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Dear Mother—
We are summoned here by telegram, & you may expect imagine why. It does appear that Mr Langdon’s five-month [sieze ] of illness [ mul must ] presently culminate in death. All of us are in deep grief, this morning, for death seems nearer at hand than at any time before. Mr. L. made his will this morning—that is, appointed executors. It is the saddest, saddest time. There is no sound in the house—“the mourners go about” like spirits.2 Blinds are down & the gloom in the hearts of the household finds its type in the sombreness of hall & chamber. Charley was telegraphed for, day before yesterday. His answer came from Bavaria in less than 8 hours. He is now in London, but telegraphs [to-day ] for further news, & says he cannot sail till 28th.
The You understand what trouble we are in, & how the sunshine is gone out. The town mourns is distressed—the solicitude is general.
Lovingly Your Son
Samuel.
Explanatory Notes | Textual Commentary
partners in the business, by gift. But they
were unknown. The business world knew J. Langdon, a name
that was a power, but these three young men were ciphers
without a unit. Slee turned out afterward to be a very able
man, and a most capable and persuasive negotiator, but at
the time that I speak of his qualities were quite unknown.
Mr. Langdon had trained him, and he was well equipped for
his headship of the little firm. Theodore Crane was
competent in his line—that of head clerk and
Superintendent of the subordinate clerks. No better man
could have been found for that place; but his capacities
were limited to that position. He was good and upright and
indestructibly honest and honorable, but he had neither
desire nor ambition to be anything above chief clerk. He was
much too timid for larger work or larger responsibilities.
Young Charley was twenty-one, and not any older than his
age—that is to say, he was a boy. His mother had
indulged him from the cradle up, and had stood between him
and such discomforts as duties, studies, work,
responsibility, and so on. He had gone to school only when
he wanted to, as a rule, and he didn’t want to
often enough for his desire to be mistaken for a passion. He
was not obliged to study at home when he had the headache,
and he usually had the headache—the thing that
was to be expected. He was allowed to play when his health
and his predilections required it, and they required it with
a good deal of frequency, because he
was the judge in the matter. He was not required to read
books, and he never read them. The results of this kind of
bringing up can be imagined. But he was not to blame for
them. His mother was his worst enemy, and she became this
merely through her love for him, which was an intense and
steadily burning passion. It was a most pathetic case. He
had an unusually bright mind; a fertile mind; a mind that
should have been fruitful. But because of his
mother’s calamitous indulgence, it got no
cultivation and was a desert. Outside of business, it is a
desert yet. Charley’s deadly training had made him conceited,
arrogant, and overbearing. Slee and Theodore had a heavier
burden to carry than had been the case with Mr. Langdon. Mr.
Langdon had had nothing to do but manage the business,
whereas Slee and Crane had to manage the business and
Charley besides. Charley was the most difficult part of the
enterprise. He was a good deal given to reorganizing and
upsetting Mr. Slee’s most promising arrangements
and negotiations. Then the work had to be all done over
again. (AD, 23 Feb 1906, CU-MARK,
partly published in MTA,
2:135–36)
Source text(s):
Previous publication:
L4, 157–158; MTMF, 133–34.
Provenance:see Huntington Library in Description of Provenance.
Emendations and textual notes:
sieze • [sic]
mul must • mulst
to-day • to-|day