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diff --git a/2988-h/2988-h.htm b/2988-h/2988-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dcb94b9 --- /dev/null +++ b/2988-h/2988-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,66480 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Mark Twain a Biography, by Albert Bigelow Paine + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:15%; background:#faebd7; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + pre { font-family: Times New Roman;font-style: italic; +font-size: 100%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mark Twain, A Biography, 1835-1910, Complete +by Albert Bigelow Paine + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Mark Twain, A Biography, 1835-1910, Complete + The Personal And Literary Life Of Samuel Langhorne Clemens + +Author: Albert Bigelow Paine + +Release Date: August 21, 2006 [EBook #2988] +Last Updated: February 3, 2019 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARK TWAIN, A BIOGRAPHY, *** + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <h1> + MARK TWAIN A BIOGRAPHY + </h1> + <h2> + THE PERSONAL AND LITERARY LIFE OF SAMUEL LANGHORNE CLEMENS + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h3> + BY ALBERT BIGELOW PAINE + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto" cellpadding="4" border="3"> + <tr> + <td></td> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>VOLUME I, Part 1: 1835-1866</b> </a> + </td> + <td> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td></td> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> AN ACKNOWLEDGMENT </a> + </td> + <td> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td></td> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> PREFATORY NOTE </a> + </td> + <td> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td></td> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> <b>MARK TWAIN—A BIOGRAPHY</b> </a> + </td> + <td> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> I. </a> + </td> + <td> + ANCESTORS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> II. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE FORTUNES OF JOHN AND JANE CLEMENS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> III. </a> + </td> + <td> + A HUMBLE BIRTHPLACE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> IV. </a> + </td> + <td> + BEGINNING A LONG JOURNEY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> V. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE WAY OF FORTUNE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> VI. </a> + </td> + <td> + A NEW HOME + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> VII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE LITTLE TOWN OF HANNIBAL. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> VIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE FARM + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> IX. </a> + </td> + <td> + SCHOOL-DAYS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> X. </a> + </td> + <td> + EARLY VICISSITUDE AND SORROW + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XI. </a> + </td> + <td> + DAYS OF EDUCATION + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XII. </a> + </td> + <td> + TOM SAWYER'S BAND + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE GENTLER SIDE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE PASSING OF JOHN CLEMENS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XV. </a> + </td> + <td> + A YOUNG BEN FRANKLIN + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> XVI. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE TURNING-POINT + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> XVII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE HANNIBAL “JOURNAL” + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> XVIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE BEGINNING OF A LITERARY LIFE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> XIX. </a> + </td> + <td> + IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF FRANKLIN + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> XX. </a> + </td> + <td> + KEOKUK DAYS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> XXI. </a> + </td> + <td> + SCOTCHMAN NAMED MACFARLANE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> XXII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE OLD CALL OF THE RIVER + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> XXIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE SUPREME SCIENCE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> XXIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE RIVER CURRICULUM + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> XXV. </a> + </td> + <td> + LOVE-MAKING AND ADVENTURE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> XXVI. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE TRAGEDY OF THE “PENNSYLVANIA” + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> XXVII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE PILOT + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> XXVIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + PILOTING AND PROPHECY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> XXIX. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE END OF PILOTING + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> XXX. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE SOLDIER + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> XXXI. </a> + </td> + <td> + OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> XXXII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE PIONEER + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0037"> XXXIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE PROSPECTOR + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0038"> XXXIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + TERRITORIAL CHARACTERISTICS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0039"> XXXV. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE MINER + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0040"> XXXVI. </a> + </td> + <td> + LAST MINING DAYS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0041"> XXXVII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE NEW ESTATE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0042"> XXXVIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + ONE OF THE “STAFF” + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0043"> XXXIX. </a> + </td> + <td> + PHILOSOPHY AND POETRY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0044"> XL. </a> + </td> + <td> + "MARK TWAIN” + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0045"> XLI. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE CREAM OF COMSTOCK HUMOR + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0046"> XLII. </a> + </td> + <td> + REPORTORIAL DAYS. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0047"> XLIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + ARTEMUS WARD + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0048"> XLIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + GOVERNOR OF THE “THIRD HOUSE” + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0049"> XLV. </a> + </td> + <td> + A COMSTOCK DUEL. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0050"> XLVI. </a> + </td> + <td> + GETTING SETTLED IN SAN FRANCISCO + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0051"> XLVII. </a> + </td> + <td> + BOHEMIAN DAYS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0052"> XLVIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE REFUGE OF THE HILLS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0053"> XLIX. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE JUMPING FROG + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0054"> L. </a> + </td> + <td> + BACK TO THE TUMULT + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0055"> LI. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE CORNER-STONE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0056"> LII. </a> + </td> + <td> + A COMMISSION TO THE SANDWICH ISLANDS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0057"> LIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + ANSON BURLINGAME AND THE “HORNET” DISASTER + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td></td> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0058"> <b>VOLUME I, Part 2: 1866-1875</b> </a> + </td> + <td> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0059"> LIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE LECTURER + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0060"> LV. </a> + </td> + <td> + HIGHWAY ROBBERY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0061"> LVI. </a> + </td> + <td> + BACK TO THE STATES + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0062"> LVII. </a> + </td> + <td> + OLD FRIENDS AND NEW PLANS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0063"> LVIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + A NEW BOOK AND A LECTURE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0064"> LIX. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE FIRST BOOK + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0065"> LX. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE INNOCENTS AT SEA + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0066"> LXI. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE INNOCENTS ABROAD + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0067"> LXII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE RETURN OF THE PILGRIMS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0068"> LXIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + IN WASHINGTON—A PUBLISHING PROPOSITION + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0069"> LXIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + OLIVIA LANGDON + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0070"> LXV. </a> + </td> + <td> + A CONTRACT WITH ELISHA BLISS, JR. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0071"> LXVI. </a> + </td> + <td> + BACK TO SAN FRANCISCO + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0072"> LXVII. </a> + </td> + <td> + A VISIT TO ELMIRA + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0073"> LXVIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE REV. “JOE” TWICHELL. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0074"> LXIX. </a> + </td> + <td> + A LECTURE TOUR + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0075"> LXX. </a> + </td> + <td> + INNOCENTS AT HOME—AND “THE INNOCENTS ABROAD” + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0076"> LXXI. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE GREAT BOOK OF TRAVEL. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0077"> LXXII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE PURCHASE OF A PAPER. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0078"> LXXIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE FIRST MEETING WITH HOWELLS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0079"> LXXIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE WEDDING-DAY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0080"> LXXV. </a> + </td> + <td> + AS TO DESTINY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0081"> LXXVI. </a> + </td> + <td> + ON THE BUFFALO “EXPRESS” + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0082"> LXXVII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE “GALAXY” + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0083"> LXXVIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE PRIMROSE PATH + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0084"> LXXIX. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE OLD HUMAN STORY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0085"> LXXX. </a> + </td> + <td> + LITERARY PROJECTS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0086"> LXXXI. </a> + </td> + <td> + SOME FURTHER LITERARY MATTERS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0087"> LXXXII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE WRITING OF “ROUGHING IT” + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0088"> LXXXIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + LECTURING DAYS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0089"> LXXXIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + "ROUGHING IT”. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0090"> LXXXV. </a> + </td> + <td> + A BIRTH, A DEATH, AND A VOYAGE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0091"> LXXXVI. </a> + </td> + <td> + ENGLAND + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0092"> LXXXVII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE BOOK THAT WAS NEVER WRITTEN + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0093"> LXXXVIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + "THE GILDED AGE” + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0094"> LXXXIX. </a> + </td> + <td> + PLANNING A NEW HOME + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0095"> XC. </a> + </td> + <td> + A LONG ENGLISH HOLIDAY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0096"> XCI. </a> + </td> + <td> + A LONDON LECTURE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0097"> XCII. </a> + </td> + <td> + FURTHER LONDON LECTURE TRIUMPHS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0098"> XCIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE REAL COLONEL SELLERS-GOLDEN DAYS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0099"> XCIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + BEGINNING “TOM SAWYER” + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0100"> XCV. </a> + </td> + <td> + AN “ATLANTIC” STORY AND A PLAY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0101"> XCVI. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE NEW HOME + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0102"> XCVII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE WALK TO BOSTON + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0103"> XCVIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + "OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI” + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0104"> XCIX. </a> + </td> + <td> + A TYPEWRITER, AND A JOKE ON ALDRICH + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0105"> C. </a> + </td> + <td> + RAYMOND, MENTAL TELEGRAPHY, ETC. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0106"> CI. </a> + </td> + <td> + CONCLUDING “TOM SAWYER”—MARK TWAIN's “EDITORS” + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0107"> CII. </a> + </td> + <td> + "SKETCHES NEW AND OLD” + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0108"> CIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + "ATLANTIC” DAYS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0109"> CIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + MARK TWAIN AND HIS WIFE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td></td> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0110"> <b>VOLUME II, Part 1: 1875-1886</b> </a> + </td> + <td> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0111"> CV. </a> + </td> + <td> + MARK TWAIN AT FORTY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0112"> CVI. </a> + </td> + <td> + HIS FIRST STAGE APPEARANCE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0113"> CVII. </a> + </td> + <td> + HOWELLS, CLEMENS, AND “GEORGE” + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0114"> CVIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + SUMMER LABORS AT QUARRY FARM + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0115"> CIX. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE PUBLIC APPEARANCE OF “TOM SAWYER” + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0116"> CX. </a> + </td> + <td> + MARK TWAIN AND BRET HARTE WRITE A PLAY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0117"> CXI. </a> + </td> + <td> + A BERMUDA HOLIDAY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0118"> CXII. </a> + </td> + <td> + A NEW PLAY AND A NEW TALE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0119"> CXIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + TWO DOMESTIC DRAMAS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0120"> CXIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE WHITTIER BIRTHDAY SPEECH + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0121"> CXV. </a> + </td> + <td> + HARTFORD AND BILLIARDS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0122"> CXVI. </a> + </td> + <td> + OFF FOR GERMANY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0123"> CXVII. </a> + </td> + <td> + GERMANY AND GERMAN + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0124"> CXVIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + TRAMPING WITH TWICHELL. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0125"> CXIX. </a> + </td> + <td> + ITALIAN DAYS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0126"> CXX. </a> + </td> + <td> + IN MUNICH + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0127"> CXXI. </a> + </td> + <td> + PARIS, ENGLAND, AND HOMEWARD BOUND + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0128"> CXXII. </a> + </td> + <td> + AN INTERLUDE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0129"> CXXIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE GRANT SPEECH OF 1879 + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0130"> CXXIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + ANOTHER “ATLANTIC” SPEECH + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0131"> CXXV. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE QUIETER THINGS OF HOME + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0132"> CXXVI. </a> + </td> + <td> + "A TRAMP ABROAD” + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0133"> CXXVII. </a> + </td> + <td> + LETTERS, TALES, AND PLANS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0134"> CXXVIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + MARK TWAIN's ABSENT-MINDEDNESS. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0135"> CXXIX. </a> + </td> + <td> + FURTHER AFFAIRS AT THE FARM + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0136"> CXXX. </a> + </td> + <td> + COPYRIGHT AND OTHER FANCIES + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0137"> CXXXI. </a> + </td> + <td> + WORKING FOR GARFIELD + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0138"> CXXXII. </a> + </td> + <td> + A NEW PUBLISHER + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0139"> CXXXIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE THREE FIRES—SOME BENEFACTIONS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0140"> CXXXIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + LITERARY PROJECTS AND A MONUMENT TO ADAM + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0141"> CXXXV. </a> + </td> + <td> + A TRIP WITH SHERMAN AND AN INTERVIEW WITH GRANT. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0142"> CXXXVI. </a> + </td> + <td> + "THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER” + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0143"> CXXXVII. </a> + </td> + <td> + CERTAIN ATTACKS AND REPRISALS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0144"> CXXXVIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + MANY UNDERTAKINGS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0145"> CXXXIX. </a> + </td> + <td> + FINANCIAL AND LITERARY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0146"> CXL. </a> + </td> + <td> + DOWN THE RIVER + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0147"> CXLI. </a> + </td> + <td> + LITERATURE AND PHILOSOPHY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0148"> CXLII. </a> + </td> + <td> + "LIFE ON THE MISSISSIPPI” + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0149"> CXLIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + A GUEST OF ROYALTY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0150"> CXLIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + A SUMMER LITERARY HARVEST + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0151"> CXLV. </a> + </td> + <td> + HOWELLS AND CLEMENS WRITE A PLAY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0152"> CXLVI. </a> + </td> + <td> + DISTINGUISHED VISITORS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0153"> CXLVII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE FORTUNES OF A PLAY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0154"> CXLVIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + CABLE AND HIS GREAT JOKE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0155"> CXLIX. </a> + </td> + <td> + MARK TWAIN IN BUSINESS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0156"> CL. </a> + </td> + <td> + FARM PICTURES + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0157"> CLI. </a> + </td> + <td> + MARK TWAIN MUGWUMPS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0158"> CLII. </a> + </td> + <td> + PLATFORMING WITH CABLE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0159"> CLIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + HUCK FINN COMES INTO HIS OWN + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0160"> CLIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE MEMOIRS OF GENERAL GRANT + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0161"> CLV. </a> + </td> + <td> + DAYS WITH A DYING HERO + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0162"> CLVI. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE CLOSE OF A GREAT CAREER + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0163"> CLVII. </a> + </td> + <td> + MINOR MATTERS OF A GREAT YEAR + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0164"> CLVIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + MARK TWAIN AT FIFTY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0165"> CLIX. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE LIFE OF THE POPE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0166"> CLX. </a> + </td> + <td> + A GREAT PUBLISHER AT HOME + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0167"> CLXI. </a> + </td> + <td> + HISTORY: MAINLY BY SUSY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td></td> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0168"> <b>VOLUME II, Part 2: 1886-1900</b> </a> + </td> + <td> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0169"> CLXII. </a> + </td> + <td> + BROWNING, MEREDITH, AND MEISTERSCHAFT + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0170"> CLXIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + LETTER TO THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0171"> CLXIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + SOME FURTHER ACCOUNT OF CHARLES L WEBSTER & CO. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0172"> CLXV. </a> + </td> + <td> + LETTERS, VISITS, AND VISITORS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0173"> CLVXVI. </a> + </td> + <td> + A “PLAYER” AND A MASTER OF ARTS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0174"> CLXVII. </a> + </td> + <td> + NOTES AND LITERARY MATTERS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0175"> CLXVIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + INTRODUCING NYE AND RILEY AND OTHERS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0176"> CLXIX. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE COMING OF KIPLING + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0177"> CLXX. </a> + </td> + <td> + "THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER” ON THE STAGE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0178"> CLXXI. </a> + </td> + <td> + "A CONNECTICUT YANKEE IN KING ARTHUR'S COURT” + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0179"> CLXXII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE “YANKEE” IN ENGLAND + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0180"> CLXXIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + A SUMMER AT ONTEORA + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0181"> CLXXIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE MACHINE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0182"> CLXXV. </a> + </td> + <td> + "THE CLAIMANT”—LEAVING HARTFORD + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0183"> CLXXVI. </a> + </td> + <td> + A EUROPEAN SUMMER + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0184"> CLXXVII. </a> + </td> + <td> + KORNERSTRASSE,7 + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0185"> CLXXVIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + A WINTER IN BERLIN + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0186"> CLXXIX. </a> + </td> + <td> + A DINNER WITH WILLIAM II. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0187"> CLXXX. </a> + </td> + <td> + MANY WANDERINGS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0188"> CLXXXI. </a> + </td> + <td> + NAUHEIM AND THE PRINCE OF WALES + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0189"> CLXXXII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE VILLA VIVIANI. