days in which thou dost not shine on me. And speaking of sunshine, what a beautifullest day (to the outward eye, I mean) was yesterday; and to-day seems equally bright and gladsome, although I have not yet tasted the fresh air. I trust that thou has flown abroad, and soared upward to the seventh heaven. But do not stay there, sweetest Dove! Come back for me; for I shall never get there, unless by the aid of thy wings.
Now God bless thee, and make thee happy and joyful22, until Saturday evening, when thou must needs bear the infliction23 of
Thine Ownest Husband.
Miss Sophia A. Peabody,
Care of Dr. N. Peabody,
Boston, Mass.
点击收听单词发音
1 chamber | |
n.房间,寝室;会议厅;议院;会所 | |
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2 awe | |
n.敬畏,惊惧;vt.使敬畏,使惊惧 | |
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3 rev | |
v.发动机旋转,加快速度 | |
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4 desecrating | |
毁坏或亵渎( desecrate的现在分词 ) | |
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5 tattered | |
adj.破旧的,衣衫破的 | |
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6 slumbered | |
微睡,睡眠(slumber的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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7 afterward | |
adv.后来;以后 | |
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8 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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9 exalted | |
adj.(地位等)高的,崇高的;尊贵的,高尚的 | |
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10 cleansed | |
弄干净,清洗( cleanse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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11 exponent | |
n.倡导者,拥护者;代表人物;指数,幂 | |
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12 scribbled | |
v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 );乱画;草草地写;匆匆记下 | |
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13 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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14 inadequate | |
adj.(for,to)不充足的,不适当的 | |
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15 divested | |
v.剥夺( divest的过去式和过去分词 );脱去(衣服);2。从…取去…;1。(给某人)脱衣服 | |
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16 fatigue | |
n.疲劳,劳累 | |
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17 distraction | |
n.精神涣散,精神不集中,消遣,娱乐 | |
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18 contrived | |
adj.不自然的,做作的;虚构的 | |
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19 guile | |
n.诈术 | |
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20 lauded | |
v.称赞,赞美( laud的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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21 wilt | |
v.(使)植物凋谢或枯萎;(指人)疲倦,衰弱 | |
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22 joyful | |
adj.欢乐的,令人欢欣的 | |
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23 infliction | |
n.(强加于人身的)痛苦,刑罚 | |
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