To
Ann E. Taylor
1 June 1857 • New Orleans, La.
(Transcript and MS facsimile:
Kansas City Star Magazine, 21 Mar 1926, UCCL 00013)
[postscript in pencil:]
‸ [P. S.—I have just returned from another cemetery—brought away an orange leaf as a memorial—I inclose it.] ‸
New Orleans, June 1st. 1857.
My Dear Friend Annie
I am not certain what day of the month this is, (the weather [being ]so warm,) but I expect I have made a pretty close guess.
Well, you wouldn’t answer the last letter I wrote from Cincinnati? I just ‸thought‸ I would write again, anyhow, taking for an excuse the fact that you might have written and the letter miscarried. I have been very unfortunate with my correspondence; for, during my stay of nearly four months in Cincinnati,1 I did not get more than three or four letters [beside ]those coming from members of our own family. You did write once, though, Annie, and that rather “set me up,” for I imagined that as you had got started once more, you would continue to write with your ancient punctuality. From some cause or other, however, I was disappointed—though it could hardly have been any fault of mine, for I sat down and answered your letter as soon as I received it, I think, although I was sick at the time. Orion wrote to me at St. Louis, saying that Mane told him she would correspond with me if I would ask her. I lost no time in writing to her—got no reply—and thus ended another brief correspondence. I wish you would tell [Mane ]that the Lord won’t love her if she does so.
However, I reckon one page of this is sufficient.
I visited the French market yesterday (Sunday) morning. I think it would have done my very boots good to have met half a dozen Keokuk girls there, as I used to meet them at market in the Gate City. But it could not be. However, I did find several acquaintances—two pretty girls, with their two beaux—sipping coffee at one of the stalls. I thought I had seen all kinds of markets before—but that was a great mistake—this being a place such as I had never dreamed of before. Everything was arranged in such beautiful order, and had such an air of cleanliness and neatness that it was a pleasure to wander among the stalls. The pretty pyramids of fresh fruit looked so delicious. Oranges, lemons, pineapples, bananas, figs, plantains, watermelons, blackberries, raspberries, plums, and various other fruits were to be seen on one table, while the next one bore a load of radishes, onions, squashes, peas, beans, sweet potatoes—well, everything imaginable in the vegetable line—and still further on were lobsters, oysters, clams—then milk, cheese, cakes, coffee, tea, nuts, apples, hot rolls, butter, etc.—then the various kinds of meats and poultry. Of course, the place was crowded (as most places in New Orleans are) with men, women and children of every age, color and nation. Out on the pavement were groups of Italians, French, Dutch, Irish, Spaniards, Indians, Chinese, Americans, English, and the Lord knows how many more different kinds of people, selling all kinds of articles—even clothing of every description, from a handkerchief down to a pair of boots, umbrellas, pins, combs, matches—in fact, anything you could possibly want—and keeping up a terrible din with their various cries.
Today I visited one of the cemeteries—a veritable little city, for they bury everybody above ground here. All round the sides of the inclosure, which is in the heart of the city, there extends a large vault, about twelve feet high, containing three or four tiers of holes or tombs (they put the coffins into these holes endways, and then close up the opening with brick), one above another, and looking like a long 3- or 4-story house. The [graveyard ]is laid off in regular, straight streets, strewed with white shells, and the fine, tall marble tombs (numbers of them containing but one corpse) fronting them and looking like so many miniature dwelling houses. You can find wreaths of flowers and crosses, cups of water, mottoes, small statuettes, etc., hanging in front of nearly every tomb. I noticed one beautiful white marble tomb, with a white lace curtain in front of it, under which, on a little shelf, were vases of fresh flowers, several little statuettes, and cups of water, while on the ground under the shelf were little orange and magnolia trees. It looked so pretty. The inscription was in French—said the occupant was a girl of 17, and finished by a wish from the mother that the stranger would drop a tear there, and thus aid her whose sorrow was more than one could bear. They say that the flowers upon many of these tombs are replaced every day by fresh ones. These were fresh, and the poor girl had been dead five years. There’s depth of affection! On another was the inscription, “To My Dear Mother,” with fresh flowers. The lady was 62 years old when she died, and she had been dead seven years. I spent half an hour [watching the chameleons—strange ]animals, to [change their clothes so often! I ]found a dingy [looking one, drove him on a black ]rag, and he [turned black as ink—drove him ]under a fresh [leaf, and he turned the brightest ]green color you ever [saw.
I wish you would ]write to me at [St. Louis (I’ll be there next week) ]for I don’t [believe you have forgotten how, yet]. [ ‸Tell Mane and Ete2 “howdy” for me.‸
Your old ]friend
Sam. L. Clemens.
Explanatory Notes | Textual Commentary
Source text(s):
1 June 1857 to Ann E. Taylor. Facsimile of the first MS page, the same size as it appeared in the Kansas City Star Magazine. Clemens’s penciled postscript is just visible at the top of the page: “P. S.—I have just returned from another cemetery—brought away an orange leaf as a memorial—I inclose it.”
dead seven years. I spent half an hour
watching
the chameleons—strange animals, to
change
their clothes so often! I found a dingy looking
one, drove him on a black rag, and he turned
black
as ink—drove him under a fresh leaf,
and he
turned the brightest green color you ever saw.
I wish you would write to me at St.
