Elmira Dec 1st 1868

My dear Mrs Fairbanks

I feel drawn to write you today. I WOULD that I could see you for an hour!——In one of your ‘Holy Land’ letters which I cannot conveniently refer to now, you speak of holding your pen, (amid the multitude of things that were eager to be spoken, and perhaps the much greater number, that your own mind, desired should remain unspoken); in indecision about what to write, or where & how to begin. I do not quote your words of course.

But I by no means occupy your situation, as I have but one subject of which to speak.— —— —

By this time you have begun to anticipate of whom I am about to write; and I the more readily ask you to become our confidante, our counselor, as Mr Clemens has told Livia, that you were already his.— — — —

I earnestly desire, (and here my perplexity in writing begins, & the feeling that I could so much better talk with you,) that every word of this communication should be such that the subject of it, could now, or at any future day, read it not only without pain, but with the consciousness that it was prompted by feelings of the highest generosity & kindness toward him.

I cannot, & need not, detail to you the utter surprise & almost astonishment with which Mr Langdon & myself listened to Mr Clemens declaration to us, of his love for our precious child, and how at first our parental hearts said no.—to the bare thought of such a stranger, mining in our hearts for the possession of one of the few jewels we have. All this I must pass by, for today I have to deal with that, with which the judgment only has to do.—

You, my dear friend have known Mr Clemens, more or less intimately since your and his embarkation on the ‘Quaker City’—you knew him first, as a somewhat celebrated personage next you knew him as a fellow-traveller, and as your acquaintance with him increased into the time of weeks & months, you began to look upon him from your higher standpoint of maturer experience & closer estimate & appreciation of men, (out of your Christian heart, that was so earnestly desirous to do good to all around you, God bless & reward you for it) without criticism, but with those counsels, and it may be rebukes that hasten to do men good. And now you have known him in your family, at the fireside day by day, almost as if he were your own son.— — —

Now what I am about to write, must be plainly & frankly spoken. I do not ask as to his standing among men, nor do I need to be assured that he is a man of genius that he possesses a high order of intellectual endowments, nor do I scarcely crave your opinion of his affectional nature, but what I desire is your opinion of him as a man; what the kind of man he has been, and what the man he now is, or is to become.

I have learned from Charlie & I think the same idea has pervaded your conversation, or writing or both,—that a great change had taken place in Mr Clemens, that he seemed to have entered upon a new manner of life, with higher & better purposes actuating his conduct.——

The question, the answer to which, would settle a most weaning anxiety, is,—from what standard of conduct,—from what habitual life, did this change, or improvement, or reformation; commence?

Does this change, so desirably commenced make of an immoral man a moral one, as the world looks at men?—or—does this change make of one, who has been entirely a man of the world, different in this regard, that he resolutely aims to enter upon a new, because a Christian life?——

— — — — — — — —

I think my dear friend that to you my meaning will not be obscure, & that your maternal heart will make every allowance for me I never feel so much the change that has taken place in my physical strength, as when I try to use my brain for any purpose whatever, so soon does my head become weary, & my thoughts indistinct & confused.

Mr Langdon is slowly gathering up his strength but much more slowly than we hoped & expected, but I am confidently hoping that he will now in a short time be comfortably well. Mr & Mrs Crane leave for Florida tomorrow evening, we feel much more encouraged to hope that Sue will be benefitted by the travel & the sojourn in the South than we did a month ago.——

Livia & Charlie (as well as my neice whom we have come to love very much) are well Charlie has now installed himself quite thoroughly in his ‘Hardware business’ & seems quite happy.—I cannot express to you how much I prise your letters to him, nor what a wealth I feel that they are to him.——

We do feel very anxious to see you & Mr Fairbanks here & to have a good long visit from you both, then will it not be delightful to rehearse everything that interests us all. Will you remember us very kindly to Mr & Mrs Severance & please tell them that at the next reunion appointed we confidently expect they will be present.

Our warmest love to all your dear family

Very faithfully yours

Olivia Langdon

An early answer to this letter will increase our already great obligations to you.

O.L.

After that fall she was not able to leave her bed during two years, nor was she able to lie in any position except upon her back. All the great physicians were brought to Elmira, one after another, during that time, but there was no helpful result. In those days both worlds were well acquainted with the name of Dr. Newton, a man who was regarded in both worlds as a quack....

One day Andrew Langdon, a relative of the Langdon family[,] came to the house and said: “You have tried everybody else, now try Dr. Newton, the quack....”

Newton came. He found the young girl upon her back. Over her was suspended a tackle from the ceiling. It had been there a long time, but unused. It was put there in the hope that by its steady motion she might be lifted to a sitting posture, at intervals, for rest. But it proved a failure. Any attempt to raise her brought nausea and exhaustion, and had to be relinquished. Newton made some passes about her head with his hands; then he put an arm behind her shoulders and said “Now we will sit up, my child.”

The family were alarmed, and tried to stop him, but he was not disturbed, and raised her up. She sat several minutes, without nausea or discomfort. Then Newton said that that would do for the present, he would come again next morning; which he did. He made some passes with his hands and said, “Now we will walk a few steps, my child.” He took her out of bed and supported her while she walked several steps; then he said “I have reached the limit of my art. She is not cured. It is not likely that she will ever be cured. She will never be able to walk far, but after a little daily practice she will be able to walk one or two hundred yards, and she can depend on being able to do that for the rest of her life.” (AD, 13 Feb 1906, in MTA, 2:103–5)