Perhaps for readers of a later day a word as to what constituted the Jameson raid would not be out of place here.Dr.Leander Starr Jameson was an English physician, located at Kimberley.President Kruger (Oom Paul), head of the South African Republic, was one of his patients; also, Lobengula, the Matabele chief.From Lobengula concessions were obtained which led to the formation of the South African Company.Jameson gave up his profession and went in for conquest, associating himself with the projects of Cecil Rhodes.
In time he became administrator of Rhodesia.By the end of 1894.
he was in high feather, and during a visit to England was feted as a sort of romantic conqueror of the olden time.Perhaps this turned his head; at all events at the end of 1895 came the startling news that "Dr.Jim," as he was called, at the head of six hundred men, had ridden into the Transvaal in support of a Rhodes scheme for an uprising at Johannesburg.The raid was a failure.Jameson, and those other knights of adventure, were captured by the forces of "Oom Paul," and some of them barely escaped execution.The Boer president handed them over to the English Government for punishment, and they received varying sentences, but all were eventually released.Jameson, later, became again prominent in South-African politics, but there is no record of any further raids.
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The Clemens party sailed from South Africa the middle of July, 1896, and on the last day of the month reached England.They had not planned to return to America, but to spend the winter in or near London in some quiet place where Clemens could write the book of his travels.
The two daughters in America, Susy and Jean, were expected to arrive August 12th, but on that day there came, instead, a letter saying that Susy Clemens was not well enough to sail.A cable inquiry was immediately sent, but the reply when it came was not satisfactory, and Mrs.Clemens and Clara sailed for America without further delay.
This was on August 15th.Three days later, in the old home at Hartford, Susy Clemens died of cerebral fever.She had been visiting Mrs.Charles Dudley Warner, but by the physician's advice had been removed to the comfort and quiet of her own home, only a few steps away.
Mark Twain, returning from his triumphant tour of the world in the hope that soon, now, he might be free from debt, with his family happily gathered about him, had to face alone this cruel blow.
There was no purpose in his going to America; Susy would be buried long before his arrival.He awaited in England the return of his broken family.They lived that winter in a quiet corner of Chelsea, No.23 Tedworth Square.
To Rev.Joseph H.Twichell, in Hartford, Conn.:
Permanent address:
% CHATTO & WINDUS
111 T.MARTIN'S LANE, LONDON, Sept.27, '96.
Through Livy and Katy I have learned, dear old Joe, how loyally you stood poor Susy's friend, and mine, and Livy's: how you came all the way down, twice, from your summer refuge on your merciful errands to bring the peace and comfort of your beloved presence, first to that poor child, and again to the broken heart of her poor desolate mother.It was like you;like your good great heart, like your matchless and unmatchable self.
It was no surprise to me to learn that you stayed by Susy long hours, careless of fatigue and heat, it was no surprise to me to learn that you could still the storms that swept her spirit when no other could; for she loved you, revered you, trusted you, and "Uncle Joe" was no empty phrase upon her lips! I am grateful to you, Joe, grateful to the bottom of my heart, which has always been filled with love for you, and respect and admiration; and I would have chosen you out of all the world to take my place at Susy's side and Livy's in those black hours.
Susy was a rare creature; the rarest that has been reared in Hartford in this generation.And Livy knew it, and you knew it, and Charley Warner and George, and Harmony, and the Hillyers and the Dunhams and the Cheneys, and Susy and Lilly, and the Bunces, and Henry Robinson and Dick Burton, and perhaps others.And I also was of the number, but not in the same degree--for she was above my duller comprehension.I merely knew that she was my superior in fineness of mind, in the delicacy and subtlety of her intellect, but to fully measure her I was not competent.
I know her better now; for I have read her private writings and sounded the deeps of her mind; and I know better, now, the treasure that was mine than I knew it when I had it.But I have this consolation: that dull as I was, I always knew enough to be proud when she commended me or my work --as proud as if Livy had done it herself--and I took it as the accolade from the hand of genius.I see now--as Livy always saw--that she had greatness in her; and that she herself was dimly conscious of it.
And now she is dead--and I can never tell her.
God bless you Joe--and all of your house.
S.L.C.
To Mr.Henry C.Robinson, Hartford, Conn.:
LONDON, Sept.28, '96.
It is as you say, dear old friend, "the pathos of it" yes, it was a piteous thing--as piteous a tragedy as any the year can furnish.When we started westward upon our long trip at half past ten at night, July 14, 1895, at Elmira, Susy stood on the platform in the blaze of the electric light waving her good-byes to us as the train glided away, her mother throwing back kisses and watching her through her tears.One year, one month, and one week later, Clara and her mother having exactly completed the circuit of the globe, drew up at that platform at the same hour of the night, in the same train and the same car--and again Susy had come a journey and was near at hand to meet them.She was waiting in the house she was born in, in her coffin.
