Chapt Nine- A Bird Without A Nest

Chapter 9 

A Bird Without a Nest

Olivia Langdon Clemens

                                                                          “ // ”

“My name is Olivia… they call me Livy- I was typical of most Victorian American children born into privilege, who enjoyed relative prosperity and even luxury- but with a heavy sense of 'noblesse oblige.'  Christ said, 'To whom much is given, much is expected.' I was raised to believe that- any blessings we enjoyed were intended to prepare us to be a funnel of blessing to others.

“ I was sick a great deal while growing up, and waited on a great deal... but even those struggles with poor health proved to be a preparation, and were used to refine my character, and hopefully my immortal soul, to be in fellowship with God, I was taught- in Glory... for eternity. My family thinks my infirmities sharpened my wits, and it certainly tempered my resolve later during my marriage. So all of it, even my sufferings, were God preparing me. But I was not so well emboldened- as time would tell.

“As God prepared me, another part of me hungered for freedom... Little could I know, my greatest and most challenging temptation would come early...

“My father, Jervis Langdon was a patron of the local female college, and in spite of my poor health or gender, he raised me to embrace high expectations for my life... what I might accomplish... who I might be. He always seemed to see more in me than I could ever see... or want to see in myself. So my attendance to Palmyra Female College would shape my intellect, and perhaps made me a worthy mate, I suppose, to America’s most celebrated author, my husband and lifelong child, Samuel Clemens.

“The men in my family always treated me as if I was on the verge of perfection… and a mundane life as a frail spinster. A deep religious Faith, and an over-protective father, and then thoroughly modern, somewhat unpopular ideas about Abolition... and Emancipation and Oh Lord, Women’s Suffrage... made me a horseshoe too hot to handle. I would be a challenging if not impossible partner for most American men of that time.

“Papa's goading... and my schooling had made me any man’s equal. Even they said so! And few men want an equal.

Charles and Olivia Langdon

“I was twenty-two and well prepared for Christian service when my brother Charles left for an exciting voyage across the Atlantic. That was where we found Sam. Many beaus had tried to court me, but I had very high standards, and of course unrealistic expectations. I trusted that God would bring me that man if there was one. I suppose dear Charles decided to cast a wider net… for both of us. Thinking back, only an egotistic suitor could have overlooked all of this... “Someone... like Sam...”

“An over-confident satirist, and as it turned out, a hard-living, devil-may-care rounder who could not perceive when he was out of his depth... So I was the fate, maybe the providentially designed harness for Samuel Clemens, better known to the world as 'Mark Twain.'

“Sam Clemens was everything I was not. We would beautifully embody the axiom that 'opposites attract.' Sam had seen my girlish visage when Charles had shown off a locket housing a miniature of his 'eligible sister' to him during their Mediterranean cruise. It seemed to have been an instant infatuation, which could only be satisfied by an earthly visit.

“And so Sam came… and we flirted and he worshiped… and begged! And, dare I confess this... he even faked an injury to extend his stay! His determination... and use of extraordinary means to win me were... well to a girl with one foot into spinsterhood, it was quite exciting... and yes, flattering.

“Frankly, I was torn between surrender and suspicion, but the Clemens charm proved too great. Little did I know, and that was a good thing, it would take all of my character and Faith and then some, to be his partner. But he and I seemed to grow close quickly, as if we had always known each other... feeling quickly that we were meant for one another... what some would call soulmates. Sam was my lifelong project.

“So we became “one flesh,”and his life's work became getting around or through me... And thanks be to God, I had lots of help. Other great authors… various publishers… his friends… My! How we used to confound him. But he always forgave me...

He reverently called me Live-eee from the very beginning… enthusiastically, as if I was the very essence of his life... his lifeblood... and he did not spare a drop. And I willingly became his primary reader… and censor and editor. I was not too different from a private English teacher, but one who adored her pupil. I called him “Youth” and frankly, always treated him such.

“He was… almost two men. Both overgrown boys… Sam the devoted husband, and Mark the world famous author and entertainer. Sam the wonderful father, the center of our universe, always playing with the children… but as an equal with them! And Mark, naughty boy of the Western world... impossible to tame or shame! Yes, I was always amused, and often frustrated...

