Monday, Midnight.1
My Honored “Sister”—
The impulse is strong upon me to say to you how grateful I am to you and to all of you, for the patience, the consideration & the unfailing kindness which has been shown me ever since I came within the shadow of this roof, and which has made the past fortnight the sole period of my life unmarred by a regret. Unmarred by a regret. I say it deliberately. For I do not regret that I [ love you have loved ]you, still love & shall always love you. I accept the situation, uncomplainingly, hard as it is. Of old I am acquainted with grief,2 disaster & disappointment, & have borne these troubles as became a man. So, also, I shall bear this last & bitterest, even though it break my heart. I would not dishonor this worthiest love that has yet been born within me by any puerile thought, or word, or deed. It is better to have loved & lost you than that my life should have remained forever the blank it was before. For once, ‸at least,‸ in the idle years that have drifted over me, I have seen the world all beautiful, & known what [ is it ]was to hope. For once I have known what it was to feel my sluggish pulses stir with a living ambition. The world that was so beautiful, is dark again; the hope that shone as the sun, is gone; the brave ambition is dead. Yet I say again, it is better for me that I have loved & do love you; that with more than Eastern devotion I worship you; that I lay down all of my life that is worth the living, upon this hopeless altar where no fires of love shall descend to consume it. If you could but—
But no more of this. I have said it only from that impulse which drives men to speak of great calamities which have befallen them, & so seek relief. I could not say it to give you pain. The words are spoken, & they have fallen upon forgiving ears. For your dear sake my tongue & my pen are now forbidden to repeat them ever again.
And so, henceforward, I claim only that you will let me freight my speeches to you with only ‸simply‸ the sacred love a brother bears to a sister. I ask that you will write to me sometimes, as to a friend ‸whom‸ you feel will do all that a man may to be worthy of your friendship—or as to a brother whom you know will hold his sister’s honor as dearly as his own, her wishes as his law, her pure judgements above his blinded worldly wisdom. Being adrift, now, & rudderless, my voyage promises ill; but while the friendly beacon of your sisterly love beams ‸though‸ never so faintly through the fogs & the mists, I cannot be hopelessly wrecked. I shall not shame your confidence by speaking ‸to you in the future letters‸ of this dead love whose requiem I have been chanting. No, I will not offend. I will not misunderstand you.
My honored sister, you are so good & so beautiful—& I am so proud of you! Give me a little room in that great heart of yours—only the little you have promised me—& if I fail to deserve it may I remain forever the homeless vagabond I am! If you & mother Fairbanks will only scold me & upbraid me now & then, I shall fight my way through the world, never fear. Write me something from time to time—texts from the New Testament, if nothing else occurs to you—or dissertations on the sin of smoking—or extracts from your Book of Sermons3—anything, whatever—the reflection that my matchless sister wrote it will be sufficient. If it be a suggestion, I will entertain it; if it be an injunction, I will honor it; if it be a command I will obey it [or, break my royal neck ‸exhaust ]my energies‸ trying.
And now, good-bye, my precious sister—& may all the sorrows which fate has adorne ordained for you fall upon this foolish head of mine, which would be so glad & so proud to suffer them in your stead. I leave you to the ministering angels—for, daughter of earth as you are, they throng the air about you—they are with you, & such as you, always.
[ B ]Sincerely & affectionately,
Sam L. Clemens. 4
Miss Olivia Langdon, | Present. [docketed by OLL: Sept. 1868— | 1st] 5
Explanatory Notes | Textual Commentary
I really felt that I had one advantage over my
cousin, but only one. She was rich, beautiful and intellectual, but
she could not see through a joke, or see anything to laugh at in the
wittiest sayings unless explained in detail—I could. The
day came for his arrival—Whatever opinion we had formed
of his appearance, at least we were not overawed by his presence, or
greeting. He said—“How do you do,”
just as any one would, except with that lazy drawl which has added
much flavor to his wit and humor.... Our acquaintance progressed to
our mutual enjoyment. We rode, walked, talked & sang
together, for Mr. C. had a very sweet tenor voice. But
alas—I soon discovered that my quickness at seeing the
point of a joke and the witty sayings that I had considered almost
irresistible were simply nothing in comparison to my
cousin’s gifts. Mr. C evidently greatly preferred her
sense to my nonsense. I told him later that I should never
understand why he did. I think I discovered the fact almost as soon
as he did, himself, and I thought it would be a most suitable match
for both, and anything I could do to help them along should be done.
I had been intending to go to N.Y. for a visit, but had postponed it
on account of Mr. C’s coming. I now decided to go,
thinking the courtship might progress better if I were out of the
way. Olivia was very unsuspicious, therefore, before leaving I gave
her a hint of what I thought Mr. C. had in his mind &
heart and said that on my return I should ask a question, in regard
to a question I was quite sure would be asked her, and I wanted a
favorable answer to both. My visit was prolonged until a month had passed,
when a preemtory message came for my immediate return, which was
obeyed. What was my disappointment to learn that the question had
been asked, and a refusal given. (Paff, 2–4)
Source text(s):Previous publication:
L2, 247–249; LLMT, 18–20.
Provenance:see Samossoud Collection, pp. 515–16.
Emendations and textual notes:
love you have loved • [‘have loved’ over wiped-out ‘love you’]
is it • it s
or, break . . . ‸exhaust • [comma deleted by caret for the insertion]
B • [partly formed]
