August 16 Sunday – Neider writes of Susy’s torment:

Next morning, a Sunday, she walked about a bit in pain and delirium, then felt very weak and returned to bed, but before doing so, rummaging in a closet, she came across a gown she had once seen her mother wear. She thought the gown was her dead mother, and, kissing it, began to cry [Papa 43].

Wecter further describes the scene:

…she paced the floor in a raging fever, often taking pen and paper to scribble those notes in a large sometimes incoherent hand…She fancied that her companion was [some biographers say she fancied herself as] La Malibran, famous Parisian mezzo-soprano who had died sixty years before, at only little more than Susy’s age…. “My benefactress Mme Malibran Now I can better hold you,” wrote the dying girl in Hartford. “…In strength I bow to Mme Malibran Mr. Clemens Mr. Zola…to me darkness must remain from everlasting to everlasting [LLMT 319].

Note: Susy slipped into a coma later this day and would not recover. For the full text of Susy’s delirious writings, about 1,000 words written on 47 sheets of 9” x 5 ¾” lined paper, see Papa, 44-7. See also MTB 1020-1024, “Passing of Susy.”

At about noon Susy went blind. Charles Langdon and Katy Leary were with her. In her delirium she touched Katy’s face and said, “Mama” — her last word. A short time after she slipped into a coma, that she would not recover from [Papa 48]. Note: Neider puts her uncle Theo with her, but he died on July 3, 1889. MTA 36 gives the time of Susy’s last word at 1 p.m. with coma ensuing at 2.p.m.

Meanwhile, in Guildford, Sam began an anguished letter to Livy that he finished on Aug. 17:

My darling, you were in my mind till I went to sleep last night, & there when I woke this morning, & you have been there ever since — you have not been out of it a single waking moment since you disappeared from my vision. I hope you are not sad to-day, but I am afraid you are. You & Clara are making the only sad voyage of all the round-the-world trip. I am not demonstrative; I am always hiding my feelings; but my heart was wrung yesterday. I could not tell you how deeply I loved you nor how grieved I was for you, nor how I pitied you in this awful trouble that my mistakes have brought upon you. You forgive me, I know, but I shall never forgive myself while the life is in me. If you find our poor little Susy in the state I seem to foresee, your dear head will be grayer when I see it next.

Sam talked about taking R.S. Smythe to lunch at the hotel and leaving for Guildford at 2 p.m. and of sending another cablegram at 4 p.m. that Livy and Clara were on their way. He also handled prior engagements, sending a postcard to Chatto to say “Come Monday as arranged,” and to agents at Weybridge that he would be there to watch for table-ware that Livy likely had ordered; and he would send a line to Miss Hawdon advising her that Livy was gone. The end of this day’s letters was a potpourri of details:

I told Emily about that little bill that is to be paid; she knew the name. (I am writing on my knee.) I wore my slippers last night in tramping about in my shire. Mr. Smythe & I played billiards till midnight, & I gave him the pyjamas that had not been worn. He has gone to London and will be back at 6.30 with his things. Satan (the cat) came in early by the window & took a nap. Package of photos arrived from France this morning for Clara. Emily has the Key of the trunk room. Your note from this ship came this morning. I will remember, dear heart, about Emily’s day out, Thursday, 26th. [LLMT 317-8]. Note: Emily was likely a hired servant.