No letters written between 26 May and 11 June 1872 have been found. On Sunday, 26 May, as Susan Crane noted in her journal, ten-week-old Susy was baptized. Two days later Clemens, Olivia, eighteen-month-old Langdon, and Susy—accompanied by Theodore Crane and by at least one nursemaid—started back to Hartford, by way of New York City. They probably left Elmira on the noon train, scheduled to arrive in Jersey City at 9:15 that evening. There they boarded the steam ferry for the one-mile crossing to New York City. After one night at the St. Nicholas Hotel, the Clemens household continued on to Hartford by train, arriving on Wednesday evening, 29 May (22 May 72 to OC and MECclick to open link; Susan L. Crane to Albert Bigelow Paine, 25 May 1911, ODaU; “Erie Railway,” Elmira Advertiser, 28 May 72, 2; Disturnell, 175–76, 268, 269; “Morning Arrivals,” New York Evening Express, 29 May 72, 3; “Prominent Arrivals,” New York Tribune, 30 May 72, 8). The “heavy cough” that Langdon had developed in Elmira had now become cause for alarm (15 May 72 to OC and MECclick to open link). Lilly Warner wrote her husband on Friday, 31 May:
The Clemens came Wed. eve’g—telegraphing for Dr. Taft to be at the house, the boy being taken very sick. He was better again yesterday. I went to see Mrs. C. but Mark came in instead—ever so cordial & pleasant—his wife was worn out, & a little, & he was’nt going to let her get up all day. He says the baby girl is perfectly healthy & no care or trouble. Langdon requires all their care. (CU-MARK)
In 1885, thirteen-year-old Susy set down the story as she had heard it from her parents:
When in Elmira Langdon began to fail but I think mamma did not know just what was the matter with him. At last it was time for Papa to return to Hartford and Langdon was real sick at that time, but still mamma decided to go with him thinking the journey might do him good. But when they reached Hartford he became very sick and his trouble proved to be diptheria. He died about a week after mamma & papa reached Hartford. After that mamma became very very ill, so ill that there seemed great danger of death, but with a great deal of good care she recovered. (Olivia Susan Clemens, 31)
Lilly Warner described these events in two letters to her husband (CU-MARK). On Monday, 3 June, she wrote:
The little Clemens boy has at last finished his weary little life. For two or three days his cold grew worse, till at last, Sat’dy, it was pronounced to be diptheria, & at 9 o’cl. yesterday morning he gave up his life-long struggle to live & died quietly in his mother’s arms. Of course everybody thinks what a mercy that he is at rest—but his poor devoted mother is almost heart-broken. It is always so, I believe—those children that are the most delicate & the need the most care—that everybody else wants to have die—are the most missed & mourned by their mothers. . . . Mr. Clemens was all tenderness but full of rejoicing for the baby—said he kept thinking it was’nt death for him but the beginning of life. She will see it all by & by, but can’t yet, & it is such a mercy that they have the little baby. She is strong & well, & an uncommonly pretty little baby.
In a second letter, written on 3 and 5 June (Monday and Wednesday), she continued:
It has been such a lovely June day—bright & cool—as sweet as that one we never can forget, six years ago. That little white form lying at rest over across the street has seemed to hallow it. All yesterday & today it has seemed as if birds & flowers & sunshine—everything—were rejoicing over that dear little fellow’s escape from sorrow & pain. . . .
Wednes. Morning. I couldn’t possibly send you a letter yesterday,—& none came from you. After breakfast I went up in the grove to get ferns & flowers for little Langdon.... The plan then was to have funeral services at the house early in the evening, & for Mr. Orion Clemens & Mr. & Mrs. Crane (the sister of Mrs. Livy C. & her husband) who came right on, Monday, go back—by the steamboat train—taking the little boy with them. Mrs. Clemens had at last given up going, overcome by the wishes of the Dr. & everybody else. We all felt that it would be almost wild for her to go in her poor state of health—but she felt at first that she must. We staid by the fountain a good while, after walking a good while down along the slope, & then, coming home, I found the time had been changed to 2 o’cl. & they were going by the river boat. So there was no time to think of anything else. Aunt Belle Isabella Beecher Hooker has been a great comfort to them—was with them Sat. night & has been nearly ever since, taking charge of things in her energetic & most kind way. Joe Twichell read from the Bible & made a simple & most appropriate prayer, we all of the neighborhood sitting in the parlor. It began to rain hard at noon, & was a regular storm when the carriges started off. Poor Mrs. Clemens had to go right back to her room, but several of the friends went to the boat. I staid last of all & put things back in their own places, & then came home to my own precious little well children. Oh, how sweet & lovely the baby seemed & how my heart ached for those who must give up theirs.