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0190"> CLXXXIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE SIEUR DE CONTE AND JOAN + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0191"> CLXXXIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + NEW HOPE IN THE MACHINE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0192"> CLXXXV. </a> + </td> + <td> + AN INTRODUCTION TO H. RODGERS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0193"> CLXXXVI. </a> + </td> + <td> + "THE BELLE OF NEW YORK” + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0194"> CLXXXVII. </a> + </td> + <td> + SOME LITERARY MATTERS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0195"> CLXXXVIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + FAILURE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0196"> CLXXXIX. </a> + </td> + <td> + AN EVENTFUL YEAR ENDS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0197"> CXC. </a> + </td> + <td> + STARTING ON THE LONG TRAIL. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0198"> CXCI. </a> + </td> + <td> + CLEMENS ILL IN ELMIRA WITH A DISTRESSING CARBUNCLE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0199"> CXCII. </a> + </td> + <td> + "FOLLOWING THE EQUATOR” + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0200"> CXCIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE PASSING OF SUSY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0201"> CXCIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + WINTER IN TEDWORTH SQUARE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0203"> CXCV. </a> + </td> + <td> + "PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS OF JOAN OF ARC”. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0204"> CXCVI. </a> + </td> + <td> + MR. ROGERS AND HELEN KELLER + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0205"> CXCVII. </a> + </td> + <td> + FINISHING THE BOOK OF TRAVEL. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0206"> CXCVIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + A SUMMER IN SWITZERLAND + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0207"> CXCIX. </a> + </td> + <td> + WINTER IN VIENNA + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0208"> CC. </a> + </td> + <td> + MARK TWAIN PAYS HIS DEBTS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0209"> CCI. </a> + </td> + <td> + SOCIAL LIFE IN VIENNA + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0210"> CCII. </a> + </td> + <td> + LITERARY WORK IN VIENNA + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0211"> CCIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + AN IMPERIAL TRAGEDY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0212"> CCIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE SECOND WINTER IN VIENNA + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0213"> CCV. </a> + </td> + <td> + SPEECHES THAT WERE NOT MADE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0214"> CCVI. </a> + </td> + <td> + A SUMMER IN SWEDEN + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0215"> CCVII. </a> + </td> + <td> + 30, WELLINGTON COURT + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0216"> CCVIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + MARK TWAIN AND THE WARS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0217"> CCIX. </a> + </td> + <td> + PLASMON, AND A NEW MAGAZINE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0218"> CCX. </a> + </td> + <td> + LONDON SOCIAL AFFAIRS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0219"> CCXI. </a> + </td> + <td> + DOLLIS HILL AND HOME + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td></td> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0220"> <b>VOLUME III, Part 1: 1900-1907</b> </a> + </td> + <td> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0221"> CCXII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE RETURN OF THE CONQUEROR + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0222"> CCXIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + MARK TWAIN—GENERAL SPOKESMAN + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0223"> CCXIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + MARK TWAIN AND THE MISSIONARIES + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0224"> CCXV. </a> + </td> + <td> + SUMMER AT “THE LAIR” + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0225"> CCXVI. </a> + </td> + <td> + RIVERDALE—A YALE DEGREE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0226"> CCXVII. </a> + </td> + <td> + MARK TWAIN IN POLITICS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0227"> CCXVIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + NEW INTERESTS AND INVESTMENTS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0228"> CCXIX. </a> + </td> + <td> + YACHTING AND THEOLOGY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0229"> CCXX. </a> + </td> + <td> + MARK TWAIN AND THE PHILIPPINES + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0230"> CCXXI. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE RETURN OF THE NATIVE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0231"> CCXXII. </a> + </td> + <td> + A PROPHET HONORED IN HIS COUNTRY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0232"> CCXXIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + AT YORK HARBOR + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0233"> CCXXIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE SIXTY-SEVENTH BIRTHDAY DINNER + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0234"> CCXXV. </a> + </td> + <td> + CHRISTIAN SCIENCE CONTROVERSIES + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0235"> CCXXVI. </a> + </td> + <td> + "WAS IT HEAVEN? OR HELL?” + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0236"> CCXXVII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE SECOND RIVERDALE WINTER + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0237"> CCXXVIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + PROFFERED HONORS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0238"> CCXXXIX. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE LAST SUMMER AT ELMIRA + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0239"> CCXXX. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE RETURN TO FLORENCE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0240"> CCXXXI. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE CLOSE OF A BEAUTIFUL LIFE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0241"> CCXXXII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE SAD JOURNEY HOME + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0242"> CCXXXIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + BEGINNING ANOTHER HOME + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0243"> CCXXXIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + LIFE AT 21 FIFTH AVENUE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0244"> CCXXXV. </a> + </td> + <td> + A SUMMER IN NEW HAMPSHIRE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0245"> CCXXXVI. </a> + </td> + <td> + AT PIER 70 + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0246"> CCXXXVII. </a> + </td> + <td> + AFTERMATH + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0247"> CCXXXVIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE WRITER MEETS MARK TWAIN + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0248"> CCXXXIX. </a> + </td> + <td> + WORKING WITH MARK TWAIN + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0249"> CCXL. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE DEFINITION OF A GENTLEMAN + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0250"> CCXLI. </a> + </td> + <td> + GORKY, HOWELLS, AND MARK TWAIN + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0251"> CCXLII. </a> + </td> + <td> + MARK TWAIN'S GOOD-BY TO THE PLATFORM + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0252"> CCXLIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + AN INVESTMENT IN REDDING + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0253"> CCXLIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + TRAITS AND PHILOSOPHIES + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0254"> CCXLV. </a> + </td> + <td> + IN THE DAY'S ROUND + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0255"> CCXLVI. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE SECOND SUMMER AT DUBLIN + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0256"> CCXLVI. </a> + </td> + <td> + DUBLIN, CONTINUED + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0257"> CCXLVIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + "WHAT IS MAN?” AND THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0258"> CCXLIX. </a> + </td> + <td> + BILLIARDS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0259"> CCL. </a> + </td> + <td> + PHILOSOPHY AND PESSIMISM + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0260"> CCLI. </a> + </td> + <td> + A LOBBYING EXPEDITION + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0261"> CCLII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THEOLOGY AND EVOLUTION + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0262"> CCLIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + AN EVENING WITH HELEN KELLER + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0263"> CCLIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + BILLIARD-ROOM NOTES + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0264"> CCLV. </a> + </td> + <td> + FURTHER PERSONALITIES + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td></td> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0265"> <b>VOLUME III, Part 2: 1907-1910</b></a> + </td> + <td> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0266"> CCLVI. </a> + </td> + <td> + HONORS FROM OXFORD + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0267"> CCLVII. </a> + </td> + <td> + A TRUE ENGLISH WELCOME + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0268"> CCLVIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + DOCTOR OF LITERATURE, OXFORD + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0269"> CCLIX. </a> + </td> + <td> + LONDON SOCIAL HONORS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0270"> CCLX. </a> + </td> + <td> + MATTERS PSYCHIC AND OTHERWISE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0271"> CCLXI. </a> + </td> + <td> + MINOR EVENTS AND DIVERSIONS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0272"> CCLXII. </a> + </td> + <td> + FROM MARK TWAIN's MAIL. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0273"> CCLXIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + SOME LITERARY LUNCHEONS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0274"> CCLXIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + "CAPTAIN STORMFIELD” IN PRINT + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0275"> CCLXV. </a> + </td> + <td> + LOTOS CLUB HONORS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0276"> CCLXVI. </a> + </td> + <td> + A WINTER IN BERMUDA + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0277"> CCLXVII. </a> + </td> + <td> + VIEWS AND ADDRESSES + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0278"> CCLXVIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + REDDING + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0279"> CCLXIX. </a> + </td> + <td> + FIRST DAYS AT STORMFIELD + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0280"> CCLXX. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE ALDRICH MEMORIAL. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0281"> CCLXXI. </a> + </td> + <td> + DEATH OF “SAM” MOFFETT + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0282"> CCLXXII. </a> + </td> + <td> + STORMFIELD ADVENTURES + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0283"> CCLXXIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + STORMFIELD PHILOSOPHIES + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0284"> CCLXIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + CITIZEN AND FARMER + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0285"> CCLXV. </a> + </td> + <td> + A MANTEL AND A BABY ELEPHANT + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0286"> CCLXXVI. </a> + </td> + <td> + SHAKESPEARE-BACON TALK + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0287"> CCLXXVII. </a> + </td> + <td> + "IS SHAKESPEARE DEAD?” + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0288"> CCLXXVIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE DEATH OF HENRY ROGERS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0289"> CCLXXIX. </a> + </td> + <td> + AN EXTENSION OF COPYRIGHT + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0290"> CCLXXX. </a> + </td> + <td> + A WARNING + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0291"> CCLXXXI. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE LAST SUMMER AT STORMFIELD + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0292"> CCLXXXII. </a> + </td> + <td> + PERSONAL MEMORANDA + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0293"> CCLXXXIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + ASTRONOMY AND DREAMS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0294"> CCLXXXIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + A LIBRARY CONCERT + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0295"> CCLXXXV. </a> + </td> + <td> + A WEDDING AT STORMFIELD + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0296"> CCLXXXVI. </a> + </td> + <td> + AUTUMN DAYS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0297"> CCLXXVII. </a> + </td> + <td> + MARK TWAIN'S READING + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0298"> CCLXXXVIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + A BERMUDA BIRTHDAY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0299"> CCLXXXIX. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE DEATH OF JEAN + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0300"> CCXC. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE RETURN TO BERMUDA + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0301"> CCXCI. </a> + </td> + <td> + LETTERS FROM BERMUDA + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0302"> CCXCII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE VOYAGE HOME + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0303"> CCXCIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE RETURN TO THE INVISIBLE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0304"> CCXCIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE LAST RITES + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0305"> CCXCV. </a> + </td> + <td> + MARK TWAIN'S RELIGION + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0306"> CCXCVI. </a> + </td> + <td> + POSTSCRIPT + </td> + </tr> + +<tr> + <td> + <a href="#appendices"> APPENDICES. </a> + </td> + + </tr> + + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + VOLUME I. Part 1: 1835-1866 + </h2> + <p> + TO CLARA CLEMENS GABRILOWITSCH WHO STEADILY UPHELD THE AUTHOR'S PURPOSE TO + WRITE HISTORY RATHER THAN EULOGY AS THE STORY OF HER FATHER'S LIFE + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + AN ACKNOWLEDGMENT + </h2> + <p> + Dear William Dean Howells, Joseph Hopkins Twichell, Joseph T. Goodman, and + other old friends of Mark Twain: + </p> + <p> + I cannot let these volumes go to press without some grateful word to you + who have helped me during the six years and more that have gone to their + making. + </p> + <p> + First, I want to confess how I have envied you your association with Mark + Twain in those days when you and he “went gipsying, a long time ago.” + Next, I want to express my wonder at your willingness to give me so + unstintedly from your precious letters and memories, when it is in the + nature of man to hoard such treasures, for himself and for those who + follow him. And, lastly, I want to tell you that I do not envy you so + much, any more, for in these chapters, one after another, through your + grace, I have gone gipsying with you all. Neither do I wonder now, for I + have come to know that out of your love for him grew that greater + unselfishness (or divine selfishness, as he himself might have termed it), + and that nothing short of the fullest you could do for his memory would + have contented your hearts. + </p> + <p> + My gratitude is measureless; and it is world-wide, for there is no land so + distant that it does not contain some one who has eagerly contributed to + the story. Only, I seem so poorly able to put my thanks into words. + </p> + <p> + Albert Bigelow Paine. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PREFATORY NOTE + </h2> + <p> + Certain happenings as recorded in this work will be found to differ + materially from the same incidents and episodes as set down in the + writings of Mr. Clemens himself. Mark Twain's spirit was built of the very + fabric of truth, so far as moral intent was concerned, but in his earlier + autobiographical writings—and most of his earlier writings were + autobiographical—he made no real pretense to accuracy of time, + place, or circumstance—seeking, as he said, “only to tell a + good story”—while in later years an ever-vivid imagination and + a capricious memory made history difficult, even when, as in his so-called + “Autobiography,” his effort was in the direction of fact. + </p> + <p> + “When I was younger I could remember anything, whether it happened + or not,” he once said, quaintly, “but I am getting old, and + soon I shall remember only the latter.” + </p> + <p> + The reader may be assured, where discrepancies occur, that the writer of + this memoir has obtained his data from direct and positive sources: + letters, diaries, account-books, or other immediate memoranda; also from + the concurring testimony of eye-witnesses, supported by a unity of + circumstance and conditions, and not from hearsay or vagrant printed + items. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MARK TWAIN—A BIOGRAPHY + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I. ANCESTORS + </h2> + <p> + On page 492 of the old volume of Suetonius, which Mark Twain read until + his very last day, there is a reference to one Flavius Clemens, a man of + wide repute “for his want of energy,” and in a marginal note + he has written: + </p> + <p> + “I guess this is where our line starts.” + </p> + <p> + It was like him to write that. It spoke in his whimsical fashion the + attitude of humility, the ready acknowledgment of shortcoming, which was + his chief characteristic and made him lovable—in his personality and + in his work. + </p> + <p> + Historically, we need not accept this identity of the Clemens ancestry. + The name itself has a kindly meaning, and was not an uncommon one in Rome. + There was an early pope by that name, and it appears now and again in the + annals of the Middle Ages. More lately there was a Gregory Clemens, an + English landowner who became a member of Parliament under Cromwell and + signed the death-warrant of Charles I. Afterward he was tried as a + regicide, his estates were confiscated, and his head was exposed on a pole + on the top of Westminster Hall. + </p> + <p> + Tradition says that the family of Gregory Clemens did not remain in + England, but emigrated to Virginia (or New Jersey), and from them, in + direct line, descended the Virginia Clemenses, including John Marshall + Clemens, the father of Mark Twain. Perhaps the line could be traced, and + its various steps identified, but, after all, an ancestor more or less + need not matter when it is the story of a descendant that is to be + written. + </p> + <p> + Of Mark Twain's immediate forebears, however, there is something to be + said. His paternal grandfather, whose name also was Samuel, was a man of + culture and literary taste. In 1797 he married a Virginia girl, Pamela + Goggin; and of their five children John Marshall Clemens, born August 11, + 1798, was the eldest—becoming male head of the family at the age of + seven, when his father was accidentally killed at a house-raising. The + family was not a poor one, but the boy grew up with a taste for work. As a + youth he became a clerk in an iron manufactory, at Lynchburg, and + doubtless studied at night. At all events, he acquired an education, but + injured his health in the mean time, and somewhat later, with his mother + and the younger children, removed to Adair County, Kentucky, where the + widow presently married a sweetheart of her girlhood, one Simon Hancock, a + good man. In due course, John Clemens was sent to Columbia, the + countyseat, to study law. When the living heirs became of age he + administered his father's estate, receiving as his own share three negro + slaves; also a mahogany sideboard, which remains among the Clemens effects + to this day. + </p> + <p> + This was in 1821. John Clemens was now a young man of twenty-three, never + very robust, but with a good profession, plenty of resolution, and a heart + full of hope and dreams. Sober, industrious, and unswervingly upright, it + seemed certain that he must make his mark. That he was likely to be + somewhat too optimistic, even visionary, was not then regarded as a + misfortune. + </p> + <p> + It was two years later that he met Jane Lampton; whose mother was a Casey—a + Montgomery-Casey whose father was of the Lamptons (Lambtons) of Durham, + England, and who on her own account was reputed to be the handsomest girl + and the wittiest, as well as the best dancer, in all Kentucky. The + Montgomeries and the Caseys of Kentucky had been Indian fighters in the + Daniel Boone period, and grandmother Casey, who had been Jane Montgomery, + had worn moccasins in her girlhood, and once saved her life by jumping a + fence and out-running a redskin pursuer. The Montgomery and Casey annals + were full of blood-curdling adventures, and there is to-day a Casey County + next to Adair, with a Montgomery County somewhat farther east. As for the + Lamptons, there is an earldom in the English family, and there were + claimants even then in the American branch. All these things were worth + while in Kentucky, but it was rare Jane Lampton herself—gay, + buoyant, celebrated for her beauty and her grace; able to dance all night, + and all day too, for that matter—that won the heart of John Marshall + Clemens, swept him off his feet almost at the moment of their meeting. + Many of the characteristics that made Mark Twain famous were inherited + from his mother. His sense of humor, his prompt, quaintly spoken + philosophy, these were distinctly her contribution to his fame. Speaking + of her in a later day, he once said: + </p> + <p> + “She had a sort of ability which is rare in man and hardly existent + in woman—the ability to say a humorous thing with the perfect air of + not knowing it to be humorous.” + </p> + <p> + She bequeathed him this, without doubt; also her delicate complexion; her + wonderful wealth of hair; her small, shapely hands and feet, and the + pleasant drawling speech which gave her wit, and his, a serene and perfect + setting. + </p> + <p> + It was a one-sided love affair, the brief courtship of Jane Lampton and + John Marshall Clemens. All her life, Jane Clemens honored her husband, and + while he lived served him loyally; but the choice of her heart had been a + young physician of Lexington with whom she had quarreled, and her prompt + engagement with John Clemens was a matter of temper rather than + tenderness. She stipulated that the wedding take place at once, and on May + 6, 1823, they were married. She was then twenty; her husband twenty-five. + More than sixty years later, when John Clemens had long been dead, she + took a railway journey to a city where there was an Old Settlers' + Convention, because among the names of those attending she had noticed the + name of the lover of her youth. She meant to humble herself to him and ask + forgiveness after all the years. She arrived too late; the convention was + over, and he was gone. Mark Twain once spoke of this, and added: + </p> + <p> + “It is as pathetic a romance as any that has crossed the field of my + personal experience in a long lifetime.