“But never bored!”

“You might say that we were a merry family ship... never staying long in any harbor. I was the captain. And Sam was the sails, and I provided the anchor of course... A woman always has to. And in our case, America was the wind, and it blew so hard that no one could keep us in port!

“My sense of propriety required constant oversight of him, as I strained constantly to protect Sam from his relentless indiscretions. “Mark” was always trying to shock and anger his targets- he was an inveterate agitator. I was always his sifter, screening his words and thoughts… for his readers, and the world. And yes, posterity.

“He would bare his heart and soul, and too often blaspheme. It would break my heart, and every day, yes nearly every day I would somewhat stoically scratch out his worst tirades and attempt to tidy up his writings… and hopefully preserve his image. He would get so angry! I like to believe that I eventually persuaded Sam to write from his better self, to make his work relevant and altruistic, rather than so spiteful and antagonistic, and he tried. But every day was a new day.

“A son and three daughters were born to our union, but there would be daunting tragedies. Soon after my father, my real backbone, was deceased, I would have to dig deep into my Faith to find footing as our only son Langdon, our firstborn, died very young. God Bless his little soul… born premature, he and I struggled so, I could not nurse him, and he fought to live so bravely, but he had so much going against him.

“Sam just could not grasp it, tried to make jokes, wrote our friends that the baby would soon be giving lectures on milk! It was such manly hubris, but eventually he understood, and we began a lifelong pattern, which I sometimes regret; when things became intolerable, we moved. We sold our wonderful, luxurious home in Buffalo, which my father had given us when we got married, even lost money on it... but it was proving to be too much to maintain with my illness and Sam's lack of housekeeping skills.

“Sam had stopped writing, obsessed with our welfare, yet fairly helpless. The baby and I were so weak we did not care where we were. Sam seemed to never fathom what we needed... or what we did not need. He spent so much time in his own world, writing and then burning it, all the while avoiding the reality of little Langdon's odds...

“Then at the worst possible time, I was pregnant with our next child. Still Langdon could not even sit up... and he was so slow to stand or learn to walk. But he was so precious, I did not mind carrying him around, sharing each task with him on my hip. I only desired to be worthy of such a little dear. I did worry that my child-bearing could exhaust, or even kill me. Only women who have carried two children at the same time could understand. While I burned my candle at both ends, Sam was struggling to accept his lot in life; His constrained life, his future hindered, yoked with me and the children. I suppose every man who becomes a father has to face that realization.

“I thought I might die, and remember telling Sam that if I were to perish, he was to never let Langdon out of his sight... to read to him, and you know, engage with him, regardless, and teach him- that we would all some day be reunited... you know, in heaven. But how could I expect Sam to be very convincing?

“He promised to try... This still makes me tear up...”

“Then Susy came. She was so beautiful and strong, and everything Langdon could never be. And I was a shipwreck.

“One day Sam took Langdon for a carriage ride, it was too cold, and he shouldn't have. The covers he had spread to protect him slipped away in the wind. He and the driver did not notice, and when he finally did, Langdon's little legs were almost frozen stiff! MEN! What could I say? The damage was done, he felt horrible about it. And when Langdon died shortly after, he blamed himself. He tortured himself like a little boy who had been whipped so many times- that he just went out in the back and picked out his own switch. And that was not the last time that Sam whipped himself... I had to let it go, and focus on Susy.

“It was my dwindling Faith, temporarily resurrected, which rationalized that the Lord gave poor little Langdon relief from this life, which would have been a daily struggle for us both. Still, it was a deep, crippling grief, and my heart was broken. Susy became a grand distraction, and probably saved me at that point.

“To my great disappointment, Sam proved to be purely agnostic. When we met, he had been full of religious euphemisms, and created an air of religion, but he had been tormented by tragic, personal losses long before we met… ones which proved to him the fact that there is no God, no afterlife, no judgment, no hope or eternal rest…

“So I was devastated in two ways; A child in the grave, gone to be with the Lord, and a husband who only had contempt for the God of heaven... I fought his pessimism, quite confident in the beginning that he would repent. And more importantly, over the years I tried to teach our daughters the Christian Faith, or at least one after a fashion, which had been the foundation of my own character.

