The death of Jean Clemens occurred early in the morning of December 24, 1909. Mr. Clemens was in great stress of mind when I first saw him, but a few hours later I found him writing steadily.
"I am setting it down," he said, "everything. It is a relief to me to write it. It furnishes me an excuse for thinking." At intervals during that day and the next I looked in, and usually found him writing. Then on the evening of the 26th, when he knew that Jean had been laid to rest in Elmira, he came to my room with the manuscript in his hand.
"I have finished it," he said; "read it. I can form no opinion of it myself. If you think it worthy, some day--at the proper time--it can end my autobiography. It is the final chapter."
Four months later--almost to the day--(April 21st) he was with Jean.
Albert Bigelow Paine. Stormfield, Christmas Eve, 11 A.M., 1909.
Librarian Note: There is more than one author by this name in the Goodreads database.
Samuel Langhorne Clemens, known by the pen name Mark Twain, was an American writer, humorist and essayist. He was praised as the "greatest humorist the United States has produced," with William Faulkner calling him "the father of American literature." His novels include The Adventures of Tom Sawyer (1876) and its sequel, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (1884), with the latter often called the "Great American Novel." Twain also wrote A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court (1889) and Pudd'nhead Wilson (1894), and co-wrote The Gilded Age: A Tale of Today (1873) with Charles Dudley Warner.
A short but very lovely and emotional recounting of the death of Samuel Clemens' daughter Jean. She died in his home on Christmas Eve, 1909 in the bathtub, presumably after having a seizure. He had outlived his wife and 3 of his 4 children. This death seemed particularly poignant to him because she had been away at an epilepsy colony and had come home to be his personal secretary. He talked about how hard she had worked, and that he had tried to get her to ease up a bit. He assumed that he would be joining her in the afterlife soon, and indeed he died just 4 months later.
I can't give Twain's dirge for his beloved daughter any less than 5 stars.... But I found it disturbing that he didn't quaver in his loyalty to Darwinian duncery even on the very day of her death. Viz. when the writes that Jean inherited her love of animals, even snakes, from himself! I think she probably learned it from him, or maybe she had her own intelligence? Twain unconsciously reduced his own beloved daughter to a mere machine (vide "What is Man?"). Twain, in attempt to be progressive, only succeeded in making himself an adumbrated 🫏.
This short work is a poignant piece that is part emotional therapy for Twain and part character sketch of his daughter Jean. The latter years of Twain's life were very sad overall and marked with tragedy, grief and bitterness which led him to treat others poorly. What I like about this work is that it is a window into Twain without his carefully-sculpted façade. This is, rather, Samuel Clemens the man and not Mark Twain the auteur.
The understanding and acceptance of mortality is once again visited by the mind of Mark Twain. In listening to this literary gem, I was brought to tears, which stubbornly persisted right up until the end.
I felt every feeling. Mark Twain entwined the sorrow at loss and the joys of having the gift of that person in your life. My mother would have been 88 this month. I've been brooding. I've found peace in this book.