Langdon was taken to Elmira and buried in the Langdon plot at Woodlawn Cemetery, close by his grandfather Jervis (Taylor, 2278–80). A death mask of the child was made, and preserved by the grieving parents. Olivia would write to Mollie Clemens on 7 July, “Seeing the Mothers with their children does make me so homesick for Langdon—it seems as if I could not do without him— Mollie don’t let that green box in the closet of the study be touched it has the cast of Langdon’s face in it—” (CU-MARK). The mask was rediscovered in 1938 and presented to the Mark Twain Museum in Hannibal, Missouri. It may have been the basis for the plaster bust of Langdon executed by Buffalo sculptor Augusta C. Graves (1842–1925), now at the Arnot Art Museum in Elmira (Sweets, 1). Although the plaster bust is undated, a letter from New York sculptor Joseph Graef, dated 21 July 1872, establishes that Clemens was making inquiries about “having a childs bust executed in marble” at that time (CU-MARK). Presumably the commission was given to Graves shortly afterward.
In an autobiographical dictation of 1906, Clemens made a rare reference to Langdon, commenting on Susy’s 1885 statement, “When in Elmira Langdon began to fail but I think mamma did not know just what was the matter with him”:
I was the cause of the child’s illness. His mother trusted him to my care and I took him for a long drive in an open barouche for an airing. It was a raw, cold morning, but he was well wrapped about with furs and, in the hands of a careful person, no harm would have come to him. But I soon dropped into a reverie and forgot all about my charge. The furs fell away and exposed his bare legs. By and by the coachman noticed this, and I arranged the wraps again, but it was too late. The child was almost frozen. I hurried home with him. I was aghast at what I had done, and I feared the consequences. I have always felt shame for that treacherous morning’s work and have not allowed myself to think of it when I could help it. I doubt if I had the courage to make confession at that time. I think it most likely that I have never confessed until now. (AD, 22 Mar 1906, in MTA , 2:230–31)
In 1911, in a letter to Albert Bigelow Paine, Susan Crane transcribed her journal entries for the days before and after Langdon’s death:
Quarry Farm
Elmira.
Dear Mr Paine,
On reading your question in regard to the date of Langdons death, I thought, “Yes it was on Sunday June 3, 1872— But decided to be sure and looked in the old memorandum book to find the following which I give you to show that we were both one day wrong, and to give you the atmosphere of that event in small measure.
On looking at the small calendar in the book I found June 3, 1872 was Monday.
Fri May 24, 1872 Langdon “has a severe cold
25th Last night I had Langdon in our room, today he is miserable.
26 Sun Little Susy, was baptized.
27 Monday Langdon feeble.
28 Tues Theodore started for New York with Livy & Mr Clemens”—
It was considered safe to start with him, indeed he was bright and cheerful on the trip. He would not accept much care from the new nurse—which made it seem wise for Mr Crane to go. On his return he told me how Langdon smiled upon him and patted his shoulder as he carried him to the ferry from the train. Patted his friend with that beautiful hand, the miniature of his father’s, so fair and shapely, with palm always open, as if he cared to lay hold of no material good. He seemed all spirit. Wed, Thurs, Fri, Sat, passed—we heard of the safe arrival in Hartford, and rested in the assurance that the child was doing well because the last days we did not here, as I remember.
Sun 2nd reads—
“arranged the wildflowers for the church. Soon after we learned that little Langdon’s frail life had gone out—
Mon 3. “Theodore and I started at 800 last eve, reaching Hartford at 12m today. Coming to a house of sorrow, with sad hearts, for the child was very dear to us.
Tues 4. “After a short simple service, we started with the body of little Langdon, for home that it might be laid to rest beside father. It was hard to leave Livy in her desolation, but she said it was best.
Wed 5. We arrived in the sunlight, and with dear friends laid the pure beautiful sleeper near his grandfather just as the sun was going down.”
Livy was worn and feeble, and could not leave Susy—nor could Mr Clemens leave Livy—therefore they sent the little body to lovers by the hands of lovers.
Mr Beecher—and our old friend Mr Robinson took the white casket in their arms in a buggy, to the old home where you were that dark Sunday. In that same room where Mr Clemens & Livy were married the beautiful child was laid, surrounded by all our best beloved friends—while Mr Beecher offered prayer—
I recall how we lingered to look at that unusually beautiful face, and how conscious we were of the absent parents—
Yes, the drive was in Elmira, but we never thought of attributing Langdon’s death to that drive, as I remember. It is true he took cold, but was so much better, that the physician said he was perfectly able to take that journey.
After he arrived in Hartford diphtheria developed—Mr Clemens was often inclined to blame himself unjustly— (25 May 1911, ODaU)