“But now I realized that I not only had to raise my children with little logistical or spiritual help, but dangerously hindered by an absent-minded father. And his lapses continued throughout our marriage. I would break down and trust him... only to regret it. He would place Clara, for instance, just a new infant, in a rocking chair and pick up a book or something and get absorbed in it. The next thing you know she is crashing on the floor. That is not half as bad as later when he was pushing Clara in a baby buggy and who knows why, let go of the thing and it began to roll down the hill!

“Cut her head that time. But Clara was a tough little chipmunk. The children became accustomed to his one-track-mindedness. They took care of him. Susy once wrote in her little journal, 'Papa is too absent-minded, he very seldom notices things as accurately as other people do...'

“ 'Not noticing things accurately'... Out of the mouths of babes...”

“Susy saw through everything- we were never really smart enough to raise such a child. She was so much like her father. But with a little woman's intuition.

“Few people ever know what it is like to be married to a genius, much less a national celebrity; Someone totally unpredictable, whose mind never rests; An impressionable child… but with mobility and money! And totally unrestrained! Sam would flare with some new outlandish revelation, and eventually suffer rebuke from me, or a host of objectors, and begin to steam and pout, then deflate and beg consideration, and very convincingly. And when that did not work, he was sly to seek reconciliation, and then, barely phased, do it all over again.

It was always like having four children in the house, but one was someone else’s. And pubescent. And a prodigy.

“I must confess, in spite of everything, that it was mostly great fun, and we had many wonderful days. And he sweetly doted on his daughters; Susy a beautiful, brilliant angel, Clara the classic middle child… a little prima donna… and baby Jean, our tomboy, who one day would be diagnosed with epilepsy. Typical of the youngest, she became a worthy rival for my concern and attention. It was a sack full of puppies.

“Youth would gather them and read to them and entertain them all through their wonderful, idyllic childhood, and was always their favorite playmate. He would make up delightful stories, even write them books… They would perform wonderful plays! Life was full of delights and surprises.

“But privately, Youth often said that life was unjust and random, and without order; An accident. Mankind, he claimed, was merely a 'nest of disgusting and unnecessary diseases'! Some gobbledigoop he got from Darwin or somebody…. When it came to the way God ran the world, he insisted he could do a better job himself.

“Susy, the oldest of our children, perhaps the most talented and the most adventuresome, was the first to demonstrate the confusion that our union created. I wish I had paid more attention. That fierce mind of hers hid behind the sweetest demeanor, the prettiest little face. She had been raised in the church, but she was very logical in her approach. When quite young her governess taught her about the Indians and of course discussed their unjust sufferings, and she quickly observed that God had allowed so much killing and pestilence and starvation in a weaker culture, that He could not be depended on.

“Sunday School was fine, if it worked and God’s Will be done... and looking at all of the suffering in the world, surely it had not been! Later she abandoned her nightly prayers, determined to find a god more reliable, one who better explained the pain and injustice in the world. She was convinced there had to be 'something better.'

“My explanations about Free Will seemed inadequate for her childlike expectations...

Later she discovered Christian Science. Sam became so frustrated with her, he even wrote a book about it, trying to reason with her. She had held on to God, and yet trusted in a woman- Mary Baker Eddy, calling all illness a mere illusion, and yet coming to peace with human suffering. Instead of questioning God, she questioned doctors, and Medical Practice, and the very science which her father used to base his skepticism.

“And this contrarian approach would be her undoing. Sam was outraged, and learned the hard way that if you do not offer your child a path, they will blaze their own, and perhaps right over a cliff.

“I was reminded of my upbringing, and realized that parents are a team, or else the very best intentions- and their results are doomed. Like oxen pulling a cart, they have to pull together. The cart cannot go forward, cannot even survive if they pull in different directions. And the children in the cart are such precious cargo. We owe it to them to get it right. And we owe it to God.

