July 21 Thursday – In Tyringham, Mass. Isabel Lyon wrote for Clara Clemens to Martha G. Pond thanking her for her “sweet letter of sympathy.” Clara had been “utterly prostrate” since Livy’s death and so Isabel answered with thanks [MTP].
Sam also wrote to Mary B. Cheney in South Manchester, Conn.
She was indeed what you have said, dear Mrs. Cheney, & I wish she could know that you have said it. I can imagine the pride & the pleasure it would give her, for she held you in peculiar reverence, & regarded your friendship for her as a great honor done her. A whisper of commendation from you was more to her than a pæan of praise from another. She stood in just this relation to no other friend, indeed to no other person. To her you were a being apart, & lifted above the common human level. You planted a seed once which blossomed and gave out a grateful fragrance for her all the months while her life continued. It was a letter in praise of Susy’s little play. It was never out of reach of her hand for sixteen years till she died. It is in a little locked box wherein she kept her precious things—things which have now been sacred these eight years. It was always by her, it was familiar with her tears, it was by her when her tears were dried & she sank to rest in the Great Peace.
She was beautiful & benignant in death, & I knew how Sir Ector felt & thought when he uttered his moving lament over his dead brother: “Ah, Launcelot, there thou liest, * * * thou wert the courtliest knight that ever bore shield; & thou wert the truest friend to thy lover that ever bestrode horse; & thou wert the truest lover for a sinful man that ever loved woman; & thou wert the kindest man that ever strake with sword; thou wert the goodliest person that ever came among press of knights; & thou wert the meekest man & the gentlest that ever ate in hall with ladies.”
It pleased her so when Colonel Cheney invited me out to South Manchester to dinner when I was in Hartford last year, & it grieved her that I did not go. But I did not know how to leave her a night in those threatening & pathetic days. The ruined family salute you & yours in love [MTP].
Sam also sent the “TO WHOM THIS SHALL COME” note to Elsie L. Leslie in Mentone, Calif., and added, “To Elsie Leslie Winter, with warm regards” [MTP]. Note: postmarked July 21; addressed in Lyon’s hand.
Sam also sent the “TO WHOM THIS SHALL COME” note to Pamela A. Moffett at the Crestview Sanitarium in Greenwich, Conn., and added, “Dear Sister: It is not likely that we shall have the heart to stir from here. We take no interest in life, we are hurt beyond healing. /Lovingly / Sam / Lee, Mass, July 21” [MTP]. Note:addressed in Lyon’s hand.
Sam also replied to Yale professor, Thomas R. Lounsbury:
I know you are right. I know that my loss will never be made up to me in the slightest. The family’s relation to her was peculiar & unusual, & could not exist toward another. Our love for her was the ordinary love, but added to it was a reverent & quite conscious worship. Perhaps it was nearly like a subjects’s feeling for his sovereign—a something which he does not have to reason out, or nurse, or study about, but which comes natural. It was an influence which proceeded from the grace & purity & sweetness, & simplicity, & charity, & magnanimity & dignity of her character. That & the frailty of her body, which made us nurse her, & tend her, & watch over her & hover about her with all ministries which might help out the poverty of her strength by riches drawn from our abundance. It was the attitude of more than one of her friends toward her, it was the common attitude of her servants toward her. Her servants stayed with her till death or marriage intervened: 12 years, 16, 19, 20, 22—that is a part of the record. And one is still with us who served us 23 years, & closed her eyes when death came, & prepared the body for burial. One that served her 20 years sent five dollars from his small savings to buy white roses for her coffin. Letters have come to me from shop-girl, postman, & all ranks in life, down to the humblest. And how moving is the eloquence of the untaught when it is the heart that is speaking! Our black George came, a stranger, to wash a set of windows, & stayed 18 years. Mrs. Clemens discharged him every now & then, but she was never able to get him to pack his satchel. He always explained that “You couldn’t get along without me, Mrs. Clemens, & I ain’t going to try to get along without you.” He had faults, but his worship of her was perfect, & made the rest of us blind to them. When we became bankrupt he was determined to serve her without wages, & would have done it if she had allowed it.
Joe Twichell married us in Elmira 34 years ago, in her father’s house, & on the spot where she stood as a happy young bride then, she lay in her coffin seven days ago, & over it Twichell spread his hands in benediction& farewell, & in a breaking voice commended her spirit to the peace of God [MTP].
Susan Kearny Selfridge in Cape Cod, Mass. wrote a letter of condolence to Sam [MTP].