11 November 1870 • Buffalo, N.Y. (MS: CtHMTH, UCCL 00530)
NOTICE Ⓐemendation.—Do not tell grandma who the letter is from. Let her find out as she goes along.
I have waited with some impatience to hear from you or from some other member of the family, but up to this time no letter has arrived for me. I have received enthusiastic notice in telegrams from Cleveland & in congratulations from Mr. Brooks in New York—& the telegrams from Elmira have been gladly received & carefully prefer preserved.1explanatory note But from you personally, ha Ⓐemendation I have not heard, at least in the shape of a letter, & I am obliged to say that I am hurt at it. Every now & then I think it all over & then I comprehend that you cannot write in these latter years without great difficulty.2explanatory note Of course that makes me feel better about it, but it does not last long. I soon get to worrying again & saying to myself that you might have written me one line at least. But never mind, I know it is all just as it should be, & that you have neglected me not because you desired to do it, but because you could not well help it. For I will not believe but that you love me. I am four days old to-day at eleven o’clock. Do you recollect when you were only 4 days old? I’ Ⓐemendation guess you don’t. I am looking for Granny Fairbanks tomorrow, & will be glad to see her, too, but I shall be outrageously sorry to part with Aunt Susie Crane, for she was here when I first came, & ha I have come to like her society very much, & she knows my disposition better than anybody except Auntie Smith.3explanatory note
I am boarding with a strange young woman by the name of Brown, & her baby is boarding with my mother. I expect Mrs. Brown could take several more boarders like me, for I am not a very hearty eater. I don’t understand this little game, but I guess it is all right. It is some little neat trick of my father’s to save expense, I fancy.
I have a ridiculous time of it with clothes. Except Ⓐemendation a shirt which aunt Hattie4explanatory note made for me I haven’t a rag in the world that fits me. Everything is too large. You ought to see the things they call “slips.” A I am only 18 13 inches long, & these things are an Ⓐemendation as much as 3 feet. Think of it. I trip & break my neck every time I make a step, for I can’t think to gather up the surplus when I am in a hurry.
I tell you I am tired being bundled up head & ears nine-tenths of my time. And I don’t like this thing of being stripped naked & washed. I like to be stripped & warmed at the stove—that is real bully—but I do despise this washing business. I never I believe it to be a gratuitous & unnecessary piece of meanness. I never see them wash the cat.
And I tell you it is dull, roosting around on pillows & rocking chairs & everybody else spinning around town having a good time. Sometimes they let that borr other baby lie on the kitchen table & wink at the sun, but bless you I never get a show. Sometimes I get so mad that I cannot keep my temper or my opinion. But it only makes things worse. They call it colic, & give me some execrable medicine. Colic. Ⓐemendation Everything a is colic. A baby can’t open its mouth about the simplest matter but up comes some wise body & says it is wind in its bowels. When I saw the dog the first time, I made a noise which was partly fright & partly admiration—but it cost me a double dose of medicine for wind in the bowels. Does these people take me for a balloon?
I am not entirely satisfied with my complexion. I am as red as a lobster. I am really ashamed to see company. But I am perfectly satisfied with my personal appearance, for I think I look just like aunt Susie. They keep me on the shortest kind of rations, & that is one thing that don’t suit the subscriber. My mother has mashed potatoes, & gruel, & tea, & toast, & all sorts of sumptuous fare, but she never gives me a bite—& you can risk your last dollar on it that I don’t ask for it. It would only be another case of “wind in the bowels.” You’ll have to excuse me. I am learning to keep my remarks to myself. {But between you & I, Grandma, I get the ev advantage of them occasionly—now last night I keep keptⒶemendation aunt Smith getting up every hour to feed me— but and between you & me and I wasn’t hungry once.}
That doctor has just been here again. Come to g play some fresh swindle on me, I suppose. He is the meanest looking white man I ever saw. Mind, now, this is not a splenetic & prejudiced outburst, but a d calm & deliberate opinion formed & founded upon careful observation. Won’t I “lay” for him when I get my teeth?5explanatory note
Good-bye Grandma, good-byeⒶemendation. Great love to you & grandma6explanatory note & all the whole household.
Only one telegram from Cleveland and one from Elmira have survived (7 Nov 70 to Langdon, nn. 2–3click to open link). The congratulations from Henry J. Brooks, husband of Fidele, are now lost, but probably also came by telegram on 7 or 8 November.
Eunice Ford, Langdon Clemens’s eighty-eight-year-old great-grandmother, had been in a state of “almost helplessness” for the past few years, but her sense of humor reportedly remained intact ( L3 , 164–65 n. 5).
The baby’s regular nursemaid at this time. The title was honorary, not familial (19 Nov 70 to Langdonclick to open link).
Harriet (Hattie) Lewis, Olivia Clemens’s maternal first cousin, had been the Clemenses’ confidante during their courtship ( L3 , passim, especially 23 n. 2). She maintained a close relationship with them, recalling in 1897: “I had the pleasure of visiting them several times while they remained in Buffalo. More often after the baby came” (Paff, 8).
Andrew R. Wright (1825–1900) began his medical studies in Buffalo, served as a ship’s surgeon for two years, and completed his education in Paris and at the Cleveland Homeopathic College before returning to Buffalo in 1859. He practiced out of his home at 162 Pearl Street and seems to have delivered Langdon and then attended him at least until mid-March 1871 (14 Mar 71 to Crane; “Dr. A. R. Wright Dead,” Buffalo Express, 25 Feb 1900, 13; Buffalo Directory: 1870, 582; 1871, 285, 613).
Olivia Lewis Langdon.
MS, Mark Twain House, Hartford (CtHMTH).
L4 , 232–234; LLMT , 155–57.
donated to CtHMTH in 1962 by Ida Langdon.
More information on provenance may be found in Description of Provenanceclick to open link.