“To make the going even harder, Sam’s investments had broken our finances and we virtually fled to Europe for relief. We lived there for over a decade while Youth went back and forth trying to get his finances in order, and he finally did. Meanwhile Europe was an education in itself, and the girls were exposed to wonderful cultural opportunities, and to my regret, many new ideas and concepts of spirituality... and morality.

“They say that girls learn about God from watching their fathers. If their father is kind and effective, they will learn to trust in their “Father” in heaven. My girls saw Sam more as a delightful regular visitor, on the lam, always scurrying about, chasing rainbows, promoting his books, a sort of self-appointed U. S. Ambassador, leaving us to our own devices. And whenever he was home he would be entertaining some philosopher or scientist, who might say anything about religion or government. The girls benefited in many ways, but were robbed of innocence in some ways, and they never knew stability. It was my job to balance all of these influences and help them process all the various philosophies they were exposed to. I must say, I kind of made a mess of it.

"It was impossible to explain what I thought... what I believed, without directly contradicting their father, and causing a family argument.

“Clara took music lessons from some prominent European musicians, and met the love of her life, another student, Ossip Gabrilowitch, who did very well. He was a Russian pianist and took from the same instructor, Leschetizky, who kind of brought them together. And Ossip was an atheist. How could I object?

Olivia, Ossip, and Clara

“She was at school in another country, and I could not be there. This was such a different environment than the protective, sealed jar I was raised up in. Europeans are so much more philosophical and easy-going than Americans. I was so grateful when we finally went back to the States and her relationship with Ossip could cool.

“You see, women of my generation were not yet treated as citizens, and we had limited influence, so I was somewhat neutralized to argue for my religious beliefs; in a just and loving God, and His ancient laws- while my darling, world-renowned husband insisted on apostasy and flippant heresy, and was even famous for it. Few women held jobs, and most of us could not support ourselves. We were protected, and beloved... but could not even vote, and were more like grown children with no authority beyond the household chores...

“It is true that my family was wealthy, and I received an inheritance, in fact my resources actually subsidized our lifestyle, but I was raised... and determined to follow the Christian structure of the home, and submitted to my husband’s leadership. And this made for a strange contradiction, as Sam was granted authority over our finances by a religion which ironically, he did not adhere to!

“I chose to just hope and pray.”

“Christianity teaches that there is a hierarchy in a marriage... the woman answers to the head of the house; the man, and he answers to God. Or at least he will in the bye and bye. This sometimes seems unfair, or impractical, but it has worked pretty well for around five thousand years... The fight for Woman's Suffrage was barely scratching the surface of male domination. But there was another way of looking at it. Often that titular responsibility has brought out the best in a man. We have to wonder, had not God put the man in charge, what useless, immature boys they all would have been! But in my case, it took great Faith to live by that code. If that womanly submission, paired with God's Will fails to inspire the man to love his wife, as Christ loved the Church, it wreaks domestic havoc instead.

“So after a few years of that submission, we were nearly a hundred thousand dollars in debt, an insurmountable amount. There was no going back. He had sewn to the wind. We would reap the whirlwind.

“Then I helplessly watched as Susy spun off to a girl's college… Our friends had warned that she was too protected, in fact so indulged that she would find the world inhospitable. And sure enough, she made every wrong turn at every difficult choice. Susy began to go through a surprising adjustment in her loyalties, and primarily falling out of love with her father, who had always been her idol. We were flabbergasted with what happened next.

“Susy became deeply involved with another classmate, and school authorities became quite concerned… No one knew what to do, what to say. She caused a string of controversies and they ultimately had to dismiss her at Bryn Mawr… so she was humiliated, heartbroken I guess, and Sam went and tried to reason with them… she was just a high-strung kid… She deserved a few allowances...

The acorn doesn’t fall far from the tree. Sam had gone to Bryn Mawr to try to smooth things over and they asked him to speak to an assembly while he was there. Susy, already scandalized, begged him beforehand not to tell a certain story she considered kind of juvenile, one that she thought might upset some of her classmates. Of course, knowing Sam, then he had to. He said, once she forbid him, it was all he could think of! And he did tell the story to great applause- and she became hysterical.