Louis (I’ll be there next week) for I
don’t believe
you have forgotten how, yet.
Tell Mane and Ete
“howdy” for me.
Your old friend
Sam. L. Clemens.
1 June 1857 to Ann E. Taylor. Facsimile of the lower right corner of the last MS page, the same size as it was printed in the Kansas City Star Magazine. The entire passage is printed line for line below the facsimile. The box superimposed on the right side of the printed version encloses the text included in the facsimile. The beginnings of the MS lines, which do not appear in the facsimile, are outside the box on the left. The choice of ‘dead’ to begin the first line of the passage is conjectural. The line down the center of the printed version representing the straight left edge of the facsimile is distorted because the regularity of type does not reflect the variability of handwriting.
This second facsimile, which shows only the ends of the last eleven lines of the MS, is reproduced here together with a version of the entire passage printed line for line as in the MS and marked to show the portions that are in the facsimile and those that are not. The MS probably consisted of a single folder inscribed on all four pages. Not counting the postscript, the text on the first MS page fills 35 lines of type in the Star Magazine printing, while the rest of the letter fills 119 lines, or about three times as much, making four MS pages in all. The facsimile of the corner of the last page shows that Clemens’s inscription completely filled that page. In the facsimile of the first MS page, two leaves can be discerned, the edge of the second peeping out from behind the first. These must have been the two leaves of a folder, for had they been separate, the photographer would not have pinned the second leaf to the backing board behind the first when photographing the first page. In the same facsimile the laid paper can be seen to have separated along the fold as though it were relatively stiff, and both facsimiles suggest an opaque paper with little show-through. Therefore, although Clemens sometimes wrote only on the first and fourth pages of a folder when his paper was very thin, in this case he probably wrote on all four pages of one folder. The body of the letter was written in ink; the postscript was written at the top of the first page in pencil. In the facsimile its presence can be detected, but it is too faint to read (see entry below for 71.2–3).Previous publication:
L1, 71–76; in addition to the copy-text,
“Personal Glimpses: Sam Clemens in
‘Sideburns’ to ‘Dear Friend
Annie,’” Literary Digest 89 (8
May 1926): 38, 44; Lorch 1929, 429–31; Brashear, 176–79.
Provenance:see McKinney Family Papers, pp. 459–61, and note on provenance,
21 and 25 May
56 to Ann E. Taylor.
Emendations and textual notes:
P.S. . . . it. •
[Written in
pencil at the top of the first MS page. In the facsimile,
traces of the inscription can be made out. If one already
knows from the printed text just what must be there, the
shadowy words ‘
metery—brought
away a orange’ can just be
discerned at the end of the line above the dateline and,
more faintly, what is probably the ghost of ‘I inclose’ to
the left of the dateline, although ‘inclose’ is not clear
enough to enable one to verify its spelling. If, however,
the transcript were not available as a gloss of the
inscription, no part of the postscript could with confidence
be read in the facsimile; consequently the transcript is
copy-text for this passage.]
[Transcript is copy-text for ‘P.S. . . . it.’]
[MS facsimile is copy-text for ‘New . . . reply’]
being •
[]eing [blotted; the transcript reads ‘being’]
beside • [sic]
[Transcript is copy-text for ‘—and . . . spent’]
Mane • Marie [The Star Magazine’s misspelling, not surprising in view of the oddity of the nickname ‘Mane’ and its resemblance in Clemens’s hand to ‘Marie’, has been corrected on the basis of two instances of Clemens’s spelling (at 72.11 and 73.30) that appear in the MS facsimiles (see illustrations), and the confirmation of the name and its spelling from family tradition provided by Gladys Hill.]
graveyard • grave-|yard
[ MS facsimile is copy-text for ‘half . . . Clemens.’]
watching . . . strange (Transcript) • watching | [not in] ange
change . . . I (Transcript) • change | [not in] I
looking . . . black (Transcript) • looking | [not in] lack
turned . . . him (Transcript) • turned | [not in] [i]m
leaf, . . . brightest (Transcript) •
leaf, |
[not in]
[t]st
saw. [¶] I . . . would • saw. | [not in] [u]ld [The transcript reads ‘saw.[no ¶]I . . . would’. As transcribed, the MS line ‘I wish you would write to me at St.’ (73.29) contains markedly less text than the other lines partially visible in the MS facsimile, although it ends as close to the right edge of the leaf as they do. Differences in word spacing in the several lines are not great enough to account for the differences in line length. The beginning of the line (which is outside the area of the MS facsimile) must have contained something that does not appear in the transcript—possibly a word inadvertently omitted during transcription, a MS cancellation, or a word illegible to the transcriber. It is at least equally probable, however, and a simpler conjecture, that the line was indented as a paragraph, although the Star Magazine does not so indent it. We have emended to reflect the probable MS paragraph indentation].
St. . . . next week) (Transcript) • St. | [not in] week) [The transcript includes a comma after ‘week)’.]
believe . . . how, yet (Transcript) • believe | [not in] [w], yet
‸Tell . . . Ete “howdy” for me.‸ Your old (Transcript) • ‸Tell . . . Ete‸ | [not in] old [The partial MS facsimile shows that ‘Tell . . . Ete’ was inserted in the available space above the signature; the remainder of the sentence, outside the area of the facsimile, must have been inserted as well and has been so marked.] (MS facsimile)