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. THE FORTUNES OF JOHN AND JANE CLEMENS + </h2> + <p> + With all his ability and industry, and with the-best of intentions, John + Clemens would seem to have had an unerring faculty for making business + mistakes. It was his optimistic outlook, no doubt—his absolute + confidence in the prosperity that lay just ahead—which led him from + one unfortunate locality or enterprise to another, as long as he lived. + About a year after his marriage he settled with his young wife in + Gainsborough, Tennessee, a mountain town on the Cumberland River, and + here, in 1825, their first child, a boy, was born. They named him Orion—after + the constellation, perhaps—though they changed the accent to the + first syllable, calling it Orion. Gainsborough was a small place with few + enough law cases; but it could hardly have been as small, or furnished as + few cases; as the next one selected, which was Jamestown, Fentress County, + still farther toward the Eastward Mountains. Yet Jamestown had the + advantage of being brand new, and in the eye of his fancy John Clemens + doubtless saw it the future metropolis of east Tennessee, with himself its + foremost jurist and citizen. He took an immediate and active interest in + the development of the place, established the county-seat there, built the + first Court House, and was promptly elected as circuit clerk of the court. + </p> + <p> + It was then that he decided to lay the foundation of a fortune for himself + and his children by acquiring Fentress County land. Grants could be + obtained in those days at the expense of less than a cent an acre, and + John Clemens believed that the years lay not far distant when the land + would increase in value ten thousand, twenty, perhaps even a hundred + thousandfold. There was no wrong estimate in that. Land covered with the + finest primeval timber, and filled with precious minerals, could hardly + fail to become worth millions, even though his entire purchase of 75,000 + acres probably did not cost him more than $500. The great tract lay about + twenty nines to the southward of Jamestown. Standing in the door of the + Court House he had built, looking out over the “Knob” of the + Cumberland Mountains toward his vast possessions, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Whatever befalls me now, my heirs are secure. I may not live to see + these acres turn into silver and gold, but my children will.” + </p> + <p> + Such was the creation of that mirage of wealth, the “Tennessee land,” + which all his days and for long afterward would lie just ahead—a + golden vision, its name the single watchword of the family fortunes—the + dream fading with years, only materializing at last as a theme in a story + of phantom riches, The Gilded Age. + </p> + <p> + Yet for once John Clemens saw clearly, and if his dream did not come true + he was in no wise to blame. The land is priceless now, and a corporation + of the Clemens heirs is to-day contesting the title of a thin fragment of + it—about one thousand acres—overlooked in some survey. + </p> + <p> + Believing the future provided for, Clemens turned his attention to present + needs. He built himself a house, unusual in its style and elegance. It had + two windows in each room, and its walls were covered with plastering, + something which no one in Jamestown had ever seen before. He was regarded + as an aristocrat. He wore a swallow-tail coat of fine blue jeans, instead + of the coarse brown native-made cloth. The blue-jeans coat was ornamented + with brass buttons and cost one dollar and twenty-five cents a yard, a + high price for that locality and time. His wife wore a calico dress for + company, while the neighbor wives wore homespun linsey-woolsey. The new + house was referred to as the Crystal Palace. When John and Jane Clemens + attended balls—there were continuous balls during the holidays—they + were considered the most graceful dancers. + </p> + <p> + Jamestown did not become the metropolis he had dreamed. It attained almost + immediately to a growth of twenty-five houses—mainly log houses—and + stopped there. The country, too, was sparsely settled; law practice was + slender and unprofitable, the circuit-riding from court to court was very + bad for one of his physique. John Clemens saw his reserve of health and + funds dwindling, and decided to embark in merchandise. He built himself a + store and put in a small country stock of goods. These he exchanged for + ginseng, chestnuts, lampblack, turpentine, rosin, and other produce of the + country, which he took to Louisville every spring and fall in six-horse + wagons. In the mean time he would seem to have sold one or more of his + slaves, doubtless to provide capital. There was a second baby now—a + little girl, Pamela,—born in September, 1827. Three years later, May + 1830, another little girl, Margaret, came. By this time the store and home + were in one building, the store occupying one room, the household + requiring two—clearly the family fortunes were declining. + </p> + <p> + About a year after little Margaret was born, John Clemens gave up + Jamestown and moved his family and stock of goods to a point nine miles + distant, known as the Three Forks of Wolf. The Tennessee land was safe, of + course, and would be worth millions some day, but in the mean time the + struggle for daily substance was becoming hard. + </p> + <p> + He could not have remained at the Three Forks long, for in 1832 we find + him at still another place, on the right bank of Wolf River, where a + post-office called Pall Mall was established, with John Clemens as + postmaster, usually addressed as “Squire” or “Judge.” + A store was run in connection with the postoffice. At Pall Mall, in June, + 1832, another boy, Benjamin, was born. + </p> + <p> + The family at this time occupied a log house built by John Clemens + himself, the store being kept in another log house on the opposite bank of + the river. He no longer practised law. In The Gilded Age we have Mark + Twain's picture of Squire Hawkins and Obedstown, written from descriptions + supplied in later years by his mother and his brother Orion; and, while + not exact in detail, it is not regarded as an exaggerated presentation of + east Tennessee conditions at that time. The chapter is too long and too + depressing to be set down here. The reader may look it up for himself, if + he chooses. If he does he will not wonder that Jane Clemens's handsome + features had become somewhat sharper, and her manner a shade graver, with + the years and burdens of marriage, or that John Clemens at thirty-six-out + of health, out of tune with his environment—was rapidly getting out + of heart. After all the bright promise of the beginning, things had + somehow gone wrong, and hope seemed dwindling away. + </p> + <p> + A tall man, he had become thin and unusually pale; he looked older than + his years. Every spring he was prostrated with what was called “sunpain,” + an acute form of headache, nerve-racking and destroying to all persistent + effort. Yet he did not retreat from his moral and intellectual standards, + or lose the respect of that shiftless community. He was never intimidated + by the rougher element, and his eyes were of a kind that would disconcert + nine men out of ten. Gray and deep-set under bushy brows, they literally + looked you through. Absolutely fearless, he permitted none to trample on + his rights. It is told of John Clemens, at Jamestown, that once when he + had lost a cow he handed the minister on Sunday morning a notice of the + loss to be read from the pulpit, according to the custom of that + community. For some reason, the minister put the document aside and + neglected it. At the close of the service Clemens rose and, going to the + pulpit, read his announcement himself to the congregation. Those who knew + Mark Twain best will not fail to recall in him certain of his father's + legacies. + </p> + <p> + The arrival of a letter from “Colonel Sellers” inviting the + Hawkins family to come to Missouri is told in The Gilded Age. In reality + the letter was from John Quarles, who had married Jane Clemens's sister, + Patsey Lampton, and settled in Florida, Monroe County, Missouri. It was a + momentous letter in The Gilded Age, and no less so in reality, for it + shifted the entire scene of the Clemens family fortunes, and it had to do + with the birthplace and the shaping of the career of one whose memory is + likely to last as long as American history. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III. A HUMBLE BIRTHPLACE + </h2> + <p> + Florida, Missouri, was a small village in the early thirties—smaller + than it is now, perhaps, though in that day it had more promise, even if + less celebrity. The West was unassembled then, undigested, comparatively + unknown. Two States, Louisiana and Missouri, with less than half a million + white persons, were all that lay beyond the great river. St. Louis, with + its boasted ten thousand inhabitants and its river trade with the South, + was the single metropolis in all that vast uncharted region. There was no + telegraph; there were no railroads, no stage lines of any consequence—scarcely + any maps. For all that one could see or guess, one place was as promising + as another, especially a settlement like Florida, located at the forks of + a pretty stream, Salt River, which those early settlers believed might one + day become navigable and carry the merchandise of that region down to the + mighty Mississippi, thence to the world outside. + </p> + <p> + In those days came John A. Quarles, of Kentucky, with his wife, who had + been Patsey Ann Lampton; also, later, Benjamin Lampton, her father, and + others of the Lampton race. It was natural that they should want Jane + Clemens and her husband to give up that disheartening east Tennessee + venture and join them in this new and promising land. It was natural, too, + for John Quarles—happy-hearted, generous, and optimistic—to + write the letter. There were only twenty-one houses in Florida, but + Quarles counted stables, out-buildings—everything with a roof on it—and + set down the number at fifty-four. + </p> + <p> + Florida, with its iridescent promise and negligible future, was just the + kind of a place that John Clemens with unerring instinct would be certain + to select, and the Quarles letter could have but one answer. Yet there + would be the longing for companionship, too, and Jane Clemens must have + hungered for her people. In The Gilded Age, the Sellers letter ends: + </p> + <p> + “Come!—rush!—hurry!—don't wait for anything!” + </p> + <p> + The Clemens family began immediately its preparation for getting away. The + store was sold, and the farm; the last two wagon-loads of produce were + sent to Louisville; and with the aid of the money realized, a few hundred + dollars, John Clemens and his family “flitted out into the great + mysterious blank that lay beyond the Knobs of Tennessee.” They had a + two-horse barouche, which would seem to have been preserved out of their + earlier fortunes. The barouche held the parents and the three younger + children, Pamela, Margaret, anal the little boy, Benjamin. There were also + two extra horses, which Orion, now ten, and Jennie, the house-girl, a + slave, rode. This was early in the spring of 1835. + </p> + <p> + They traveled by the way of their old home at Columbia, and paid a visit + to relatives. At Louisville they embarked on a steamer bound for St. + Louis; thence overland once more through wilderness and solitude into what + was then the Far West, the promised land. + </p> + <p> + They arrived one evening, and if Florida was not quite all in appearance + that John Clemens had dreamed, it was at least a haven—with John + Quarles, jovial, hospitable, and full of plans. The great Mississippi was + less than fifty miles away. Salt River, with a system of locks and dams, + would certainly become navigable to the Forks, with Florida as its head of + navigation. It was a Sellers fancy, though perhaps it should be said here + that John Quarles was not the chief original of that lovely character in + The Gilded Age. That was another relative—James Lampton, a cousin—quite + as lovable, and a builder of even more insubstantial dreams. + </p> + <p> + John Quarles was already established in merchandise in Florida, and was + prospering in a small way. He had also acquired a good farm, which he + worked with thirty slaves, and was probably the rich man and leading + citizen of the community. He offered John Clemens a partnership in his + store, and agreed to aid him in the selection of some land. Furthermore, + he encouraged him to renew his practice of the law. Thus far, at least, + the Florida venture was not a mistake, for, whatever came, matters could + not be worse than they had been in Tennessee. + </p> + <p> + In a small frame building near the center of the village, John and Jane + Clemens established their household. It was a humble one-story affair, + with two main rooms and a lean-to kitchen, though comfortable enough for + its size, and comparatively new. It is still standing and occupied when + these lines are written, and it should be preserved and guarded as a + shrine for the American people; for it was here that the foremost + American-born author—the man most characteristically American in + every thought and word and action of his life—drew his first + fluttering breath, caught blinkingly the light of a world that in the + years to come would rise up and in its wide realm of letters hail him as a + king. + </p> + <p> + It was on a bleak day, November 30, 1835, that he entered feebly the + domain he was to conquer. Long, afterward, one of those who knew him best + said: + </p> + <p> + “He always seemed to me like some great being from another planet—never + quite of this race or kind.” + </p> + <p> + He may have been, for a great comet was in the sky that year, and it would + return no more until the day when he should be borne back into the far + spaces of silence and undiscovered suns. But nobody thought of this, then. + </p> + <p> + He was a seven-months child, and there was no fanfare of welcome at his + coming. Perhaps it was even suggested that, in a house so small and so + sufficiently filled, there was no real need of his coming at all. One + Polly Ann Buchanan, who is said to have put the first garment of any sort + on him, lived to boast of the fact,—[This honor has been claimed + also for Mrs. Millie Upton and a Mrs. Damrell. Probably all were present + and assisted.]—but she had no particular pride in that matter then. + It was only a puny baby with a wavering promise of life. Still, John + Clemens must have regarded with favor this first gift of fortune in a new + land, for he named the little boy Samuel, after his father, and added the + name of an old and dear Virginia friend, Langhorne. The family fortunes + would seem to have been improving at this time, and he may have regarded + the arrival of another son as a good omen. + </p> + <p> + With a family of eight, now, including Jennie, the slavegirl, more room + was badly needed, and he began building without delay. The result was not + a mansion, by any means, being still of the one-story pattern, but it was + more commodious than the tiny two-room affair. The rooms were larger, and + there was at least one ell, or extension, for kitchen and dining-room + uses. This house, completed in 1836, occupied by the Clemens family during + the remainder of the years spent in Florida, was often in later days + pointed out as Mark Twain's birthplace. It missed that distinction by a + few months, though its honor was sufficient in having sheltered his early + childhood.—[This house is no longer standing. When it was torn down + several years ago, portions of it were carried off and manufactured into + souvenirs. Mark Twain himself disclaimed it as his birthplace, and once + wrote on a photograph of it: “No, it is too stylish, it is not my + birthplace.”] + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV. BEGINNING A LONG JOURNEY + </h2> + <p> + It was not a robust childhood. The new baby managed to go through the + winter—a matter of comment among the family and neighbors. Added + strength came, but slowly; “Little Sam,” as they called him, + was always delicate during those early years. + </p> + <p> + It was a curious childhood, full of weird, fantastic impressions and + contradictory influences, stimulating alike to the imagination and that + embryo philosophy of life which begins almost with infancy. John Clemens + seldom devoted any time to the company of his children. He looked after + their comfort and mental development as well as he could, and gave advice + on occasion. He bought a book now and then—sometimes a picture-book—and + subscribed for Peter Parley's Magazine, a marvel of delight to the older + children, but he did not join in their amusements, and he rarely, or + never, laughed. Mark Twain did not remember ever having seen or heard his + father laugh. The problem of supplying food was a somber one to John + Clemens; also, he was working on a perpetual-motion machine at this + period, which absorbed his spare time, and, to the inventor at least, was + not a mirthful occupation. Jane Clemens was busy, too. Her sense of humor + did not die, but with added cares and years her temper as well as her + features became sharper, and it was just as well to be fairly out of range + when she was busy with her employments. + </p> + <p> + Little Sam's companions were his brothers and sisters, all older than + himself: Orion, ten years his senior, followed by Pamela and Margaret at + intervals of two and three years, then by Benjamin, a kindly little lad + whose gentle life was chiefly devoted to looking after the baby brother, + three years his junior. But in addition to these associations, there were + the still more potent influences Of that day and section, the intimate, + enveloping institution of slavery, the daily companionship of the slaves. + All the children of that time were fond of the negroes and confided in + them. They would, in fact, have been lost without such protection and + company. + </p> + <p> + It was Jennie, the house-girl, and Uncle Ned, a man of all work—apparently + acquired with the improved prospects—who were in real charge of the + children and supplied them with entertainment. Wonderful entertainment it + was. That was a time of visions and dreams, small. gossip and + superstitions. Old tales were repeated over and over, with adornments and + improvements suggested by immediate events. At evening the Clemens + children, big and little, gathered about the great open fireplace while + Jennie and Uncle Ned told tales and hair-lifting legends. Even a baby of + two or three years could follow the drift of this primitive telling and + would shiver and cling close with the horror and delight of its curdling + thrill. The tales always began with “Once 'pon a time,” and + one of them was the story of the “Golden Arm” which the + smallest listener would one day repeat more elaborately to wider audiences + in many lands. Briefly it ran as follows: + </p> + <p> + “Once 'Pon a time there was a man, and he had a wife, and she had a' + arm of pure gold; and she died, and they buried her in the graveyard; and + one night her husband went and dug her up and cut off her golden arm and + tuck it home; and one night a ghost all in white come to him; and she was + his wife; and she says: + </p> + <p> + “W-h-a-r-r's my golden arm? W-h-a-r-r's my golden arm? W-h-a-r-r's + my g-o-l-den arm?” + </p> + <p> + As Uncle Ned repeated these blood-curdling questions he would look first + one and then another of his listeners in the eyes, with his bands drawn up + in front of his breast, his fingers turned out and crooked like claws, + while he bent with each question closer to the shrinking forms before him. + The tone was sepulchral, with awful pause as if waiting each time for a + reply. The culmination came with a pounce on one of the group, a shake of + the shoulders, and a shout of: + </p> + <p> + “YOU'VE got it!' and she tore him all to pieces!” + </p> + <p> + And the children would shout “Lordy!” and look furtively over + their shoulders, fearing to see a woman in white against the black wall; + but, instead, only gloomy, shapeless shadows darted across it as the + flickering flames in the fireplace went out on one brand and flared up on + another. Then there was a story of a great ball of fire that used to + follow lonely travelers along dark roads through the woods. + </p> + <p> + “Once 'pon a time there was a man, and he was riding along de road + and he come to a ha'nted house, and he heard de chains'a-rattlin' and + a-rattlin' and a-rattlin', and a ball of fire come rollin' up and got + under his stirrup, and it didn't make no difference if his horse galloped + or went slow or stood still, de ball of fire staid under his stirrup till + he got plum to de front do', and his wife come out and say: 'My Gord, + dat's devil fire!' and she had to work a witch spell to drive it away.” + </p> + <p> + “How big was it, Uncle Ned?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, 'bout as big as your head, and I 'spect it's likely to come + down dis yere chimney 'most any time.” + </p> + <p> + Certainly an atmosphere like this meant a tropic development for the + imagination of a delicate child. All the games and daily talk concerned + fanciful semi-African conditions and strange primal possibilities. The + children of that day believed in spells and charms and bad-luck signs, all + learned of their negro guardians. + </p> + <p> + But if the negroes were the chief companions and protectors of the + children, they were likewise one of their discomforts. The greatest real + dread children knew was the fear of meeting runaway slaves. A runaway + slave was regarded as worse than a wild beast, and treated worse when + caught. Once the children saw one brought into Florida by six men who took + him to an empty cabin, where they threw him on the floor and bound him + with ropes. His groans were loud and frequent. Such things made an + impression that would last a lifetime. + </p> + <p> + Slave punishment, too, was not unknown, even in the household. Jennie + especially was often saucy and obstreperous. Jane Clemens, with more + strength of character than of body, once undertook to punish her for + insolence, whereupon Jennie snatched the whip from her hand. John Clemens + was sent for in haste. He came at once, tied Jennie's wrists together with + a bridle rein, and administered chastisement across the shoulders with a + cowhide. These were things all calculated to impress a sensitive child. + </p> + <p> + In pleasant weather the children roamed over the country, hunting berries + and nuts, drinking sugar-water, tying knots in love-vine, picking the + petals from daisies to the formula “Love me-love me not,” + always accompanied by one or more, sometimes by half a dozen, of their + small darky followers. Shoes were taken off the first of April. For a time + a pair of old woolen stockings were worn, but these soon disappeared, + leaving the feet bare for the summer. One of their dreads was the + possibility of sticking a rusty nail into the foot, as this was liable to + cause lockjaw, a malady regarded with awe and terror. They knew what + lockjaw was—Uncle John Quarles's black man, Dan, was subject to it. + Sometimes when he opened his mouth to its utmost capacity he felt the + joints slip and was compelled to put down the cornbread, or jole and + greens, or the piece of 'possum he was eating, while his mouth remained a + fixed abyss until the doctor came and restored it to a natural position by + an exertion of muscular power that would have well-nigh lifted an ox. + </p> + <p> + Uncle John Quarles, his home, his farm, his slaves, all were sources of + never-ending delight. Perhaps the farm was just an ordinary Missouri farm + and the slaves just average negroes, but to those children these things + were never apparent. There was a halo about anything that belonged to + Uncle John Quarles, and that halo was the jovial, hilarious kindness of + that gentle-hearted, humane man. To visit at his house was for a child to + be in a heaven of mirth and pranks continually. When the children came for + eggs he would say: + </p> + <p> + “Your hens won't lay, eh? Tell your maw to feed 'em parched corn and + drive 'em uphill,” and this was always a splendid stroke of humor to + his small hearers. + </p> + <p> + Also, he knew how to mimic with his empty hands the peculiar patting and + tossing of a pone of corn-bread before placing it in the oven. He would + make the most fearful threats to his own children, for disobedience, but + never executed any of them. When they were out fishing and returned late + he would say: + </p> + <p> + “You—if I have to hunt you again after dark, I will make you + smell like a burnt horn!” + </p> + <p> + Nothing could exceed the ferocity of this threat, and all the children, + with delightful terror and curiosity, wondered what would happen—if + it ever did happen—that would result in giving a child that peculiar + savor. Altogether it was a curious early childhood that Little Sam had—at + least it seems so to us now. Doubtless it was commonplace enough for that + time and locality. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V. THE WAY OF FORTUNE + </h2> + <p> + Perhaps John Quarles's jocular, happy-go-lucky nature and general conduct + did not altogether harmonize with John Clemens's more taciturn business + methods. Notwithstanding the fact that he was a builder of dreams, Clemens + was neat and methodical, with his papers always in order. He had a hearty + dislike for anything resembling frivolity and confusion, which very likely + were the chief features of John Quarles's storekeeping. At all events, + they dissolved partnership at the end of two or three years, and Clemens + opened business for himself across the street. He also practised law + whenever there were cases, and was elected justice of the peace, acquiring + the permanent title of “Judge.” He needed some one to assist + in the store, and took in Orion, who was by this time twelve or thirteen + years old; but, besides his youth, Orion—all his days a visionary—was + a studious, pensive lad with no taste for commerce. Then a partnership was + formed with a man who developed neither capital nor business ability, and + proved a disaster in the end. The modest tide of success which had come + with John Clemens's establishment at Florida had begun to wane. Another + boy, Henry, born in July, 1838, added one more responsibility to his + burdens. + </p> + <p> + There still remained a promise of better things. There seemed at least a + good prospect that the scheme for making Salt River navigable was likely + to become operative. With even small boats (bateaux) running as high as + the lower branch of the South Fork, Florida would become an emporium of + trade, and merchants and property-owners of that village would reap a + harvest. An act of the Legislature was passed incorporating the navigation + company, with Judge Clemens as its president. Congress was petitioned to + aid this work of internal improvement. So confident was the company of + success that the hamlet was thrown into a fever of excitement by the + establishment of a boatyard and, the actual construction of a bateau; but + a Democratic Congress turned its back on the proposed improvement. No boat + bigger than a skiff ever ascended Salt River, though there was a wild + report, evidently a hoax, that a party of picnickers had seen one night a + ghostly steamer, loaded and manned, puffing up the stream. An old + Scotchman, Hugh Robinson, when he heard of it, said: + </p> + <p> + “I don't doubt a word they say. In Scotland, it often happens that + when people have been killed, or are troubled, they send their spirits + abroad and they are seen as much like themselves as a reflection in a + looking-glass. That was a ghost of some wrecked steamboat.” + </p> + <p> + But John Quarles, who was present, laughed: + </p> + <p> + “If ever anybody was in trouble, the men on that steamboat were,” + he said. “They were the Democratic candidates at the last election. + They killed Salt River improvements, and Salt River has killed them. Their + ghosts went up the river on a ghostly steamboat.” + </p> + <p> + It is possible that this comment, which was widely repeated and traveled + far, was the origin of the term “Going up Salt River,” as + applied to defeated political candidates.—[The dictionaries give + this phrase as probably traceable to a small, difficult stream in + Kentucky; but it seems more reasonable to believe that it originated in + Quarles's witty comment.] + </p> + <p> + No other attempt was ever made to establish navigation on Salt River. + Rumors of railroads already running in the East put an end to any such + thought. Railroads could run anywhere and were probably cheaper and easier + to maintain than the difficult navigation requiring locks and dams. Salt + River lost its prestige as a possible water highway and became mere + scenery. Railroads have ruined greater rivers than the Little Salt, and + greater villages than Florida, though neither Florida nor Salt River has + been touched by a railroad to this day. Perhaps such close detail of early + history may be thought unnecessary in a work of this kind, but all these + things were definite influences in the career of the little lad whom the + world would one day know as Mark Twain. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI. A NEW HOME + </h2> + <p> + The death of little Margaret was the final misfortune that came to the + Clemens family in Florida. Doubtless it hastened their departure. There + was a superstition in those days that to refer to health as good luck, + rather than to ascribe it to the kindness of Providence, was to bring + about a judgment. Jane Clemens one day spoke to a neighbor of their good + luck in thus far having lost no member of their family. That same day, + when the sisters, Pamela and Margaret, returned from school, Margaret laid + her books on the table, looked in the glass at her flushed cheeks, pulled + out the trundle-bed, and lay down. + </p> + <p> + She was never in her right mind again. The doctor was sent for and + diagnosed the case “bilious fever.” One evening, about nine + o'clock, Orion was sitting on the edge of the trundle-bed by the patient, + when the door opened and Little Sam, then about four years old, walked in + from his bedroom, fast asleep. He came to the side of the trundle-bed and + pulled at the bedding near Margaret's shoulder for some time before he + woke. Next day the little girl was “picking at the coverlet,” + and it was known that she could not live. About a week later she died. She + was nine years old, a beautiful child, plump in form, with rosy cheeks, + black hair, and bright eyes. This was in August, 1839. It was Little Sam's + first sight of death—the first break in the Clemens family: it left + a sad household. The shoemaker who lived next door claimed to have seen + several weeks previous, in a vision, the coffin and the funeral-procession + pass the gate by the winding road, to the cemetery, exactly as it + happened. + </p> + <p> + Matters were now going badly enough with John Clemens. Yet he never was + without one great comforting thought—the future of the Tennessee + land. It underlaid every plan; it was an anodyne for every ill. + </p> + <p> + “When we sell the Tennessee land everything will be all right,” + was the refrain that brought solace in the darkest hours. A blessing for + him that this was so, for he had little else to brighten his days. + Negotiations looking to the sale of the land were usually in progress. + When the pressure became very hard and finances were at their lowest ebb, + it was offered at any price—at five cents an acre, sometimes. When + conditions improved, however little, the price suddenly advanced even to + its maximum of one thousand dollars an acre. Now and then a genuine offer + came along, but, though eagerly welcomed at the moment, it was always + refused after a little consideration. + </p> + <p> + “We will struggle along somehow, Jane,” he would say. “We + will not throw away the children's fortune.” + </p> + <p> + There was one other who believed in the Tennessee land—Jane + Clemens's favorite cousin, James Lampton, the courtliest, gentlest, most + prodigal optimist of all that guileless race. To James Lampton the land + always had “millions in it”—everything had. He made + stupendous fortunes daily, in new ways. The bare mention of the Tennessee + land sent him off into figures that ended with the purchase of estates in + England adjoining those of the Durham Lamptons, whom he always referred to + as “our kindred,” casually mentioning the whereabouts and + health of the “present earl.” Mark Twain merely put James + Lampton on paper when he created Colonel Sellers, and the story of the + Hawkins family as told in The Gilded Age reflects clearly the struggle of + those days. The words “Tennessee land,” with their golden + promise, became his earliest remembered syllables. He grew to detest them + in time, for they came to mean mockery. + </p> + <p> + One of the offers received was the trifling sum of two hundred and fifty + dollars, and such was the moment's need that even this was considered. + Then, of course, it was scornfully refused. In some autobiographical + chapters which Orion Clemens left behind he said: + </p> + <p> + “If we had received that two hundred and fifty dollars, it would + have been more than we ever made, clear of expenses, out of the whole of + the Tennessee land, after forty years of worry to three generations.” + </p> + <p> + What a less speculative and more logical reasoner would have done in the + beginning, John Clemens did now; he selected a place which, though little + more than a village, was on a river already navigable—a steamboat + town with at least the beginnings of manufacturing and trade already + established—that is to say, Hannibal, Missouri—a point well + chosen, as shown by its prosperity to-day. + </p> + <p> + He did not delay matters. When he came to a decision, he acted quickly. He + disposed of a portion of his goods and shipped the remainder overland; + then, with his family and chattels loaded in a wagon, he was ready to set + out for the new home. Orion records that, for some reason, his father did + not invite him to get into the wagon, and how, being always sensitive to + slight, he had regarded this in the light of deliberate desertion. + </p> + <p> + “The sense of abandonment caused my heart to ache. The wagon had + gone a few feet when I was discovered and invited to enter. How I wished + they had not missed me until they had arrived at Hannibal. Then the world + would have seen how I was treated and would have cried 'Shame!'” + </p> + <p> + This incident, noted and remembered, long after became curiously confused + with another, in Mark Twain's mind. In an autobiographical chapter + published in The North American Review he tells of the move to Hannibal + and relates that he himself was left behind by his absentminded family. + The incident of his own abandonment did not happen then, but later, and + somewhat differently. It would indeed be an absent-minded family if the + parents, and the sister and brothers ranging up to fourteen years of age, + should drive off leaving Little Sam, age four, behind. —[As + mentioned in the Prefatory Note, Mark Twain's memory played him many + tricks in later life. Incidents were filtered through his vivid + imagination until many of them bore little relation to the actual + occurrence. Some of these lapses were only amusing, but occasionally they + worked an unintentional injustice. It is the author's purpose in every + instance, so far as is possible, to keep the record straight.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII. THE LITTLE TOWN OF HANNIBAL. + </h2> + <p> + Hannibal in 1839 was already a corporate community and had an atmosphere + of its own. It was a town with a distinct Southern flavor, though rather + more astir than the true Southern community of that period; more Western + in that it planned, though without excitement, certain new enterprises and + made a show, at least, of manufacturing. It was somnolent (a slave town + could not be less than that), but it was not wholly asleep—that is + to say, dead—and it was tranquilly content. Mark Twain remembered it + as “the white town drowsing in the sunshine of a summer morning,... + the great Mississippi, the magnificent Mississippi, rolling its mile-wide + tide along;... the dense forest away on the other side.” + </p> + <p> + The little city was proud of its scenery, and justly so: circled with + bluffs, with Holliday's Hill on the north, Lover's Leap on the south, the + shining river in the foreground, there was little to be desired in the way + of setting. + </p> + <p> + The river, of course, was the great highway. Rafts drifted by; steamboats + passed up and down and gave communication to the outside world; St. Louis, + the metropolis, was only one hundred miles away. Hannibal was inclined to + rank itself as of next importance, and took on airs accordingly. It had + society, too—all kinds—from the negroes and the town drunkards + (“General” Gaines and Jimmy Finn; later, Old Ben Blankenship) + up through several nondescript grades of mechanics and tradesmen to the + professional men of the community, who wore tall hats, ruffled + shirt-fronts, and swallow-tail coats, usually of some positive color-blue, + snuff-brown, and green. These and their families constituted the true + aristocracy of the Southern town. Most of them had pleasant homes—brick + or large frame mansions, with colonnaded entrances, after the manner of + all Southern architecture of that period, which had an undoubted Greek + root, because of certain drawing-books, it is said, accessible to the + builders of those days. Most of them, also, had means—slaves and + land which yielded an income in addition to their professional earnings. + They lived in such style as was considered fitting to their rank, and had + such comforts as were then obtainable. + </p> + <p> + It was to this grade of society that judge Clemens and his family + belonged, but his means no longer enabled him to provide either the + comforts or the ostentation of his class. He settled his family and + belongings in a portion of a house on Hill Street—the Pavey Hotel; + his merchandise he established modestly on Main Street, with Orion, in a + new suit of clothes, as clerk. Possibly the clothes gave Orion a renewed + ambition for mercantile life, but this waned. Business did not begin + actively, and he was presently dreaming and reading away the time. A + little later he became a printer's apprentice, in the office of the + Hannibal Journal, at his father's suggestion. + </p> + <p> + Orion Clemens perhaps deserves a special word here. He was to be much + associated with his more famous brother for many years, and his + personality as boy and man is worth at least a casual consideration. He + was fifteen now, and had developed characteristics which in a greater or + less degree were to go with him through life. Of a kindly, loving + disposition, like all of the Clemens children, quick of temper, but always + contrite, or forgiving, he was never without the fond regard of those who + knew him best. His weaknesses were manifold, but, on the whole, of a + negative kind. Honorable and truthful, he had no tendency to bad habits or + unworthy pursuits; indeed, he had no positive traits of any sort. That was + his chief misfortune. Full of whims and fancies, unstable, indeterminate, + he was swayed by every passing emotion and influence. Daily he laid out a + new course of study and achievement, only to fling it aside because of + some chance remark or printed paragraph or bit of advice that ran contrary + to his purpose. Such a life is bound to be a succession of extremes—alternate + periods of supreme exaltation and despair. In his autobiographical + chapters, already mentioned, Orion sets down every impulse and emotion and + failure with that faithful humility which won him always the respect, if + not always the approval, of men. + </p> + <p> + Printing was a step downward, for it was a trade, and Orion felt it + keenly. A gentleman's son and a prospective heir of the Tennessee land, he + was entitled to a profession. To him it was punishment, and the disgrace + weighed upon him. Then he remembered that Benjamin Franklin had been a + printer and had eaten only an apple and a bunch of grapes for his dinner. + Orion decided to emulate Franklin, and for a time he took only a biscuit + and a glass of water at a meal, foreseeing the day when he should + electrify the world with his eloquence. He was surprised to find how clear + his mind was on this low diet and how rapidly he learned his trade. + </p> + <p> + Of the other children Pamela, now twelve, and Benjamin, seven, were put to + school. They were pretty, attractive children, and Henry, the baby, was a + sturdy toddler, the pride of the household. Little Sam was the least + promising of the flock. He remained delicate, and developed little beyond + a tendency to pranks. He was a queer, fanciful, uncommunicative child that + detested indoors and would run away if not watched—always in the + direction of the river. He walked in his sleep, too, and often the rest of + the household got up in the middle of the night to find him fretting with + cold in some dark corner. The doctor was summoned for him oftener than was + good for the family purse—or for him, perhaps, if we may credit the + story of heavy dosings of those stern allopathic days. + </p> + <p> + Yet he would appear not to have been satisfied with his heritage of + ailments, and was ambitious for more. An epidemic of measles—the + black, deadly kind—was ravaging Hannibal, and he yearned for the + complaint. He yearned so much that when he heard of a playmate, one of the + Bowen boys, who had it, he ran away and, slipping into the house, crept + into bed with the infection. The success of this venture was complete. + Some days later, the Clemens family gathered tearfully around Little Sam's + bed to see him die. According to his own after-confession, this gratified + him, and he was willing to die for the glory of that touching scene. + However, he disappointed them, and was presently up and about in search of + fresh laurels.—[In later life Mr. Clemens did not recollect the + precise period of this illness. With habitual indifference he assigned it + to various years, as his mood or the exigencies of his theme required. + Without doubt the “measles” incident occurred when he was very + young.]—He must have been a wearing child, and we may believe that + Jane Clemens, with her varied cares and labors, did not always find him a + comfort. + </p> + <p> + “You gave me more uneasiness than any child I had,” she said + to him once, in her old age. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you were afraid I wouldn't live,” he suggested, in + his tranquil fashion. + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with that keen humor that had not dulled in eighty + years. “No; afraid you would,” she said. But that was only her + joke, for she was the most tenderhearted creature in the world, and, like + mothers in general, had a weakness for the child that demanded most of her + mother's care. + </p> + <p> + It was mainly on his account that she spent her summers on John Quarles's + farm near Florida, and it was during the first summer that an incident + already mentioned occurred. It was decided that the whole family should go + for a brief visit, and one Saturday morning in June Mrs. Clemens, with the + three elder children and the baby, accompanied by Jennie, the slave-girl, + set out in a light wagon for the day's drive, leaving Judge Clemens to + bring Little Sam on horseback Sunday morning. The hour was early when + Judge Clemens got up to saddle his horse, and Little Sam was still asleep. + The horse being ready, Clemens, his mind far away, mounted and rode off + without once remembering the little boy, and in the course of the + afternoon arrived at his brother-in-law's farm. Then he was confronted by + Jane Clemens, who demanded Little Sam. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” said the judge, aghast, “I never once thought of + him after I left him asleep.” + </p> + <p> + Wharton Lampton, a brother of Jane Clemens and Patsey Quarles, hastily + saddled a horse and set out, helter-skelter, for Hannibal. He arrived in + the early dusk. The child was safe enough, but he was crying with + loneliness and hunger. He had spent most of the day in the locked, + deserted house playing with a hole in the meal-sack where the meal ran + out, when properly encouraged, in a tiny stream. He was fed and comforted, + and next day was safe on the farm, which during that summer and those that + followed it, became so large a part of his boyhood and lent a coloring to + his later years. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII. THE FARM + </h2> + <p> + We have already mentioned the delight of the Clemens children in Uncle + John Quarles's farm. To Little Sam it was probably a life-saver. With his + small cousin, Tabitha,—[Tabitha Quarles, now Mrs. Greening, of + Palmyra, Missouri, has supplied most of the material for this chapter.]—just + his own age (they called her Puss), he wandered over that magic domain, + fording new marvels at every step, new delights everywhere. A slave-girl, + Mary, usually attended them, but she was only six years older, and not + older at all in reality, so she was just a playmate, and not a guardian to + be feared or evaded. Sometimes, indeed, it was necessary for her to + threaten to tell “Miss Patsey” or “Miss Jane,” + when her little charges insisted on going farther or staying later than + she thought wise from the viewpoint of her own personal safety; but this + was seldom, and on the whole a stay at the farm was just one long idyllic + dream of summer-time and freedom. + </p> + <p> + The farm-house stood in the middle of a large yard entered by a stile made + of sawed-off logs of graduated heights. In the corner of the yard were + hickory trees, and black walnut, and beyond the fence the hill fell away + past the barns, the corn-cribs, and the tobacco-house to a brook—a + divine place to wade, with deep, dark, forbidden pools. Down in the + pasture there were swings under the big trees, and Mary swung the children + and ran under them until their feet touched the branches, and then took + her turn and “balanced” herself so high that their one wish + was to be as old as Mary and swing in that splendid way. All the woods + were full of squirrels—gray squirrels and the red-fox species—and + many birds and flowers; all the meadows were gay with clover and + butterflies, and musical with singing grasshoppers and calling larks; + there were blackberries in the fence rows, apples and peaches in the + orchard, and watermelons in the corn. They were not always ripe, those + watermelons, and once, when Little Sam had eaten several pieces of a green + one, he was seized with cramps so severe that most of the household + expected him to die forthwith. + </p> + <p> + Jane Clemens was not heavily concerned. + </p> + <p> + “Sammy will pull through,” she said; “he wasn't born to + die that way.” + </p> + <p> + It is the slender constitution that bears the strain. “Sammy” + did pull through, and in a brief time was ready for fresh adventure. + </p> + <p> + There were plenty of these: there were the horses to ride to and from the + fields; the ox-wagons to ride in when they had dumped their heavy loads; + the circular horsepower to ride on when they threshed the wheat. This last + was a dangerous and forbidden pleasure, but the children would dart + between the teams and climb on, and the slave who was driving would + pretend not to see. Then in the evening when the black woman came along, + going after the cows, the children would race ahead and set the cows + running and jingling their bells—especially Little Sam, for he was a + wild-headed, impetuous child of sudden ecstasies that sent him capering + and swinging his arms, venting his emotions in a series of leaps and + shrieks and somersaults, and spasms of laughter as he lay rolling in the + grass. + </p> + <p> + His tendency to mischief grew with this wide liberty, improved health, and + the encouragement of John Quarles's good-natured, fun-loving slaves. + </p> + <p> + The negro quarters beyond the orchard were especially attractive. In one + cabin lived a bed-ridden, white-headed old woman whom the children visited + daily and looked upon with awe; for she was said to be a thousand years + old and to have talked with Moses. The negroes believed this; the + children, too, of course, and that she had lost her health in the desert, + coming out of Egypt. The bald spot on her head was caused by fright at + seeing Pharaoh drowned. She also knew how to avert spells and ward off + witches, which added greatly to her prestige. Uncle Dan'l was a favorite, + too-kind-hearted and dependable, while his occasional lockjaw gave him an + unusual distinction. Long afterward he would become Nigger Jim in the Tom + Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn tales, and so in his gentle guilelessness win + immortality and the love of many men. + </p> + <p> + Certainly this was a heavenly place for a little boy, the farm of Uncle + John Quarles, and the house was as wonderful as its surroundings. It was a + two-story double log building, with a spacious floor (roofed in) + connecting the two divisions. In the summer the table was set in the + middle of that shady, breezy pavilion, and sumptuous meals were served in + the lavish Southern style, brought to the table in vast dishes that left + only room for rows of plates around the edge. Fried chicken, roast pig, + turkeys, ducks, geese, venison just killed, squirrels, rabbits, + partridges, pheasants, prairie-chickens—the list is too long to be + served here. If a little boy could not improve on that bill of fare and in + that atmosphere, his case was hopeless indeed. His mother kept him there + until the late fall, when the chilly evenings made them gather around the + wide, blazing fireplace. Sixty years later he wrote of that scene: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I can see the room yet with perfect clearness. I can see all its + buildings, all its details: the family-room of the house, with the + trundle-bed in one corner and the spinning-wheel in another a wheel + whose rising and falling wail, heard from a distance, was the + mournfulest of all sounds to me, and made me homesick and low- + spirited, and filled my atmosphere with the wandering spirits of the + dead; the vast fireplace, piled high with flaming logs, from whose + ends a sugary sap bubbled out, but did not go to waste, for we + scraped it off and ate it;... the lazy cat spread out on the + rough hearthstones, the drowsy dogs braced against the jambs, + blinking; my aunt in one chimney-corner and my uncle in the other + smoking his corn-cob pipe; the slick and carpetless oak floor + faintly mirroring the flame tongues, and freckled with black + indentations where fire-coals had popped out and died a leisurely + death; half a dozen children romping in the background twilight; + splint-bottom chairs here and there—some with rockers; a cradle + —out of service, but waiting with confidence. +</pre> + <p> + One is tempted to dwell on this period, to quote prodigally from these + vivid memories—the thousand minute impressions which the child's + sensitive mind acquired in that long-ago time and would reveal everywhere + in his work in the years to come. For him it was education of a more + valuable and lasting sort than any he would ever acquire from books. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX. SCHOOL-DAYS + </h2> + <p> + Nevertheless, on his return to Hannibal, it was decided that Little Sam + was now ready to go to school. He was about five years old, and the months + on the farm had left him wiry and lively, even if not very robust. His + mother declared that he gave her more trouble than all the other children + put together. + </p> + <p> + “He drives me crazy with his didoes, when he is in the house,” + she used to say; “and when he is out of it I am expecting every + minute that some one will bring him home half dead.” + </p> + <p> + He did, in fact, achieve the first of his “nine narrow escapes from + drowning” about this time, and was pulled out of the river one + afternoon and brought home in a limp and unpromising condition. When with + mullein tea and castor-oil she had restored him to activity, she said: + “I guess there wasn't much danger. People born to be hanged are safe + in water.” + </p> + <p> + She declared she was willing to pay somebody to take him off her hands for + a part of each day and try to teach him manners. Perhaps this is a good + place to say that Jane Clemens was the original of Tom Sawyer's “Aunt + Polly,” and her portrait as presented in that book is considered + perfect. Kind-hearted, fearless, looking and acting ten years older than + her age, as women did in that time, always outspoken and sometimes severe, + she was regarded as a “character” by her friends, and beloved + by them as, a charitable, sympathetic woman whom it was good to know. Her + sense of pity was abnormal. She refused to kill even flies, and punished + the cat for catching mice. She, would drown the young kittens, when + necessary, but warmed the water for the purpose. On coming to Hannibal, + she joined the Presbyterian Church, and her religion was of that + clean-cut, strenuous kind which regards as necessary institutions hell and + Satan, though she had been known to express pity for the latter for being + obliged to surround himself with such poor society. Her children she + directed with considerable firmness, and all were tractable and growing in + grace except Little Sam. Even baby Henry at two was lisping the prayers + that Sam would let go by default unless carefully guarded. His sister + Pamela, who was eight years older and always loved him dearly, usually + supervised these spiritual exercises, and in her gentle care earned + immortality as the Cousin Mary of Tom Sawyer. He would say his prayers + willingly enough when encouraged by sister Pamela, but he much preferred + to sit up in bed and tell astonishing tales of the day's adventure—tales + which made prayer seem a futile corrective and caused his listeners to + wonder why the lightning was restrained so long. They did not know they + were glimpsing the first outcroppings of a genius that would one day amaze + and entertain the nations. Neighbors hearing of these things (also certain + of his narrations) remonstrated with Mrs. Clemens. + </p> + <p> + “You don't believe anything that child says, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, I know his average. I discount him ninety per cent. The + rest is pure gold.” At another time she said: “Sammy is a well + of truth, but you can't bring it all up in one bucket.” + </p> + <p> + This, however, is digression; the incidents may have happened somewhat + later. + </p> + <p> + A certain Miss E. Horr was selected to receive the payment for taking + charge of Little Sam during several hours each day, directing him mentally + and morally in the mean time. Her school was then in a log house on Main + Street (later it was removed to Third Street), and was of the primitive + old-fashioned kind, with pupils of all ages, ranging in advancement from + the primer to the third reader, from the tables to long division, with a + little geography and grammar and a good deal of spelling. Long division + and the third reader completed the curriculum in that school. Pupils who + decided to take a post-graduate course went to a Mr. Cross, who taught in + a frame house on the hill facing what is now the Public Square. + </p> + <p> + Miss Horr received twenty-five cents a week for each pupil, and opened her + school with prayer; after which came a chapter of the Bible, with + explanations, and the rules of conduct. Then the A B C class was called, + because their recital was a hand-to-hand struggle, requiring no + preparation. + </p> + <p> + The rules of conduct that first day interested Little Sam. He calculated + how much he would need to trim in, to sail close to the danger-line and + still avoid disaster. He made a miscalculation during the forenoon and + received warning; a second offense would mean punishment. He did not mean + to be caught the second time, but he had not learned Miss Horr yet, and + was presently startled by being commanded to go out and bring a stick for + his own correction. + </p> + <p> + This was certainly disturbing. It was sudden, and then he did not know + much about the selection of sticks. Jane Clemens had usually used her + hand. It required a second command to get him headed in the right + direction, and he was a trifle dazed when he got outside. He had the + forests of Missouri to select from, but choice was difficult. Everything + looked too big and competent. Even the smallest switch had a wiry, + discouraging look. Across the way was a cooper-shop with a good many + shavings outside. + </p> + <p> + One had blown across and lay just in front of him. It was an inspiration. + He picked it up and, solemnly entering the school-room, meekly handed it + to Miss Herr. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps Miss Horr's sense of humor prompted forgiveness, but discipline + must be maintained. + </p> + <p> + “Samuel Langhorne Clemens,” she said (he had never heard it + all strung together in that ominous way), “I am ashamed of you! + Jimmy Dunlap, go and bring a switch for Sammy.” And Jimmy Dunlap + went, and the switch was of a sort to give the little boy an immediate and + permanent distaste for school. He informed his mother when he went home at + noon that he did not care for school; that he had no desire to be a great + man; that he preferred to be a pirate or an Indian and scalp or drown such + people as Miss Horr. Down in her heart his mother was sorry for him, but + what she said was that she was glad there was somebody at last who could + take him in hand. + </p> + <p> + He returned to school, but he never learned to like it. Each morning he + went with reluctance and remained with loathing—the loathing which + he always had for anything resembling bondage and tyranny or even the + smallest curtailment of liberty. A School was ruled with a rod in those + days, a busy and efficient rod, as the Scripture recommended. Of the + smaller boys Little Sam's back was sore as often as the next, and he + dreamed mainly of a day when, grown big and fierce, he would descend with + his band and capture Miss Horr and probably drag her by the hair, as he + had seen Indians and pirates do in the pictures. When the days of early + summer came again; when from his desk he could see the sunshine lighting + the soft green of Holliday's Hill, with the purple distance beyond, and + the glint of the river, it seemed to him that to be shut up with a + Webster's spelling-book and a cross old maid was more than human nature + could bear. Among the records preserved from that far-off day there + remains a yellow slip, whereon in neat old-fashioned penmanship is + inscribed: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MISS PAMELA CLEMENS + + Has won the love of her teacher and schoolmates by her amiable + deportment and faithful application to her various studies. + E. Horr, Teacher. +</pre> + <p> + If any such testimonial was ever awarded to Little Sam, diligent search + has failed to reveal it. If he won the love of his teacher and playmates + it was probably for other reasons. + </p> + <p> + Yet he must have learned, somehow, for he could read presently and was + soon regarded as a good speller for his years. His spelling came as a + natural gift, as did most of his attainments, then and later. + </p> + <p> + It has already been mentioned that Miss Horr opened her school with prayer + and Scriptural readings. Little Sam did not especially delight in these + things, but he respected them. Not to do so was dangerous. Flames were + being kept brisk for little boys who were heedless of sacred matters; his + home teaching convinced him of that. He also respected Miss Horr as an + example of orthodox faith, and when she read the text “Ask and ye + shall receive” and assured them that whoever prayed for a thing + earnestly, his prayer would be answered, he believed it. A small + schoolmate, the balker's daughter, brought gingerbread to school every + morning, and Little Sam was just “honing” for some of it. He + wanted a piece of that baker's gingerbread more than anything else in the + world, and he decided to pray for it. + </p> + <p> + The little girl sat in front of him, but always until that morning had + kept the gingerbread out of sight. Now, however, when he finished his + prayer and looked up, a small morsel of the precious food lay in front of + him. Perhaps the little girl could no longer stand that hungry look in his + eyes. Possibly she had heard his petition; at all events his prayer bore + fruit and his faith at that moment would have moved Holliday's Hill. He + decided to pray for everything he wanted, but when he tried the + gingerbread supplication next morning it had no result. Grieved, but still + unshaken, he tried next morning again; still no gingerbread; and when a + third and fourth effort left him hungry he grew despairing and silent, and + wore the haggard face of doubt. His mother said: + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter, Sammy; are you sick?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, “but I don't believe in saying prayers + any more, and I'm never going to do it again.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Sammy, what in the world has happened?” she asked, + anxiously. Then he broke down and cried on her lap and told her, for it + was a serious thing in that day openly to repudiate faith. Jane Clemens + gathered him to her heart and comforted him. + </p> + <p> + “I'll make you a whole pan of gingerbread, better than that,” + she said, “and school will soon be out, too, and you can go back to + Uncle John's farm.” + </p> + <p> + And so passed and ended Little Sam's first school-days. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X. EARLY VICISSITUDE AND SORROW + </h2> + <p> + Prosperity came laggingly enough to the Clemens household. The year 1840 + brought hard times: the business venture paid little or no return; law + practice was not much more remunerative. Judge Clemens ran for the office + of justice of the peace and was elected, but fees were neither large nor + frequent. By the end of the year it became necessary to part with Jennie, + the slave-girl—a grief to all of them, for they were fond of her in + spite of her wilfulness, and she regarded them as “her family.” + She was tall, well formed, nearly black, and brought a good price. A + Methodist minister in Hannibal sold a negro child at the same time to + another minister who took it to his home farther South. As the steamboat + moved away from the landing the child's mother stood at the water's edge, + shrieking her anguish. We are prone to consider these things harshly now, + when slavery has been dead for nearly half a century, but it was a sacred + institution then, and to sell a child from its mother was little more than + to sell to-day a calf from its lowing dam. One could be sorry, of course, + in both instances, but necessity or convenience are matters usually + considered before sentiment. Mark Twain once said of his mother: + </p> + <p> + “Kind-hearted and compassionate as she was, I think she was not + conscious that slavery was a bald, grotesque, and unwarranted usurpation. + She had never heard it assailed in any pulpit, but had heard it defended + and sanctified in a thousand. As far as her experience went, the wise, the + good, and the holy were unanimous in the belief that slavery was right, + righteous, sacred, the peculiar pet of the Deity, and a condition which + the slave himself ought to be daily and nightly thankful for.” + </p> + <p> + Yet Jane Clemens must have had qualms at times—vague, unassembled + doubts that troubled her spirit. After Jennie was gone a little black + chore-boy was hired from his owner, who had bought him on the east shore + of Maryland and brought him to that remote Western village, far from + family and friends. + </p> + <p> + He was a cheery spirit in spite of that, and gentle, but very noisy. All + day he went about singing, whistling, and whooping until his noise became + monotonous, maddening. One day Little Sam said: + </p> + <p> + “Ma—[that was the Southern term]—make Sandy stop singing + all the time. It's awful.” + </p> + <p> + Tears suddenly came into his mother's eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Poor thing! He is sold away from his home. When he sings it shows + maybe he is not remembering. When he's still I am afraid he is thinking, + and I can't bear it.” + </p> + <p> + Yet any one in that day who advanced the idea of freeing the slaves was + held in abhorrence. An abolitionist was something to despise, to stone out + of the community. The children held the name in horror, as belonging to + something less than human; something with claws, perhaps, and a tail. + </p> + <p> + The money received for the sale of Jennie made judge Clemens easier for a + time. Business appears to have improved, too, and he was tided through + another year during which he seems to have made payments on an expensive + piece of real estate on Hill and Main streets. This property, acquired in + November, 1839, meant the payment of some seven thousand dollars, and was + a credit purchase, beyond doubt. It was well rented, but the tenants did + not always pay; and presently a crisis came—a descent of creditors—and + John: Clemens at forty-four found himself without business and without + means. He offered everything—his cow, his household furniture, even + his forks and spoons—to his creditors, who protested that he must + not strip himself. They assured him that they admired his integrity so + much they would aid him to resume business; but when he went to St. Louis + to lay in a stock of goods he was coldly met, and the venture came to + nothing. + </p> + <p> + He now made a trip to Tennessee in the hope of collecting some old debts + and to raise money on the Tennessee land. He took along a negro man named + Charlie, whom he probably picked up for a small sum, hoping to make + something through his disposal in a better market. The trip was another + failure. The man who owed him a considerable sum of money was solvent, but + pleaded hard times: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It seems so very hard upon him—[John Clemens wrote home]—to pay + such a sum that I could not have the conscience to hold him to it. + .. I still have Charlie. The highest price I had offered for him + in New Orleans was $50, in Vicksburg $40. After performing the + journey to Tennessee, I expect to sell him for whatever he will + bring. + + I do not know what I can commence for a business in the spring. My + brain is constantly on the rack with the study, and I can't relieve + myself of it. The future, taking its completion from the state of + my health or mind, is alternately beaming in sunshine or over- + shadowed with clouds; but mostly cloudy, as you may suppose. I want + bodily exercise—some constant and active employment, in the first + place; and, in the next place, I want to be paid for it, if + possible. +</pre> + <p> + This letter is dated January 7, 1842. He returned without any financial + success, and obtained employment for a time in a commission-house on the + levee. The proprietor found some fault one day, and Judge Clemens walked + out of the premises. On his way home he stopped in a general store, kept + by a man named Sehns, to make some purchases. When he asked that these be + placed on account, Selms hesitated. Judge Clemens laid down a five-dollar + gold piece, the last money he possessed in the world, took the goods, and + never entered the place again. + </p> + <p> + When Jane Clemens reproached him for having made the trip to Tennessee, at + a cost of two hundred dollars, so badly needed at this time, he only + replied gently that he had gone for what he believed to be the best. + </p> + <p> + “I am not able to dig in the streets,” he added, and Orion, + who records this, adds: + </p> + <p> + “I can see yet the hopeless expression of his face.” + </p> + <p> + During a former period of depression, such as this, death had come into + the Clemens home. It came again now. Little Benjamin, a sensitive, amiable + boy of ten, one day sickened, and died within a week, May 12, 1842. He was + a favorite child and his death was a terrible blow. Little Sam long + remembered the picture of his parents' grief; and Orion recalls that they + kissed each other, something hitherto unknown. + </p> + <p> + Judge Clemens went back to his law and judicial practice. Mrs. Clemens + decided to take a few boarders. Orion, by this time seventeen and a very + good journeyman printer, obtained a place in St. Louis to aid in the + family support. + </p> + <p> + The tide of fortune having touched low-water mark, the usual gentle stage + of improvement set in. Times grew better in Hannibal after those first two + or three years; legal fees became larger and more frequent. Within another + two years judge Clemens appears to have been in fairly hopeful + circumstances again—able at least to invest some money in silkworm + culture and lose it, also to buy a piano for Pamela, and to build a modest + house on the Hill Street property, which a rich St. Louis cousin, James + Clemens, had preserved for him. It was the house which is known today as + the “Mark Twain Home.”—[This house, in 1911, was bought + by Mr. and Mrs. George A. Mahan, and presented to Hannibal for a memorial + museum.]—Near it, toward the corner of Main Street, was his office, + and here he dispensed law and justice in a manner which, if it did not + bring him affluence, at least won for him the respect of the entire + community. One example will serve: + </p> + <p> + Next to his office was a stone-cutter's shop. One day the proprietor, Dave + Atkinson, got into a muss with one “Fighting” MacDonald, and + there was a tremendous racket. Judge Clemens ran out and found the men + down, punishing each other on the pavement. + </p> + <p> + “I command the peace!” he shouted, as he came up to them. + </p> + <p> + No one paid the least attention. + </p> + <p> + “I command the peace!” he shouted again, still louder, but + with no result. + </p> + <p> + A stone-cutter's mallet lay there, handy. Judge Clemens seized it and, + leaning over the combatants, gave the upper one, MacDonald, a smart blow + on the head. + </p> + <p> + “I command the peace!” he said, for the third time, and struck + a considerably smarter blow. + </p> + <p> + That settled it. The second blow was of the sort that made MacDonald roll + over, and peace ensued. Judge Clemens haled both men into his court, fined + them, and collected his fee. Such enterprise in the cause of justice + deserved prompt reward. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI. DAYS OF EDUCATION + </h2> + <p> + The Clemens family had made one or two moves since its arrival in + Hannibal, but the identity of these temporary residences and the period of + occupation of each can no longer be established. Mark Twain once said: + </p> + <p> + “In 1843 my father caught me in a lie. It is not this fact that + gives me the date, but the house we lived in. We were there only a year.” + </p> + <p> + We may believe it was the active result of that lie that fixed his memory + of the place, for his father seldom punished him. When he did, it was a + thorough and satisfactory performance. + </p> + <p> + It was about the period of moving into the new house (1844) that the Tom + Sawyer days—that is to say, the boyhood of Samuel Clemens—may + be said to have begun. Up to that time he was just Little Sam, a child—wild, + and mischievous, often exasperating, but still a child—a delicate + little lad to be worried over, mothered, or spanked and put to bed. Now, + at nine, he had acquired health, with a sturdy ability to look out for + himself, as boys will, in a community like that, especially where the + family is rather larger than the income and there is still a younger child + to claim a mother's protecting care. So “Sam,” as they now + called him, “grew up” at nine, and was full of knowledge for + his years. Not that he was old in spirit or manner—he was never + that, even to his death—but he had learned a great number of things, + mostly of a kind not acquired at school. + </p> + <p> + They were not always of a pleasant kind; they were likely to be of a kind + startling to a boy, even terrifying. Once Little Sam—he was still + Little Sam, then—saw an old man shot down on the main street, at + noonday. He saw them carry him home, lay him on the bed, and spread on his + breast an open family Bible which looked as heavy as an anvil. He though, + if he could only drag that great burden away, the poor, old dying man + would not breathe so heavily. He saw a young emigrant stabbed with a + bowie-knife by a drunken comrade, and noted the spurt of life-blood that + followed; he saw two young men try to kill their uncle, one holding him + while the other snapped repeatedly an Allen revolver which failed to go + off. Then there was the drunken rowdy who proposed to raid the “Welshman's” + house one dark threatening night—he saw that, too. A widow and her + one daughter lived there, and the ruffian woke the whole village with his + coarse challenges and obscenities. Sam Clemens and a boon companion, John + Briggs, went up there to look and listen. The man was at the gate, and the + warren were invisible in the shadow of the dark porch. The boys heard the + elder woman's voice warning the man that she had a loaded gun, and that + she would kill him if he stayed where he was. He replied with a ribald + tirade, and she warned that she would count ten-that if he remained a + second longer she would fire. She began slowly and counted up to five, + with him laughing and jeering. At six he grew silent, but he did not go. + She counted on: seven—eight—nine—The boys watching from + the dark roadside felt their hearts stop. There was a long pause, then the + final count, followed a second later by a gush of flame. The man dropped, + his breast riddled. At the same instant the thunderstorm that had been + gathering broke loose. The boys fled wildly, believing that Satan himself + had arrived to claim the lost soul. + </p> + <p> + Many such instances happened in a town like that in those days. And there + were events incident to slavery. He saw a slave struck down and killed + with a piece of slag for a trifling offense. He saw an abolitionist + attacked by a mob, and they would have lynched him had not a Methodist + minister defended him on a plea that he must be crazy. He did not + remember, in later years, that he had ever seen a slave auction, but he + added: + </p> + <p> + “I am suspicious that it is because the thing was a commonplace + spectacle, and not an uncommon or impressive one. I do vividly remember + seeing a dozen black men and women chained together lying in a group on + the pavement, waiting shipment to a Southern slave-market. They had the + saddest faces I ever saw.” + </p> + <p> + It is not surprising that a boy would gather a store of human knowledge + amid such happenings as these. They were wild, disturbing things. They got + into his dreams and made him fearful when he woke in the middle of the + night. He did not then regard them as an education. In some vague way he + set them down as warnings, or punishments, designed to give him a taste + for a better life. He felt that it was his own conscience that made these + things torture him. That was his mother's idea, and he had a high respect + for her moral opinions, also for her courage. Among other things, he had + seen her one day defy a vicious devil of a Corsican—a common terror + in the town-who was chasing his grown daughter with a heavy rope in his + hand, declaring he would wear it out on her. Cautious citizens got out of + her way, but Jane Clemens opened her door wide to the refugee, and then, + instead of rushing in and closing it, spread her arms across it, barring + the way. The man swore and threatened her with the rope, but she did not + flinch or show any sign of fear. She stood there and shamed him and + derided him and defied him until he gave up the rope and slunk off, + crestfallen and conquered. Any one who could do that must have a perfect + conscience, Sam thought. In the fearsome darkness he would say his + prayers, especially when