Thursday Night.
January 23, 1846.
Yes, I understand your ‘Luria’ — and there is to be more light; and I open the window to the east and wait for it — a little less gladly than for you on Saturday, dearest. In the meanwhile you have ‘lucid moments,’ and ‘strengthen’ yourself into the wisdom of learning to love me — and, upon consideration, it does not seem to be so hard after all . . . there is ‘less for the future to take away’ than you had supposed — so that is the way? Ah, ‘these lucid moments, in which all things are thoroughly perceived‘; — what harm they do me! — And I am to ‘understand for you,’ you say! — Am I?
On the other side, and to make the good omen complete, I remembered, after I had sealed my last letter, having made a confusion between the ivory and horn gates, the gates of false and true visions, as I am apt to do — and my penholder belongs to the ivory gate, . . . as you will perceive in your lucid moments — poor holder! But, as you forget me on Wednesdays, the post testifying, . . . the sinecure may not be quite so certain as the Thursday’s letter says. And I too, in the meanwhile, grow wiser, . . . having learnt something which you cannot do, — you of the ‘Bells and Pomegranates’: You cannot make a pen. Yesterday I looked round the world in vain for it.
Mr. Kenyon does not come — will not perhaps until Saturday! Which reminds me — Mr. Kenyon told me about a year ago that he had been painfully employed that morning in parting two — dearer than friends — and he had done it he said, by proving to either, that he or she was likely to mar the prospects of the other. ‘If I had spoken to each, of himself or herself,’ he said, ‘I never could have done it.’
Was not that an ingenious cruelty? The remembrance rose up in me like a ghost, and made me ask you once to promise what you promised . . . (you recollect?) because I could not bear to be stabbed with my own dagger by the hand of a third person . . . so! When people have lucid moments themselves, you know, it is different.
And shall I indeed have a letter to-morrow? Or, not having the penholder yet, will you . . ..
Goodnight. May God bless you —
Ever and wholly your
Ba.