“That day Youth saw with his own eyes- Susy was severing herself; from him, from the school, from social approval... and his theories about personal behavior, of satisfying oneself above all others, did not work very well inside of an angry young woman with raging hormones. Once again, Youth had no answers... no fatherly direction. There is only one Bible in such circumstances... Sam had never written one... and there was no other authority equal to it.

“So then she came home… and began to sink into histrionics or depression. We soon went back to Europe, and Susy became a recluse, hiding in her room, often refusing to greet company, writing long, passionate letters to her little friend, indulging in other impossible romantic fantasies. Susy seemed to be attracted to all things forbidden. It was obvious then that she had no reason not to be. The vacuum left from pure apostasy is truly daunting.

“Sam and I decided to take the family on a tour around the world, to raise funds and promote “Mark Twain's” books, and I hoped this would cheer Susy up, perhaps distract her from her troubles. But she stunned us and elected to stay home… with Jean, whose epilepsy prohibited such travel.

Clara Clemens

“If I had only known what lay in store…. I would never have left either of them. But we tried to be philosophical and understanding, and took faithful, buoyant Clara on a great adventure and had a marvelous trip. She blossomed so much in our estimation, as we watched her grow into womanhood. It was a special time... and ignorance was bliss…

“I cannot say for sure, but now we know, we sailed away from a precarious situation, which may have been made worse, leaving two young women with old friends who were not well prepared for that responsibility. Katy, our beloved housemaid was in charge of them, but they ran her in circles. Suddenly, when our world tour was winding up, we were notified of Susy’s peril. Clara and I rushed back to the States, but too late. Susy had died from spinal meningitis, they said. But soon we learned of her living nightmare... that she had been going blind while engaging in a dark spiritual séance… for many days…

“She was gone! A sudden, horrific end for the light of our family.

“Youth was crushed to pieces. We all were. But the girls and I had each other… and faith in God, and anticipation of an afterlife, where all Youth had were his doubts, about God- and himself… and so many regrets about things he had said, or done, or not done.

“One of the wonderful things about believing in God, at least the Christian version of Him, is the availability of FORGIVENESS. You know that God forgives you, so you can eventually forgive yourself. And with God's help, you can forgive others. You have to. You cannot accept forgiveness from Him without feeling the obligation to forgive others. 'Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us…' These were the words of Christ, yet Youth had none of it. It is only through forgiveness- especially self-forgiveness, that anyone ever finds inner peace.

“Suddenly... after years of agnostic resistance, Sam Clemens wanted to believe in something! But by then I had developed a heart condition that would eventually take me.

“The doctors eventually found the source of my anxiety and heartbreak. It was not just the loss of our oldest child, our golden girl, but many other things.

“After Susy died there, Sam renamed our Hartford home “Heartbreak.” We had to give it up. I could not bear to enter. So we sold it and moved again. Our financial situation had forced us out of our first house, and after a decade of exile in Europe, our spiritual brokenness poisoned our second home in Hartford, and now we were just like seaweed caught in the current of the sea. I had always had a such strong instinct for nest building... but still I had no nest.

“Now a precious child had perished, and I had not even been there… I was mired in a pit of guilt… and I am ashamed to say, suffering a crisis in my Faith. And, although I fought that, all of these failures and compromises, I began to harbor deep disillusionment, irreconcilable feelings towards the one who had orchestrated my loss of self-respect; Samuel Clemens- and his alter-ego, Mark Twain...who had become my family’s eternal fatal attraction. I was amazed at how quickly this revelation impacted my medical care.

Olivia Clemens in later years

“As my condition worsened, the doctors agreed that Sam must not even come into my room- could not even talk through the door! I did not see him for over three months.”

“This may sound extreme, but in fact it was long overdue. For some time before, Youth had been experimenting, writing a series of essays or satires, all with anti-Christian themes. One especially had upset me, they all bothered me, but this one… was Satan supposedly writing letters back to Heaven from Earth, disparaging mortals who believe in God, who foolishly trust in Him. 'Mark' spoke through Satan, his latest literary alter-ego, to express all of his skepticism about God and religion and believers.