a thunderstorm was coming, and vow to begin a + better life in the morning. He detested Sunday-school as much as + day-school, and once Orion, who was moral and religious, had threatened to + drag him there by the collar; but as the thunder got louder Sam decided + that he loved Sunday-school and would go the next Sunday without being + invited. + </p> + <p> + Fortunately there were pleasanter things than these. There were picnics + sometimes, and ferry-boat excursions. Once there was a great + Fourth-of-July celebration at which it was said a real Revolutionary + soldier was to be present. Some one had discovered him living alone seven + or eight miles in the country. But this feature proved a disappointment; + for when the day came and he was triumphantly brought in he turned out to + be a Hessian, and was allowed to walk home. + </p> + <p> + The hills and woods around Hannibal where, with his playmates, he roamed + almost at will were never disappointing. There was the cave with its + marvels; there was Bear Creek, where, after repeated accidents, he had + learned to swim. It had cost him heavily to learn to swim. He had seen two + playmates drown; also, time and again he had, himself, been dragged ashore + more dead than alive, once by a slave-girl, another time by a slaveman—Neal + Champ, of the Pavey Hotel. In the end he had conquered; he could swim + better than any boy in town of his age. + </p> + <p> + It was the river that meant more to him than all the rest. Its charm was + permanent. It was the path of adventure, the gateway to the world. The + river with its islands, its great slow-moving rafts, its marvelous + steamboats that were like fairyland, its stately current swinging to the + sea! He would sit by it for hours and dream. He would venture out on it in + a surreptitiously borrowed boat when he was barely strong enough to lift + an oar out of the water. He learned to know all its moods and phases. He + felt its kinship. In some occult way he may have known it as his prototype—that + resistless tide of life with its ever-changing sweep, its shifting shores, + its depths, its shadows, its gorgeous sunset hues, its solemn and tranquil + entrance to the sea. + </p> + <p> + His hunger for the life aboard the steamers became a passion. To be even + the humblest employee of one of those floating enchantments would be + enough; to be an officer would be to enter heaven; to be a pilot was to be + a god. + </p> + <p> + “You can hardly imagine what it meant,” he reflected once, + “to a boy in those days, shut in as we were, to see those steamboats + pass up and down, and never to take a trip on them.” + </p> + <p> + He had reached the mature age of nine when he could endure this no longer. + One day, when the big packet came down and stopped at Hannibal, he slipped + aboard and crept under one of the boats on the upper deck. Presently the + signal-bells rang, the steamboat backed away and swung into midstream; he + was really going at last. He crept from beneath the boat and sat looking + out over the water and enjoying the scenery. Then it began to rain—a + terrific downpour. He crept back under the boat, but his legs were + outside, and one of the crew saw him. So he was taken down into the cabin + and at the next stop set ashore. It was the town of Louisiana, and there + were Lampton relatives there who took him home. Jane Clemens declared that + his father had got to take him in hand; which he did, doubtless impressing + the adventure on him in the usual way. These were all educational things; + then there was always the farm, where entertainment was no longer a matter + of girl-plays and swings, with a colored nurse following about, but of + manlier sports with his older boy cousins, who had a gun and went hunting + with the men for squirrels and partridges by day, for coons and possums by + night. Sometimes the little boy had followed the hunters all night long + and returned with them through the sparkling and fragrant morning fresh, + hungry, and triumphant just in time for breakfast. + </p> + <p> + So it is no wonder that at nine he was no longer “Little Sam,” + but Sam Clemens, quite mature and self-dependent, with a wide knowledge of + men and things and a variety of accomplishments. He had even learned to + smoke—a little—out there on the farm, and had tried + tobacco-chewing, though that was a failure. He had been stung to this + effort by a big girl at a school which, with his cousin Puss, he sometimes + briefly attended. + </p> + <p> + “Do you use terbacker?” the big girl had asked, meaning did he + chew it. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, abashed at the confession. + </p> + <p> + “Haw!” she cried to the other scholars; “here's a boy + that can't chaw terbacker.” + </p> + <p> + Degraded and ashamed, he tried to correct his fault, but it only made him + very ill; and he did not try again. + </p> + <p> + He had also acquired the use of certain strong, expressive words, and used + them, sometimes, when his mother was safely distant. He had an impression + that she would “skin him alive” if she heard him swear. His + education had doubtful spots in it, but it had provided wisdom. + </p> + <p> + He was not a particularly attractive lad. He was not tall for his years, + and his head was somewhat too large for his body. He had a “great + ruck” of light, sandy hair which he plastered down to keep it from + curling; keen blue-gray eyes, and rather large features. Still, he had a + fair, delicate complexion, when it was not blackened by grime or tan; a + gentle, winning manner; a smile that, with his slow, measured way of + speaking, made him a favorite with his companions. He did not speak much, + and his mental attainments were not highly regarded; but, for some reason, + whenever he did speak every playmate in hearing stopped whatever he was + doing and listened. Perhaps it would be a plan for a new game or lark; + perhaps it was something droll; perhaps it was just a commonplace remark + that his peculiar drawl made amusing. Whatever it was, they considered it + worth while. His mother always referred to his slow fashion of speaking as + “Sammy's long talk.” Her own speech was still more deliberate, + but she seemed not to notice it. Henry—a much handsomer lad and + regarded as far more promising—did not have it. He was a lovable, + obedient little fellow whom the mischievous Sam took delight in teasing. + For this and other reasons the latter's punishments were frequent enough, + perhaps not always deserved. Sometimes he charged his mother with + partiality. He would say: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, no matter what it is, I am always the one to get punished”; + and his mother would answer: + </p> + <p> + “Well, Sam, if you didn't deserve it for that, you did for something + else.” + </p> + <p> + Henry Clemens became the Sid of Tom Sawyer, though Henry was in every way + a finer character than Sid. His brother Sam always loved him, and fought + for him oftener than with him. + </p> + <p> + With the death of Benjamin Clemens, Henry and Sam were naturally drawn + much closer together, though Sam could seldom resist the temptation of + tormenting Henry. A schoolmate, George Butler (he was a nephew of General + Butler and afterward fought bravely in the Civil War), had a little blue + suit with a leather belt to match, and was the envy of all. Mrs. Clemens + finally made Sam and Henry suits of blue cotton velvet, and the next + Sunday, after various services were over, the two sauntered about, + shedding glory for a time, finally going for a stroll in the woods. They + walked along properly enough, at first, then just ahead Sam spied the + stump of a newly cut tree, and with a wild whooping impulse took a running + leap over it. There were splinters on the stump where the tree had broken + away, but he cleared them neatly. Henry wanted to match the performance, + but was afraid to try, so Sam dared him. He kept daring him until Henry + was goaded to the attempt. He cleared the stump, but the highest splinters + caught the slack of his little blue trousers, and the cloth gave way. He + escaped injury, but the precious trousers were damaged almost beyond + repair. Sam, with a boy's heartlessness, was fairly rolling on the ground + with laughter at Henry's appearance. + </p> + <p> + “Cotton-tail rabbit!” he shouted. “Cotton-tail rabbit!” + while Henry, weeping, set out for home by a circuitous and unfrequented + road. Let us hope, if there was punishment for this mishap, that it fell + in the proper locality. + </p> + <p> + These two brothers were of widely different temperament. Henry, even as a + little boy, was sturdy, industrious, and dependable. Sam was volatile and + elusive; his industry of an erratic kind. Once his father set him to work + with a hatchet to remove some plaster. He hacked at it for a time well + enough, then lay down on the floor of the room and threw his hatchet at + such areas of the plaster as were not in easy reach. Henry would have + worked steadily at a task like that until the last bit was removed and the + room swept clean. + </p> + <p> + The home incidents in 'Tom Sawyer', most of them, really happened. Sam + Clemens did clod Henry for getting him into trouble about the colored + thread with which he sewed his shirt when he came home from swimming; he + did inveigle a lot of boys into whitewashing, a fence for him; he did give + Pain-killer to Peter, the cat. There was a cholera scare that year, and + Pain-killer was regarded as a preventive. Sam had been ordered to take it + liberally, and perhaps thought Peter too should be safeguarded. As for + escaping punishment for his misdeeds in the manner described in that book, + this was a daily matter, and the methods adapted themselves to the + conditions. In the introduction to Tom Sawyer Mark Twain confesses to the + general truth of the history, and to the reality of its characters. + “Huck Finn was drawn from life,” he tells us. “Tom + Sawyer also, but not from an individual—he is a combination of the + characteristics of three boys whom I knew.” + </p> + <p> + The three boys were—himself, chiefly, and in a lesser degree John + Briggs and Will Bowen. John Briggs was also the original of Joe Harper in + that book. As for Huck Finn, his original was Tom Blankenship, neither + elaborated nor qualified. + </p> + <p> + There were several of the Blankenships: there was old Ben, the father, who + had succeeded “General” Gains as the town drunkard; young Ben, + the eldest son—a hard case with certain good traits; and Tom—that + is to say, Huck—who was just as he is described in Tom Sawyer: a + ruin of rags, a river-rat, an irresponsible bit of human drift, kind of + heart and possessing that priceless boon, absolute unaccountability of + conduct to any living soul. He could came and go as he chose; he never had + to work or go to school; he could do all things, good or bad, that the + other boys longed to do and were forbidden. He represented to them the + very embodiment of liberty, and his general knowledge of important + matters, such as fishing, hunting, trapping, and all manner of signs and + spells and hoodoos and incantations, made him immensely valuable as a + companion. The fact that his society was prohibited gave it a vastly added + charm. + </p> + <p> + The Blankenships picked up a precarious living fishing and hunting, and + lived at first in a miserable house of bark, under a tree, but later moved + into quite a pretentious building back of the new Clemens home on Hill + Street. It was really an old barn of a place—poor and ramshackle + even then; but now, more than sixty years later, a part of it is still + standing. The siding of the part that stands is of black walnut, which + must have been very plentiful in that long-ago time. Old drunken Ben + Blankenship never dreamed that pieces of his house would be carried off as + relics because of the literary fame of his son Tom—a fame founded on + irresponsibility and inconsequence. Orion Clemens, who was concerned with + missionary work about this time, undertook to improve the Blankenships + spiritually. Sam adopted them, outright, and took them to his heart. He + was likely to be there at any hour of the day, and he and Tom had cat-call + signals at night which would bring him out on the back single-story roof, + and down a little arbor and flight of steps, to the group of boon + companions which, besides Tom, included John Briggs, the Bowen boys, Will + Pitts, and one or two other congenial spirits. They were not vicious boys; + they were not really bad boys; they were only mischievous, fun-loving + boys-thoughtless, and rather disregardful of the comforts and the rights + of others. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XII. TOM SAWYER'S BAND + </h2> + <p> + They ranged from Holliday's Hill on the north to the Cave on the south, + and over the fields and through all the woods about. They navigated the + river from Turtle Island to Glasscock's Island (now Pearl, or Tom Sawyer's + Island), and far below; they penetrated the wilderness of the Illinois + shore. They could run like wild turkeys and swim like ducks; they could + handle a boat as if born in one. No orchard or melon patch was entirely + safe from them; no dog or slave patrol so vigilant that they did not + sooner or later elude it. They borrowed boats when their owners were not + present. Once when they found this too much trouble, they decided to own a + boat, and one Sunday gave a certain borrowed craft a coat of red paint + (formerly it had been green), and secluded it for a season up Bear Creek. + They borrowed the paint also, and the brush, though they carefully + returned these the same evening about nightfall, so the painter could have + them Monday morning. Tom Blankenship rigged up a sail for the new craft, + and Sam Clemens named it Cecilia, after which they didn't need to borrow + boats any more, though the owner of it did; and he sometimes used to + observe as he saw it pass that, if it had been any other color but red, he + would have sworn it was his. + </p> + <p> + Some of their expeditions were innocent enough. They often cruised up to + Turtle Island, about two miles above Hannibal, and spent the day feasting. + You could have loaded a car with turtles and their eggs up there, and + there were quantities of mussels and plenty of fish. Fishing and swimming + were their chief pastimes, with general marauding for adventure. Where the + railroad-bridge now ends on the Missouri side was their favorite + swimming-hole—that and along Bear Creek, a secluded limpid water + with special interests of its own. Sometimes at evening they swam across + to Glasscock's Island—the rendezvous of Tom Sawyer's “Black + Avengers” and the hiding-place of Huck and Nigger Jim; then, when + they had frolicked on the sand-bar at the head of the island for an hour + or more, they would swim back in the dusk, a distance of half a mile, + breasting the strong, steady Mississippi current without exhaustion or + fear. They could swim all day, likely enough, those graceless young + scamps. Once—though this was considerably later, when he was sixteen—Sam + Clemens swam across to the Illinois side, and then turned and swam back + again without landing, a distance of at least two miles, as he had to go. + He was seized with a cramp on the return trip. His legs became useless, + and he was obliged to make the remaining distance with his arms. It was a + hardy life they led, and it is not recorded that they ever did any serious + damage, though they narrowly missed it sometimes. + </p> + <p> + One of their Sunday pastimes was to climb Holliday's Hill and roll down + big stones, to frighten the people who were driving to church. Holliday's + Hill above the road was steep; a stone once started would go plunging and + leaping down and bound across the road with the deadly swiftness of a + twelve-inch shell. The boys would get a stone poised, then wait until they + saw a team approaching, and, calculating the distance, would give it a + start. Dropping down behind the bushes, they would watch the dramatic + effect upon the church-goers as the great missile shot across the road a + few yards before them. This was Homeric sport, but they carried it too + far. Stones that had a habit of getting loose so numerously on Sundays and + so rarely on other days invited suspicion, and the “Patterollers” + (river patrol—a kind of police of those days) were put on the watch. + So the boys found other diversions until the Patterollers did not watch + any more; then they planned a grand coup that would eclipse anything + before attempted in the stone-rolling line. + </p> + <p> + A rock about the size of an omnibus was lying up there, in a good position + to go down hill, once, started. They decided it would be a glorious thing + to see that great boulder go smashing down, a hundred yards or so in front + of some unsuspecting and peaceful-minded church-goer. Quarrymen were + getting out rock not far away, and left their picks and shovels over + Sundays. The boys borrowed these, and went to work to undermine the big + stone. It was a heavier job than they had counted on, but they worked + faithfully, Sunday after Sunday. If their parents had wanted them to work + like that, they would have thought they were being killed. + </p> + <p> + Finally one Sunday, while they were digging, it suddenly got loose and + started down. They were not quite ready for it. Nobody was coming but an + old colored man in a cart, so it was going to be wasted. It was not quite + wasted, however. They had planned for a thrilling result; and there was + thrill enough while it lasted. In the first place, the stone nearly caught + Will Bowen when it started. John Briggs had just that moment quit digging + and handed Will the pick. Will was about to step into the excavation when + Sam Clemens, who was already there, leaped out with a yell: + </p> + <p> + “Look out, boys, she's coming!” + </p> + <p> + She came. The huge stone kept to the ground at first, then, gathering a + wild momentum, it went bounding into the air. About half-way down the hill + it struck a tree several inches through and cut it clean off. This turned + its course a little, and the negro in the cart, who heard the noise, saw + it come crashing in his direction and made a wild effort to whip up his + horse. It was also headed toward a cooper-shop across the road. The boys + watched it with growing interest. It made longer leaps with every bound, + and whenever it struck the fragments the dust would fly. They were certain + it would demolish the negro and destroy the cooper-shop. The shop was + empty, it being Sunday, but the rest of the catastrophe would invite close + investigation, with results. They wanted to fly, but they could not move + until they saw the rock land. It was making mighty leaps now, and the + terrified negro had managed to get directly in its path. They stood + holding their breath, their mouths open. Then suddenly they could hardly + believe their eyes; the boulder struck a projection a distance above the + road, and with a mighty bound sailed clear over the negro and his mule and + landed in the soft dirt beyond-only a fragment striking the shop, damaging + but not wrecking it. Half buried in the ground, that boulder lay there for + nearly forty years; then it was blasted up for milling purposes. It was + the last rock the boys ever rolled down. They began to suspect that the + sport was not altogether safe. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes the boys needed money, which was not easy to get in those days. + On one occasion of this sort, Tom Blankenship had the skin of a coon he + had captured, which represented the only capital in the crowd. At Selms's + store on Wild Cat corner the coonskin would bring ten cents, but that was + not enough. They arranged a plan which would make it pay a good deal more + than that. Selins's window was open, it being summer-time, and his pile of + pelts was pretty handy. Huck—that is to say, Tom—went in the + front door and sold the skin for ten cents to Selms, who tossed it back on + the pile. Tom came back with the money and after a reasonable period went + around to the open window, crawled in, got the coonskin, and sold it to + Selms again. He did this several times that afternoon; then John Pierce, + Selins's clerk, said: + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Selms, there is something wrong about this. That boy has + been selling us coonskins all the afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + Selms went to his pile of pelts. There were several sheepskins and some + cowhides, but only one coonskin—the one he had that moment bought. + Selms himself used to tell this story as a great joke. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps it is not adding to Mark Twain's reputation to say that the boy + Sam Clemens—a pretty small boy, a good deal less than twelve at this + time—was the leader of this unhallowed band; yet any other record + would be less than historic. If the band had a leader, it was he. They + were always ready to listen to him—they would even stop fishing to + do that—and to follow his projects. They looked to him for ideas and + organization, whether the undertaking was to be real or make-believe. When + they played “Bandit” or “Pirate” or “Indian,” + Sam Clemens was always chief; when they became real raiders it is recorded + that he was no less distinguished. Like Tom Sawyer, he loved the glare and + trappings of leadership. When the Christian Sons of Temperance came along + with a regalia, and a red sash that carried with it rank and the privilege + of inventing pass-words, the gaud of these things got into his eyes, and + he gave up smoking (which he did rather gingerly) and swearing (which he + did only under heavy excitement), also liquor (though he had never tasted + it yet), and marched with the newly washed and pure in heart for a full + month—a month of splendid leadership and servitude. Then even the + red sash could not hold him in bondage. He looked up Tom Blankenship and + said: + </p> + <p> + “Say, Tom, I'm blamed tired of this! Let's go somewhere and smoke!” + Which must have been a good deal of a sacrifice, for the uniform was a + precious thing. + </p> + <p> + Limelight and the center of the stage was a passion of Sam Clemens's + boyhood, a love of the spectacular that never wholly died. It seems almost + a pity that in those far-off barefoot old days he could not have looked + down the years to a time when, with the world at his feet, venerable + Oxford should clothe him in a scarlet gown. + </p> + <p> + He could not by any chance have dreamed of that stately honor. His + ambitions did not lie in the direction of mental achievement. It is true + that now and then, on Friday at school, he read a composition, one of + which—a personal burlesque on certain older boys—came near + resulting in bodily damage. But any literary ambition he may have had in + those days was a fleeting thing. His permanent dream was to be a pirate, + or a pilot, or a bandit, or a trapper-scout; something gorgeous and + active, where his word—his nod, even—constituted sufficient + law. The river kept the pilot ambition always fresh, and the cave supplied + a background for those other things. + </p> + <p> + The cave was an enduring and substantial joy. It was a real cave, not + merely a hole, but a subterranean marvel of deep passages and vaulted + chambers that led away into bluffs and far down into the earth's black + silences, even below the river, some said. For Sam Clemens the cave had a + fascination that never faded. Other localities and diversions might pall, + but any mention of the cave found him always eager and ready for the + three-mile walk or pull that brought them to its mystic door. With its + long corridors, its royal chambers hung with stalactites, its remote + hiding-places, its possibilities as the home of a gallant outlaw band, it + contained everything that a romantic boy could love or long for. In Tom + Sawyer Indian Joe dies in the cave. He did not die there in real life, but + was lost there once, and was living on bats when they found him. He was a + dissolute reprobate, and when, one night, he did die there came up a + thunder-storm so terrific that Sam Clemens at home and in bed was certain + that Satan had come in person for the half-breed's wicked soul. He covered + his head and said his prayers industriously, in the fear that the evil one + might conclude to save another trip by taking him along, too. + </p> + <p> + The treasure-digging adventure in the book had a foundation in fact. There + was a tradition concerning some French trappers who long before had + established a trading-post two miles above Hannibal, on what is called the + “bay.” It is said that, while one of these trappers was out + hunting, Indians made a raid on the post and massacred the others. The + hunter on returning found his comrades killed and scalped, but the Indians + had failed to find the treasure which was buried in a chest. He left it + there, swam across to Illinois, and made his way to St. Louis, where he + told of the massacre and the burial of the chest of gold. Then he started + to raise a party to go back for it, but was taken sick and died. Later + some men came up from St. Louis looking for the chest. They did not find + it, but they told the circumstances, and afterward a good many people + tried to find the gold. + </p> + <p> + Tom Blankenship one morning came to Sam Clemens and John Briggs and said + he was going to dig up the treasure. He said he had dreamed just where it + was, and said if they would go with him and dig he would divide up. The + boys had great faith in dreams, especially Tom's dreams. Tom's unlimited + freedom gave him a large importance in their eyes. The dreams of a boy + like that were pretty sure to mean something. They followed Tom to the + place with some shovels and a pick, and he showed them where to dig. Then + he sat down under the shade of a papaw-tree and gave orders. + </p> + <p> + They dug nearly all day. Now and then they stopped to rest, and maybe to + wonder a little why Tom didn't dig some himself; but, of course, he had + done the dreaming, which entitled him to an equal share. + </p> + <p> + They did not find it that day, and when they went back next morning they + took two long iron rods; these they would push and drive into the ground + until they struck something hard. Then they would dig down to see what it + was, but it never turned out to be money. That night the boys declared + they would not dig any more. But Tom had another dream. He dreamed the + gold was exactly under the little papaw-tree. This sounded so + circumstantial that they went back and dug another day. It was hot weather + too, August, and that night they were nearly dead. Even Tom gave it up, + then. He said there was something about the way they dug, but he never + offered to do any digging himself. + </p> + <p> + This differs considerably from the digging incident in the book, but it + gives us an idea of the respect the boys had for the ragamuffin original + of Huckleberry Finn.