January 19 Tuesday – At 23 Tedworth Square in London, Sam wrote to Frank E. Bliss about application for renewal of copyright on IA, which was expiring. He referred to Bliss’ Nov. 16, 1896 letter that the copyright would “not be legally ripe before Jan. 29, 1897.” Since that date was not far off, would Bliss please send the enclosed application to Ainsworth R. Spofford, Library of Congress, together with the appropriate fee? Also the required advertisement of renewal would have to be made; Sam gave Bliss his permission to sign it for him as he would not be back in America before then. Ownership of the book should be retained by Livy; if a “formal transfer” to her needed to be made, H.H. Rogers had the former transfer-papers; if a new set had to be drawn up would Bliss please send it for him to sign, and let him know if it should be executed in front of a “Consul or other officer.”

Also, Sam assumed that FE should be the size of RI, about 550 pages and some 180,000 words. He had 130,000 written and could finish by Mar. 1, but expected to write more “so that I can scratch out as much as I want to” in editing [MTP]. Note: Mar. 5 to Rogers and Mar. 19 to Bliss suggest he held this letter until after Bliss signed the contract; or, he may have simply repeated his request for renewal as MTHHR 268n1 asserts.

Sam then wrote to H.H. Rogers:

“As soon as I hear that Bliss & Harper have executed their end of the contracts I’ll write Bliss and send through him an application for renewal of Innocents Abroad. I have already written the letter.”

Sam wrote he was further along on FE than he thought but would write a deal more than necessary. “I have lost yesterday & to-day. Tired. Also, stupid. But it won’t last” [MTHHR 262].

Note: Sam undoubtedly sent Bliss’ letter off within a few days, if not sooner. Bliss may have been confused about assignment to Livy for the renewal, or for some reason simply dragged his feet; Sam repeated his request for renewal on Jan. 30, Mar. 19, and May 31. Six months from the “legally ripe” date of Jan. 29, 1897 was the legal limit. See source, p.263n2&3. FE and it’s prospective profits undoubtedly gave Sam a bit of leverage on Bliss for exercising the contract and the renewal. Editors for MTHHR chose to substitute “and” for “&” in Clemens’ letters to Rogers. Here and forward, MTP transcriptions were followed and the “&” signs were usually replaced. MTHHR is still cited as accessibility for the reader is easier than making a trip to Berkeley.

Sam also replied to the Jan. 18 of J. Woulfe Flanagan, his neighbor at 21 Tedworth Square, who had complained of Clara Clemens’ piano practicing. Sam found it to be “a difficult situation,” and explained that Clara did not play for amusement but to practice for lessons; the family could not live in a hotel; nor could they move the piano to any other wall, so had to be on the wall common to their respective flats. He added:

You perceive that my situation is embarrassing. And this is not all, nor the worst. As my daughter’s health improves, her teacher will require her to begin her practice much earlier than she does now.

I am sure I do not know what to do. I have taken the house until July 1st, with the privilege of keeping it a year after that time. …Can you suggest anything? I shall be glad to examine it; & if possible, fall in with i

Sam also wrote to Francis H. Skrine, whom Sam had met in Calcutta in early 1896. Sam was glad to hear from Skrine (letter not extant) but sorry to hear that Mrs. Skrine (Helen Lucy Stewart Skrine) had been ill. He wrote that since their bereavement he was the only well one in the family. Sam’s option to renew the flat now seemed up in the air, perhaps due to complaints about Clara’s piano playing:

We shall be in London a while yet, but not at the above address very long, I suppose. We think of seeking a place in the country, in May, but we may go to the continent We are restless & unsettled. We had a charted course; we have none now. We are derelicts—& derelicts are indifferent to what may happen.

I wish we could be at home to make you welcome; but we cannot look upon that house yet [MTP].

Note: Sam’s lease on the Tedworth Sq. flat expired July 1, so writing of leaving earlier suggests a sudden change of course. With the loss of Susy, the plans and health of the remaining daughters became uppermost in his concerns. The Skrines were not in London, but were planning on a trip to America

Sam also replied to Joe Twichell (no recent letters from Twichell are extant) frankly confessing things and with a tone he often used with Twichell, whom he admired greatly in spiritual matters. Joe was undoubtedly sensitive to the family’s mourning and had probably sent a short note asking if Sam wanted him to write, respecting his wishes if he wished to remain secluded. Sam’s reply illuminates his mood, sorrows and struggles at this time:

Do I want you to write me? Indeed I do. I do not want other people to write, but I do want you to do it. The others break my heart, but you will not. You have a something divine in you that is not in other men. You have the touch that heals, not lacerates. And you know the secret places of our hearts. You know our life— the outside of it—as the others do—& the inside of it—which they do not. You have seen our whole voyage. You have seen us go to sea, a cloud of sail, & the flag at the peak; & you see us now, chartless, adrift— derelicts; battered, water-logged, our sales a ruck of rags, our pride gone….

I did not know that Susy was part of us; I did not know that she could go away; I did not know that she could go away & take our lives with her, yet leave our dull bodies behind. And I did not know what she was. To me she was but treasure in the bank; the amount known, the need to look at it daily, handle it, weight it, count it, realize it, not necessary; & now that I would do it, it is too late; they tell me it is not there, has vanished away in a night, the bank is broken, my fortune is gone, I am a pauper. How am I to comprehend this? How am I to have it? Why am I robbed, & who is benefited?

Sam continued on in this vein about Susy, glad at least she died in the Farmington Ave. home with Sue Crane, Katy Leary, John and Ellen O’Neil, and Twichell with her at the end. Even in his grief Sam recognized his writing saved him, though he pitied Livy who did not have any such salve:

She does not see people, & cannot; books have lost their interest for her. She sits solitary; & all the day, & all the days, wonders how it all happened, & why. We others are always busy with our affairs, but Susy was her comrade—had to be driven from her loving persecutions—sometimes at 1 in the morning. I have done it often. To Livy the persecutions were welcome. It was heaven to her to be plagued like that. But it is ended now. Livy stands so in need of help; & none among us all could help her like you.

At the end of the letter Sam looked forward to again taking walks with Joe; then they might “have such talks!” [MTP].

Powers writes of Sam’s work and Livy’s help during this period:

He continued writing through the damp London winter and early spring of 1897. He wrote rapidly and grimly, often well into the night. Livy kept herself from staring at the walls by editing his pages as they issued—she’d lost interest in people, her own reading, nearly everything. The book that he was producing—its working title was “Round the World”—was to be undistinguished, merely competent. And yet in a certain way, it was the most important work he ever did—simply because it was work. Work was all that kept him motivated enough to meet each day, and the only discharge of his terrible, hell-tossed nights [MT A Life 582-3]. Note: See Feb. 26 to Rogers for sources of his irritation.

J. Woulfe Flanagan wrote to Sam, thanking him for “the courteous tone” of his reply (this day); he would try placing his bed in other rooms where “the sound of the piano in its present position does not penetrate” [MTP]. Note: Sam wrote on the envelope, “It appears that this is not an old one, but a callow young thing whose ears are not fully grown yet. They promise well”