“It was horrid. And I could no longer censor him. Youth could be brilliant, and he was fearless and a bit devilish at times, and he was having a ball... but I forbid him to publish those letters. And others almost as objectionable. He had literally become the Devil’s advocate!

“My grief was actually worse than his… As head of the household, his spiritual rebellion had lured his family to oblivion, Hell… whatever that might be, but Sam did not believe in hell… So I was mostly mad at myself. I had neglected my Faith, and allowed Sam’s cavalier spiritual journey to become poor Susy’s everlasting destiny.

“After the first heart attack, I no doubt did what many persons do in the aftermath of a life or death encounter. They take stock in their past and present and ask, 'Why did God let me live?' But I wasn’t sure anymore that I wanted to live. That also brought shame.

“And more importantly, had I been wrong to have turned my back on the Faith I once had? One that I once risked my life and liberty to obey… to achieve freedom for slaves! Yet my own daughters were in a worse kind of bondage.

“Now I was limited to a mattress in a quiet bedroom, alone most of the time, with my many regrets. If I no longer believed in a Hell, I knew there was a dark place of self-caused regrets, a haunting absence of God and His purpose.

“And if there is a Hell, it would be just like that.”

“The doctor forbid Sam's regular visits to my bedroom. He could come occasionally, but “Mark Twain” was never to be allowed in the room again. Our daughter Jean was kept out as well, since one of her seizures could trigger my demise. Clara became the go-between. Youth, poor thing, had always depended on my spiritual strength to provide the anchor and the rudder in our family ship, which was now a little life-raft about to capsize. And he was now manning his own vessel for the first time in many years.

“I spent seven months in my room, never knowing if I would live another week. He wrote me sweet letters, promising to never again question my faith, or God or the afterlife. That was some comfort. If it could be believed.

He wanted to set up his office next to my room, just to be near. He could work better just knowing I was in the next room. As usual, the wants and needs of Mark Twain dictated our arrangement, as it had our lives for decades.

You cannot imagine what it is like to be in love with, devoted to, emotionally dependent on the person who is killing you.

“The isolation, prescribed by my doctors drove him crazy, and he did not know how to cope with it. I don’t think the word rejection was in his vocabulary. We found it a little humorous… and we could not enforce it completely, any more than you would deny a child his mother. Still, the doctor was afraid that any dealings with “Mark” could be the last straw. And sadly they might have been.

“Someone else would have to read and edit his manuscripts… someone else would have to argue with him… Someone stronger than me would have to wrestle with Mark Twain and his sweet advocate, Sam Clemens, and protect his stellar public image, and keep him from self-destruction… and keep him fed and comfortable, and generally happy with life… And this was the problem, and it led to more troubles and it killed me. But slowly.

“When I was strong enough, and hopefully somewhat recovered, we planned to get a change of scenery, to get Youth away from so many distractions and bad influences. He had so many parasitic friends, and gushing admirers, and inventors who had heard that he had a lot of money… which was not true… and he needed a change as much as I. We found a lovely place in Italy, where I could get some Mediterranean sun and air, and Youth could get some solitude. We took along Katy, our wonderful maid, now a member of the family, and the girls of course, and a new girl, Isabel Lyon, to be... me…

“To take dictation and type and such.”

“Then I had another heart attack… it was quite a scare for several reasons. There were lots of problems at the villa in Florence where we were staying… And then I knew, I would never leave that bed.

“I would never make it back to America. The second attack consumed all of my strength, and my will to live. And I watched Isabel… Lyon... move in like a cat on a bird’s nest… I was too weak to do anything, except beg her to take care of them… and I knew she would, I could see it. I would be gone in a matter of weeks.

Youth sent me the sweetest letters. I had Clara read them. The doctor let him in the room more than in the past, but it was so awkward. He was afraid to say or do anything, afraid it might be the final straw.

And then… it came.”