—[Much of the detail in this chapter was + furnished to the writer by John Briggs shortly before his death in 1907.]—Tom + Blankenship's brother, Ben, was also drawn upon for that creation, at + least so far as one important phase of Huck's character is concerned. He + was considerably older, as well as more disreputable, than Tom. He was + inclined to torment the boys by tying knots in their clothes when they + went swimming, or by throwing mud at them when they wanted to come out, + and they had no deep love for him. But somewhere in Ben Blankenship there + was a fine generous strain of humanity that provided Mark Twain with that + immortal episode in the story of Huck Finn—in sheltering the Nigger + Jim. + </p> + <p> + This is the real story: + </p> + <p> + A slave ran off from Monroe County, Missouri, and got across the river + into Illinois. Ben used to fish and hunt over there in the swamps, and one + day found him. It was considered a most worthy act in those days to return + a runaway slave; in fact, it was a crime not to do it. Besides, there was + for this one a reward of fifty dollars, a fortune to ragged outcast Ben + Blankenship. That money and the honor he could acquire must have been + tempting to the waif, but it did not outweigh his human sympathy. Instead + of giving him up and claiming the reward, Ben kept the runaway over there + in the marshes all summer. The negro would fish and Ben would carry him + scraps of other food. Then, by and by, it leaked out. Some wood-choppers + went on a hunt for the fugitive, and chased him to what was called “Bird + Slough.” There trying to cross a drift he was drowned. + </p> + <p> + In the book, the author makes Huck's struggle a psychological one between + conscience and the law, on one side, and sympathy on the other. With Ben + Blankenship the struggle—if there was a struggle—was probably + between sympathy and cupidity. He would care very little for conscience + and still less for law. His sympathy with the runaway, however, would be + large and elemental, and it must have been very large to offset the lure + of that reward. + </p> + <p> + There was a gruesome sequel to this incident. Some days following the + drowning of the runaway, Sam Clemens, John Briggs, and the Bowen boys went + to the spot and were pushing the drift about, when suddenly the negro rose + before them, straight and terrible, about half his length out of the + water. He had gone down feet foremost, and the loosened drift had released + him. The boys did not stop to investigate. They thought he was after them + and flew in wild terror, never stopping until they reached human + habitation. + </p> + <p> + How many gruesome experiences there appear to have been in those early + days! In 'The Innocents Abroad' Mark Twain tells of the murdered man he + saw one night in his father's office. The man's name was McFarlane. He had + been stabbed that day in the old Hudson-McFarlane feud and carried in + there to die. Sam Clemens and John Briggs had run away from school and had + been sky larking all that day, and knew nothing of the affair. Sam decided + that his father's office was safer for him than to face his mother, who + was probably sitting up, waiting. He tells us how he lay on the lounge, + and how a shape on the floor gradually resolved itself into the outlines + of a man; how a square of moonlight from the window approached it and + gradually revealed the dead face and the ghastly stabbed breast. + </p> + <p> + “I went out of there,” he says. “I do not say that I + went away in any sort of a hurry, but I simply went; that is sufficient. I + went out of the window, and I carried the sash along with me. I did not + need the sash, but it was handier to take it than to, leave it, and so I + took it. I was not scared, but I was considerably agitated.” + </p> + <p> + He was not yet twelve, for his father was no longer alive when the boy + reached that age. Certainly these were disturbing, haunting things. Then + there was the case of the drunken tramp in the calaboose to whom the boys + kind-heartedly enough carried food and tobacco. Sam Clemens spent some of + his precious money to buy the tramp a box of Lucifer matches—a brand + new invention then, scarce and high. The tramp started a fire with the + matches and burned down the calaboose, himself in it. For weeks the boy + was tortured, awake and in his dreams, by the thought that if he had not + carried the man the matches the tragedy could not have happened. Remorse + was always Samuel Clemens's surest punishment. To his last days on earth + he never outgrew its pangs. + </p> + <p> + What a number of things crowded themselves into a few brief years! It is + not easy to curtail these boyhood adventures of Sam Clemens and his + scapegrace friends, but one might go on indefinitely with their mad + doings. They were an unpromising lot. Ministers and other sober-minded + citizens freely prophesied sudden and violent ends for them, and + considered them hardly worth praying for. They must have proven a + disappointing lot to those prophets. The Bowen boys became fine + river-pilots; Will Pitts was in due time a leading merchant and bank + director; John Briggs grew into a well-to-do and highly respected farmer; + even Huck Finn—that is to say, Tom Blankenship—is reputed to + have ranked as an honored citizen and justice of the peace in a Western + town. But in those days they were a riotous, fun-loving band with little + respect for order and even less for ordinance. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIII. THE GENTLER SIDE + </h2> + <p> + His associations were not all of that lawless breed. At his school (he had + sampled several places of learning, and was now at Mr. Cross's on the + Square) were a number of less adventurous, even if not intrinsically + better playmates. There was George Robards, the Latin scholar, and John, + his brother, a handsome boy, who rode away at last with his father into + the sunset, to California, his golden curls flying in the wind. And there + was Jimmy McDaniel, a kind-hearted boy whose company was worth while, + because his father was a confectioner, and he used to bring candy and cake + to school. Also there was Buck Brown, a rival speller, and John Meredith, + the doctor's son, and John Garth, who was one day to marry little Helen + Kercheval, and in the end would be remembered and honored with a beautiful + memorial building not far from the site of the old school. + </p> + <p> + Furthermore, there were a good many girls. Tom Sawyer had an + impressionable heart, and Sam Clemens no less so. There was Bettie + Ormsley, and Artemisia Briggs, and Jennie Brady; also Mary Miller, who was + nearly twice his age and gave him his first broken heart. + </p> + <p> + “I believe I was as miserable as a grown man could be,” he + said once, remembering. + </p> + <p> + Tom Sawyer had heart sorrows too, and we may imagine that his emotions at + such times were the emotions of Sam Clemens, say at the age of ten. + </p> + <p> + But, as Tom Sawyer had one faithful sweetheart, so did he. They were one + and the same. Becky Thatcher in the book was Laura Hawkins in reality. The + acquaintance of these two had begun when the Hawkins family moved into the + Virginia house on the corner of Hill and Main streets.—[The Hawkins + family in real life bore no resemblance to the family of that name in The + Gilded Age. Judge Hawkins of The Gilded Age, as already noted, was John + Clemens. Mark Twain used the name Hawkins, also the name of his boyhood + sweetheart, Laura, merely for old times' sake, and because in portraying + the childhood of Laura Hawkins he had a picture of the real Laura in his + mind.]—The Clemens family was then in the new home across the way, + and the children were soon acquainted. The boy could be tender and kind, + and was always gentle in his treatment of the other sex. They visited back + and forth, especially around the new house, where there were nice pieces + of boards and bricks for play-houses. So they played “keeping house,” + and if they did not always agree well, since the beginning of the world + sweethearts have not always agreed, even in Arcady. Once when they were + building a house—and there may have been some difference of opinion + as to its architecture—the boy happened to let a brick fall on the + little girl's finger. If there had been any disagreement it vanished + instantly with that misfortune. He tried to comfort her and soothe the + pain; then he wept with her and suffered most of the two, no doubt. So, + you see, he was just a little boy, after all, even though he was already + chief of a red-handed band, the “Black Avengers of the Spanish Main.” + </p> + <p> + He was always a tender-hearted lad. He would never abuse an animal, + unless, as in the Pain-killer incident, his tendency to pranking ran away + with him. He had indeed a genuine passion for cats; summers when he went + to the farm he never failed to take his cat in a basket. When he ate, it + sat in a chair beside him at the table. His sympathy included inanimate + things as well. He loved flowers—not as the embryo botanist or + gardener, but as a personal friend. He pitied the dead leaf and the + murmuring dried weed of November because their brief lives were ended, and + they would never know the summer again, or grow glad with another spring. + His heart went out to them; to the river and the sky, the sunlit meadow + and the drifted hill. That his observation of all nature was minute and + accurate is shown everywhere in his writing; but it was never the + observation of a young naturalist it was the subconscious observation of + sympathetic love. + </p> + <p> + We are wandering away from his school-days. They were brief enough and + came rapidly to an end. They will not hold us long. Undoubtedly Tom + Sawyer's distaste for school and his excuses for staying at home—usually + some pretended illness—have ample foundation in the boyhood of Sam + Clemens. His mother punished him and pleaded with him, alternately. He + detested school as he detested nothing else on earth, even going to + church. “Church ain't worth shucks,” said Tom Sawyer, but it + was better than school. + </p> + <p> + As already noted, the school of Mr. Cross stood in or near what is now the + Square in Hannibal. The Square was only a grove then, grown up with plum, + hazel, and vine—a rare place for children. At recess and the noon + hour the children climbed trees, gathered flowers, and swung in grape-vine + swings. There was a spelling-bee every Friday afternoon, for Sam the only + endurable event of the school exercises. He could hold the floor at + spelling longer than Buck Brown. This was spectacular and showy; it + invited compliments even from Mr. Cross, whose name must have been handed + down by angels, it fitted him so well. One day Sam Clemens wrote on his + slate: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Cross by name and cross by nature + Cross jumped over an Irish potato. +</pre> + <p> + He showed this to John Briggs, who considered it a stroke of genius. He + urged the author to write it on the board at noon, but the poet's ambition + did not go so far. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, pshaw!” said John. “I wouldn't be afraid to do it. + </p> + <p> + “I dare you to do it,” said Sam. + </p> + <p> + John Briggs never took a dare, and at noon, when Mr. Cross was at home at + dinner, he wrote flamingly the descriptive couplet. When the teacher + returned and “books” were called he looked steadily at John + Briggs. He had recognized the penmanship. + </p> + <p> + “Did you do that?” he asked, ominously. + </p> + <p> + It was a time for truth. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said John. + </p> + <p> + “Come here!” And John came, and paid for his exploitation of + genius heavily. Sam Clemens expected that the next call would be for + “author,” but for some reason the investigation ended there. + It was unusual for him to escape. His back generally kept fairly warm from + one “frailing” to the next. + </p> + <p> + His rewards were not all of a punitive nature. There were two medals in + the school, one for spelling, the other for amiability. They were awarded + once a week, and the holders wore them about the neck conspicuously, and + were envied accordingly. John Robards—he of the golden curls—wore + almost continuously the medal for amiability, while Sam Clemens had a + mortgage on the medal for spelling. Sometimes they traded, to see how it + would seem, but the master discouraged this practice by taking the medals + away from them for the remainder of the week. Once Sam Clemens lost the + medal by leaving the first “r” out of February. He could have + spelled it backward, if necessary; but Laura Hawkins was the only one on + the floor against him, and he was a gallant boy. + </p> + <p> + The picture of that school as presented in the book written thirty years + later is faithful, we may believe, and the central figure is a + tender-hearted, romantic, devil-may-care lad, loathing application and + longing only for freedom. It was a boon which would come to him sooner + even than he had dreamed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIV. THE PASSING OF JOHN CLEMENS + </h2> + <p> + Judge Clemens, who time and again had wrecked or crippled his fortune by + devices more or less unusual, now adopted the one unfailing method of + achieving disaster. He endorsed a large note, for a man of good repute, + and the payment of it swept him clean: home, property, everything vanished + again. The St. Louis cousin took over the home and agreed to let the + family occupy it on payment of a small interest; but after an attempt at + housekeeping with a few scanty furnishings and Pamela's piano—all + that had been saved from the wreck—they moved across the street into + a portion of the Virginia house, then occupied by a Dr. Grant. The Grants + proposed that the Clemens family move over and board them, a welcome + arrangement enough at this time. + </p> + <p> + Judge Clemens had still a hope left. The clerkship of the Surrogate Court + was soon to be filled by election. It was an important remunerative + office, and he was regarded as the favorite candidate for the position. + His disaster had aroused general sympathy, and his nomination and election + were considered sure. He took no chances; he made a canvass on horseback + from house to house, often riding through rain and the chill of fall, + acquiring a cough which was hard to overcome. He was elected by a heavy + majority, and it was believed he could hold the office as long as he + chose. There seemed no further need of worry. As soon as he was installed + in office they would live in style becoming their social position. About + the end of February he rode to Palmyra to be sworn in. Returning he was + drenched by a storm of rain and sleet, arriving at last half frozen. His + system was in no condition to resist such a shock. Pneumonia followed; + physicians came with torments of plasters and allopathic dosings that + brought no relief. Orion returned from St. Louis to assist in caring for + him, and sat by his bed, encouraging him and reading to him, but it was + evident that he grew daily weaker. Now and then he became cheerful and + spoke of the Tennessee land as the seed of a vast fortune that must surely + flower at last. He uttered no regrets, no complaints. Once only he said: + </p> + <p> + “I believe if I had stayed in Tennessee I might have been worth + twenty thousand dollars to-day.” + </p> + <p> + On the morning of the 24th of March, 1847, it was evident that he could + not live many hours. He was very weak. When he spoke, now and then, it was + of the land. He said it would soon make them all rich and happy. + </p> + <p> + “Cling to the land,” he whispered. “Cling to the land, + and wait. Let nothing beguile it away from you.” + </p> + <p> + A little later he beckoned to Pamela, now a lovely girl of nineteen, and, + putting his arm about her neck, kissed her for the first time in years. + </p> + <p> + “Let me die,” he said. + </p> + <p> + He never spoke after that. A little more, and the sad, weary life that had + lasted less than forty-nine years was ended: A dreamer and a moralist, an + upright man honored by all, he had never been a financier. He ended life + with less than he had begun. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XV. A YOUNG BEN FRANKLIN + </h2> + <p> + For a third time death had entered the Clemens home: not only had it + brought grief now, but it had banished the light of new fortune from the + very threshold. The disaster seemed complete. + </p> + <p> + The children were dazed. Judge Clemens had been a distant, reserved man, + but they had loved him, each in his own way, and they had honored his + uprightness and nobility of purpose. Mrs. Clemens confided to a neighbor + that, in spite of his manner, her husband had been always warm-hearted, + with a deep affection for his family. They remembered that he had never + returned from a journey without bringing each one some present, however + trifling. Orion, looking out of his window next morning, saw old Abram + Kurtz, and heard him laugh. He wondered how anybody could still laugh. + </p> + <p> + The boy Sam was fairly broken down. Remorse, which always dealt with him + unsparingly, laid a heavy hand on him now. Wildness, disobedience, + indifference to his father's wishes, all were remembered; a hundred + things, in themselves trifling, became ghastly and heart-wringing in the + knowledge that they could never be undone. Seeing his grief, his mother + took him by the hand and led him into the room where his father lay. + </p> + <p> + “It is all right, Sammy,” she said. “What's done is + done, and it does not matter to him any more; but here by the side of him + now I want you to promise me——” + </p> + <p> + He turned, his eyes streaming with tears, and flung himself into her arms. + </p> + <p> + “I will promise anything,” he sobbed, “if you won't make + me go to school! Anything!” + </p> + <p> + His mother held him for a moment, thinking, then she said: + </p> + <p> + “No, Sammy; you need not go to school any more. Only promise me to + be a better boy. Promise not to break my heart.” + </p> + <p> + So he promised her to be a faithful and industrious man, and upright, like + his father. His mother was satisfied with that. The sense of honor and + justice was already strong within him. To him a promise was a serious + matter at any time; made under conditions like these it would be held + sacred. + </p> + <p> + That night—it was after the funeral—his tendency to + somnambulism manifested itself. His mother and sister, who were sleeping + together, saw the door open and a form in white enter. Naturally nervous + at such a time, and living in a day of almost universal superstition, they + were terrified and covered their heads. Presently a hand was laid on the + coverlet, first at the foot, then at the head of the bed. A thought struck + Mrs. Clemens: + </p> + <p> + “Sam!” she said. + </p> + <p> + He answered, but he was sound asleep and fell to the floor. He had risen + and thrown a sheet around him in his dreams. He walked in his sleep + several nights in succession after that. Then he slept more soundly. + </p> + <p> + Orion returned to St. Louis. He was a very good book and job printer by + this time and received a salary of ten dollars a week (high wages in those + frugal days), of which he sent three dollars weekly to the family. Pamela, + who had acquired a considerable knowledge of the piano and guitar, went to + the town of Paris, in Monroe County, about fifty miles away, and taught a + class of music pupils, contributing whatever remained after paying for her + board and clothing to the family fund. It was a hard task for the girl, + for she was timid and not over-strong; but she was resolute and patient, + and won success. Pamela Clemens was a noble character and deserves a + fuller history than can be afforded in this work. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Clemens and her son Samuel now had a sober talk, and, realizing that + the printing trade offered opportunity for acquiring further education as + well as a livelihood, they agreed that he should be apprenticed to Joseph + P. Ament, who had lately moved from Palmyra to Hannibal and bought a + weekly Democrat paper, the Missouri Courier. The apprentice terms were not + over-liberal. They were the usual thing for that time: board and clothes—“more + board than clothes, and not much of either,” Mark Twain used to say. + </p> + <p> + “I was supposed to get two suits of clothes a year, like a nigger, + but I didn't get them. I got one suit and took the rest out in Ament's old + garments, which didn't fit me in any noticeable way. I was only about half + as big as he was, and when I had on one of his shirts I felt as if I had + on a circus tent. I had to turn the trousers up to my ears to make them + short enough.” + </p> + <p> + There was another apprentice, a young fellow of about eighteen, named + Wales McCormick, a devilish fellow and a giant. Ament's clothes were too + small for Wales, but he had to wear them, and Sam Clemens and Wales + McCormick together, fitted out with Ament's clothes, must have been a + picturesque pair. There was also, for a time, a boy named Ralph; but he + appears to have presented no features of a striking sort, and the memory + of him has become dim. + </p> + <p> + The apprentices ate in the kitchen at first, served by the old slave-cook + and her handsome mulatto daughter; but those printer's “devils” + made it so lively there that in due time they were promoted to the family + table, where they sat with Mr. and Mrs. Ament and the one journeyman, Pet + McMurry—a name that in itself was an inspiration. What those young + scamps did not already know Pet McMurry could teach them. Sam Clemens had + promised to be a good boy, and he was, by the standards of boyhood. He was + industrious, regular at his work, quick to learn, kind, and truthful. + Angels could hardly be more than that in a printing-office; but when food + was scarce even an angel—a young printer angel—could hardly + resist slipping down the cellar stairs at night for raw potatoes, onions, + and apples which they carried into the office, where the boys slept on a + pallet on the floor, and this forage they cooked on the office stove. + Wales especially had a way of cooking a potato that his associate never + forgot. + </p> + <p> + It is unfortunate that no photographic portrait has been preserved of Sam + Clemens at this period. But we may imagine him from a letter which, long + years after, Pet McMurry wrote to Mark Twain. He said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + If your memory extends so far back, you will recall a little sandy- + haired boy—[The color of Mark Twain's hair in early life has been + variously referred to as red, black, and brown. It was, in fact, as + stated by McMurry, “sandy” in boyhood, deepening later to that rich, + mahogany tone known as auburn.]—of nearly a quarter of a century + ago, in the printing-office at Hannibal, over the Brittingham + drugstore, mounted upon a little box at the case, pulling away at a + huge cigar or a diminutive pipe, who used to love to sing so well + the expression of the poor drunken man who was supposed to have + fallen by the wayside: “If ever I get up again, I'll stay up—if I + kin.”... Do you recollect any of the serious conflicts that + mirth-loving brain of yours used to get you into with that + diminutive creature Wales McCormick—how you used to call upon me to + hold your cigar or pipe, whilst you went entirely through him? +</pre> + <p> + This is good testimony, without doubt. When he had been with Ament little + more than a year Sam had become office favorite and chief standby. + Whatever required intelligence and care and imagination was given to Sam + Clemens. He could set type as accurately and almost as rapidly as Pet + McMurry; he could wash up the forms a good deal better than Pet; and he + could run the job-press to the tune of “Annie Laurie” or + “Along the Beach at Rockaway,” without missing a stroke or + losing a finger. Sometimes, at odd moments, he would “set up” + one of the popular songs or some favorite poem like “The Blackberry + Girl,” and of these he sent copies printed on cotton, even on scraps + of silk, to favorite girl friends; also to Puss Quarles, on his uncle's + farm, where he seldom went now, because he was really grown up, + associating with men and doing a man's work. He had charge of the + circulation—which is to say, he carried the papers. During the last + year of the Mexican War, when a telegraph-wire found its way across the + Mississippi to Hannibal—a long sagging span, that for some reason + did not break of its own weight—he was given charge of the extras + with news from the front; and the burning importance of his mission, the + bringing of news hot from the field of battle, spurred him to endeavors + that won plaudits and success. + </p> + <p> + He became a sort of subeditor. When the forms of the paper were ready to + close and Ament was needed to supply more matter, it was Sam who was + delegated to find that rather uncertain and elusive person and labor with + him until the required copy was produced. Thus it was he saw literature in + the making. + </p> + <p> + It is not believed that Sam had any writing ambitions of his own. His + chief desire was to be an all-round journeyman printer like Pet McMurry; + to drift up and down the world in Pet's untrammeled fashion; to see all + that Pet had seen and a number of things which Pet appeared to have + overlooked. He varied on occasion from this ambition. When the first negro + minstrel show visited Hannibal and had gone, he yearned for a brief period + to be a magnificent “middle man” or even the “end-man” + of that combination; when the circus came and went, he dreamed of the day + when, a capering frescoed clown, he would set crowded tiers of spectators + guffawing at his humor; when the traveling hypnotist arrived, he + volunteered as a subject, and amazed the audience by the marvel of his + performance. + </p> + <p> + In later life he claimed that he had not been hypnotized in any degree, + but had been pretending throughout—a statement always denied by his + mother and his brother Orion. This dispute was never settled, and never + could be. Sam Clemens's tendency to somnambulism would seem to suggest + that he really might have taken on a hypnotic condition, while his + consummate skill as an actor, then and always, and his early fondness of + exhibition and a joke, would make it not unlikely that he was merely + “showing off” and having his fun. He could follow the dictates + of a vivid imagination and could be as outrageous as he chose without + incurring responsibility of any sort. But there was a penalty: he must + allow pins and needles to be thrust into his flesh and suffer these + tortures without showing discomfort to the spectators. It is difficult to + believe that any boy, however great his exhibitory passion, could permit, + in the full possession of his sensibilities, a needle to be thrust deeply + into his flesh without manifestations of a most unmesmeric sort. The + conclusion seems warranted that he began by pretending, but that at times + he was at least under semi-mesmeric control. At all events, he enjoyed a + week of dazzling triumph, though in the end he concluded to stick to + printing as a trade. + </p> + <p> + We have said that he was a rapid learner and a neat workman. At Ament's he + generally had a daily task, either of composition or press-work, after + which he was free. When he had got the hang of his work he was usually + done by three in the afternoon; then away to the river or the cave, as in + the old days, sometimes with his boy friends, sometimes with Laura Hawkins + gathering wild columbine on that high cliff overlooking the river, Lover's + Leap. + </p> + <p> + He was becoming quite a beau, attending parties on occasion, where + old-fashioned games—Forfeits, Ring-around-a-Rosy, Dusty Miller, and + the like—were regarded as rare amusements. He was a favorite with + girls of his own age. He was always good-natured, though he played jokes + on them, too, and was often a severe trial. He was with Laura Hawkins more + than the others, usually her escort. On Saturday afternoons in winter he + carried her skates to Bear Creek and helped her to put them on. After + which they skated “partners,” holding hands tightly, and were + a likely pair of children, no doubt. In The Gilded Age Laura Hawkins at + twelve is pictured “with her dainty hands propped into the + ribbon-bordered pockets of her apron... a vision to warm the coldest heart + and bless and cheer the saddest.” The author had the real Laura of + his childhood in his mind when he wrote that, though the story itself + bears no resemblance to her life. + </p> + <p> + They were never really sweethearts, those two. They were good friends and + comrades. Sometimes he brought her magazines—exchanges from the + printing—office—Godey's and others. These were a treat, for + such things were scarce enough. He cared little for reading, himself, + beyond a few exciting tales, though the putting into type of a good deal + of miscellaneous matter had beyond doubt developed in him a taste for + general knowledge. It needed only to be awakened. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVI. THE TURNING-POINT + </h2> + <p> + There came into his life just at this period one of those seemingly + trifling incidents which, viewed in retrospect, assume pivotal + proportions. He was on his way from the office to his home one afternoon + when he saw flying along the pavement a square of paper, a leaf from a + book. At an earlier time he would not have bothered with it at all, but + any printed page had acquired a professional interest for him now. He + caught the flying scrap and examined it. It was a leaf from some history + of Joan of Arc. The “maid” was described in the cage at Rouen, + in the fortress, and the two ruffian English soldiers had stolen her + clothes. There was a brief description and a good deal of dialogue—her + reproaches and their ribald replies. + </p> + <p> + He had never heard of the subject before. He had never read any history. + When he wanted to know any fact he asked Henry, who read everything + obtainable. Now, however, there arose within him a deep compassion for the + gentle Maid of Orleans, a burning resentment toward her captors, a + powerful and indestructible interest in her sad history. It was an + interest that would grow steadily for more than half a lifetime and + culminate at last in that crowning work, the Recollections, the loveliest + story ever told of the martyred girl. + </p> + <p> + The incident meant even more than that: it meant the awakening of his + interest in all history—the world's story in its many phases—a + passion which became the largest feature of his intellectual life and + remained with him until his very last day on earth. From the moment when + that fluttering leaf was blown into his hands his career as one of the + world's mentally elect was assured. It gave him his cue—the first + word of a part in the human drama. It crystallized suddenly within him + sympathy with the oppressed, rebellion against tyranny and treachery, + scorn for the divine rights of kings. A few months before he died he wrote + a paper on “The Turning-point of My Life.” For some reason he + did not mention this incident. Yet if there was a turning-point in his + life, he reached it that bleak afternoon on the streets of Hannibal when a + stray leaf from another life was blown into his hands. + </p> + <p> + He read hungrily now everything he could find relating to the French wars, + and to Joan in particular. He acquired an appetite for history in general, + the record of any nation or period; he seemed likely to become a student. + Presently he began to feel the need of languages, French and German. There + was no opportunity to acquire French, that he could discover, but there + was a German shoemaker in Hannibal who agreed to teach his native tongue. + Sam Clemens got a friend—very likely it was John Briggs—to + form a class with him, and together they arranged for lessons. The + shoemaker had little or no English. They had no German. It would seem, + however, that their teacher had some sort of a “word-book,” + and when they assembled in his little cubby-hole of a retreat he began + reading aloud from it this puzzling sentence: + </p> + <p> + “De hain eet flee whoop in de hayer.” + </p> + <p> + “Dere!” he said, triumphantly; “you know dose vord?” + </p> + <p> + The students looked at each other helplessly. + </p> + <p> + The teacher repeated the sentence, and again they were helpless when he + asked if they recognized it. + </p> + <p> + Then in despair he showed them the book. It was an English primer, and the + sentence was: + </p> + <p> + “The hen, it flies up in the air.” + </p> + <p> + They explained to him gently that it was German they wished to learn, not + English—not under the circumstances. Later, Sam made an attempt at + Latin, and got a book for that purpose, but gave it up, saying: + </p> + <p> + “No, that language is not for me. I'll do well enough to learn + English.” A boy who took it up with him became a Latin scholar. + </p> + <p> + His prejudice against oppression he put into practice. Boys who were being + imposed upon found in him a ready protector. Sometimes, watching a game of + marbles or tops, he would remark in his slow, impressive way: + </p> + <p> + “You mustn't cheat that boy.” And the cheating stopped. When + it didn't, there was a combat, with consequences. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVII. THE HANNIBAL “JOURNAL” + </h2> + <p> + Orion returned from St. Louis. He felt that he was needed in Hannibal and, + while wages there were lower, his expenses at home were slight; there was + more real return for the family fund. His sister Pamela was teaching a + class in Hannibal at this time. Orion was surprised when his mother and + sister greeted him with kisses and tears. Any outward display of affection + was new to him. + </p> + <p> + The family had moved back across the street by this time. With Sam + supporting himself, the earnings of Orion and Pamela provided at least a + semblance of comfort. But Orion was not satisfied. Then, as always, he had + a variety of vague ambitions. Oratory appealed to him, and he delivered a + temperance lecture with an accompaniment of music, supplied chiefly by + Pamela. He aspired to the study of law, a recurring inclination throughout + his career. He also thought of the ministry, an ambition which Sam shared + with him for a time. Every mischievous boy has it, sooner or later, though + not all for the same reasons. + </p> + <p> + “It was the most earnest ambition I ever had,” Mark Twain once + remarked, thoughtfully. “Not that I ever really wanted to be a + preacher, but because it never occurred to me that a preacher could be + damned. It looked like a safe job.” + </p> + <p> + A periodical ambition of Orion's was to own and conduct a paper in + Hannibal. He felt that in such a position he might become a power in + Western journalism. Once his father had considered buying the Hannibal + Journal to give Orion a chance, and possibly to further his own political + ambitions. Now Orion considered it for himself. The paper was for sale + under a mortgage, and he was enabled to borrow the $500 which would secure + ownership. Sam's two years at Ament's were now complete, and Orion induced + him to take employment on the Journal. Henry at eleven was taken out of + school to learn typesetting. + </p> + <p> + Orion was a gentle, accommodating soul, but he lacked force and + independence. + </p> + <p> + “I followed all the advice I received,” he says in his record. + “If two or more persons conflicted with each other, I adopted the + views of the last.” + </p> + <p> + He started full of enthusiasm. He worked like a slave to save help: wrote + his own editorials, and made his literary selections at night. The others + worked too. Orion gave them hard tasks and long hours. He had the feeling + that the paper meant fortune or failure to them all; that all must labor + without stint. In his usual self-accusing way he wrote afterward: + </p> + <p> + I was tyrannical and unjust to Sam. He was as swift and as clean as a good + journeyman. I gave him tasks, and if he got through well I begrudged him + the time and made him work more. He set a clean proof, and Henry a very + dirty one. The correcting was left to be done in the form the day before + publication. Once we were kept late, and Sam complained with tears of + bitterness that he was held till midnight on Henry's dirty proofs. + </p> + <p> + Orion did not realize any injustice at the time. The game was too + desperate to be played tenderly. His first editorials were so brilliant + that it was not believed he could have written them. The paper throughout + was excellent, and seemed on the high road to success. But the pace was + too hard to maintain. Overwork brought weariness, and Orion's enthusiasm, + never a very stable quantity, grew feeble. He became still more exacting. + </p> + <p> + It is not to be supposed that Sam Clemens had given up all amusements to + become merely a toiling drudge or had conquered in any large degree his + natural taste for amusement. He had become more studious; but after the + long, hard days in the office it was not to be expected that a boy of + fifteen would employ the evening—at least not every evening—in + reading beneficial books. The river was always near at hand—for + swimming in the summer and skating in the winter—and once even at + this late period it came near claiming a heavy tribute. That was one + winter's night when with another boy he had skated until nearly midnight. + They were about in the middle of the river when they heard a terrific and + grinding noise near the shore. They knew what it was. The ice was breaking + up, and they set out for home forthwith. It was moonlight, and they could + tell the ice from the water, which was a good thing, for there were wide + cracks toward the shore, and they had to wait for these to close. They + were an hour making the trip, and just before they reached the bank they + came to a broad space of water. The ice was lifting and falling and + crunching all around them. They waited as long as they dared and decided + to leap from cake to cake. Sam made the crossing without accident, but his + companion slipped in when a few feet from shore. He was a good swimmer and + landed safely, but the bath probably cost him his hearing. He was taken + very ill. One disease followed another, ending with scarlet fever and + deafness. + </p> + <p> + There was also entertainment in the office itself. A country boy named Jim + Wolfe had come to learn the trade—a green, good-natured, bashful + boy. In every trade tricks are played on the new apprentice, and Sam felt + that it was his turn to play them. With John Briggs to help him, tortures + for Jim Wolfe were invented and applied. + </p> + <p> + They taught him to paddle a canoe, and upset him. They took him sniping at + night and left him “holding the bag” in the old traditional + fashion while they slipped off home and went to bed. + </p> + <p> + But Jim Wolfe's masterpiece of entertainment was one which he undertook on + his own account. Pamela was having a candy-pull down-stairs one night—a + grown-up candy-pull to which the boys were not expected. Jim would not + have gone, anyway, for he was bashful beyond belief, and always dumb, and + even pale with fear, in the presence of pretty Pamela Clemens. Up in their + room the boys could hear the merriment from below and could look out in + the moonlight on the snowy sloping roof that began just beneath their + window. Down at the eaves was the small arbor, green in summer, but + covered now with dead vines and snow. They could hear the candymakers come + out, now and then, doubtless setting out pans of candy to cool. By and by + the whole party seemed to come out into the little arbor, to try the + candy, perhaps the joking and laughter came plainly to the boys up-stairs. + About this time there appeared on the roof from somewhere two disreputable + cats, who set up a most disturbing duel of charge and recrimination. Jim + detested the noise, and perhaps was gallant enough to think it would + disturb the party. He had nothing to throw at them, but he said: + </p> + <p> + “For two cents I'd get out there and knock their heads off.” + </p> + <p> + “You wouldn't dare to do it,” Sam said, purringly. + </p> + <p> + This was wormwood to Jim. He was really a brave spirit. + </p> + <p> + “I would too,” he said, “and I will if you say that + again.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Jim, of course you wouldn't dare to go out there. You might + catch cold.” + </p> + <p> + “You wait and see,” said Jim Wolfe. + </p> + <p> + He grabbed a pair of yarn stockings for his feet, raised the window, and + crept out on the snowy roof. There was a crust of ice on the snow, but Jim + jabbed his heels through it and stood up in the moonlight, his legs bare, + his single garment flapping gently in the light winter breeze. Then he + started slowly toward the cats, sinking his heels in the snow each time + for a footing, a piece of lath in his hand. The cats were on the corner of + the roof above the arbor, and Jim cautiously worked his way in that + direction. The roof was not very steep. He was doing well enough until he + came to a place where the snow had melted until it was nearly solid ice. + He was so intent on the cats that he did not notice this, and when he + struck his heel down to break the crust nothing yielded. A second later + Jim's feet had shot out from under him, and he vaulted like an avalanche + down the icy roof out on the little vine-clad arbor, and went crashing + through among those candypullers, gathered there with their pans of + cooling taffy. There were wild shrieks and a general flight. Neither Jim + nor Sam ever knew how he got back to their room, but Jim was overcome with + the enormity of his offense, while Sam was in an agony of laughter. + </p> + <p> + “You did it splendidly, Jim,” he drawled, when he could speak. + “Nobody could have done it better; and did you see how those cats + got out of there? I never had any idea when you started that you meant to + do it that way. And it was such a surprise to the folks down-stairs. How + did you ever think of it?” + </p> + <p> + It was a fearful ordeal for a boy like Jim Wolfe, but he stuck to his + place in spite of what he must have suffered. The boys made him one of + them soon after that. His initiation was thought to be complete. + </p> + <p> + An account of Jim Wolfe and the cats was the first original story Mark + Twain ever told. He told it next day, which was Sunday, to Jimmy McDaniel, + the baker's son, as they sat looking out over the river, eating + gingerbread. His hearer laughed immoderately, and the story-teller was + proud and happy in his success. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVIII. THE BEGINNING OF A LITERARY LIFE + </h2> + <p> + Orion's paper continued to go downhill. Following some random counsel, he + changed the name of it and advanced the price—two blunders. Then he + was compelled to reduce the subscription, also the advertising rates. He + was obliged to adopt a descending scale of charges and expenditures to + keep pace with his declining circulation—a fatal sign. A publisher + must lead his subscription list, not follow it. + </p> + <p> + “I was walking backward,” he said, “not seeing where I + stepped.” + </p> + <p> + In desperation he broke away and made a trip to Tennessee to see if + something could not be realized on the land, leaving his brother Sam in + charge of the office. It was a journey without financial results; yet it + bore fruit, for it marked the beginning of Mark Twain's literary career. + </p> + <p> + Sam, in his brother's absence, concluded to edit the paper in a way that + would liven up the circulation. He had never done any writing—not + for print—but he had the courage of his inclinations. His local + items were of a kind known as “spicy”; his personals brought + prompt demand for satisfaction. The editor of a rival paper had been in + love, and was said to have gone to the river one night to drown himself. + Sam gave a picturesque account of this, with all the names connected with + the affair. Then he took a couple of big wooden block letters, turned them + upside down, and engraved illustrations for it, showing the victim wading + out into the river with a stick to test the depth of the water. When this + issue of the paper came out the demand for it was very large. The press + had to be kept running steadily to supply copies. The satirized editor at + first swore that he would thrash the whole journal office, then he left + town and did not come back any more. The embryo Mark Twain also wrote a + poem. It was addressed “To Mary in Hannibal,” but the title + was too long to be set in one column, so he left out all the letters in + Hannibal, except the first and the last, and supplied their place with a + dash, with a startling result. Such were the early flickerings of a + smoldering genius. Orion returned, remonstrated, and apologized. He + reduced Sam to the ranks. In later years he saw his mistake. + </p> + <p> + “I could have distanced all competitors even then,” he said, + “if I had recognized Sam's ability and let him go ahead, merely + keeping him from offending worthy persons.” + </p> + <p> + Sam was subdued, but not done for. He never would be, now. He had got his + first taste of print, and he liked it. He promptly wrote two anecdotes + which he thought humorous and sent them to the Philadelphia Saturday + Evening Post. They were accepted—without payment, of course, in + those days; and when the papers containing them appeared he felt suddenly + lifted to a lofty plane of literature. This was in 1851. + </p> + <p> + “Seeing them in print was a joy which rather exceeded anything in + that line I have ever experienced since,” he said, nearly sixty + years later. + </p> + <p> + Yet he did not feel inspired to write anything further for the Post. Twice + during the next two years he contributed to the Journal; once something + about Jim Wolfe, though it was not the story of the cats, and another + burlesque on a rival editor whom he pictured as hunting snipe with a + cannon, the explosion of which was said to have blown the snipe out of the + country. No contributions of this time have been preserved. High prices + have been offered for copies of the Hannibal journal containing them, but + without success. The Post sketches were unsigned and have not been + identified. It is likely they were trivial enough. His earliest work + showed no special individuality or merit, being mainly crude and + imitative, as the work of a boy—even a precocious boy—is + likely to be. He was not especially precocious—not in literature. + His literary career would halt and hesitate and trifle along for many + years yet, gathering impetus and equipment for the fuller, statelier swing + which would bring a greater joy to the world at large, even if not to + himself, than that first, far-off triumph.—[In Mark Twain's sketch + “My First Literary Venture” he has set down with + characteristic embroideries some account of this early authorship.] + </p> + <p> + Those were hard financial days. Orion could pay nothing on his mortgage—barely + the interest. He had promised Sam three dollars and a half a week, but he + could do no more than supply him with board and clothes—“poor, + shabby clothes,” he says in his record. + </p> + <p> + “My mother and sister did the housekeeping. My mother was cook. She + used the provisions I supplied her. We therefore had a regular diet of + bacon, butter, bread, and coffee.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Clemens again took a few boarders; Pamela, who had given up teaching + for a time, organized another music class. Orion became despondent. One + night a cow got into the office, upset a typecase, and ate up two + composition rollers. Orion felt that fate was dealing with a heavy hand. + Another disaster quickly followed. Fire broke out in the office, and the + loss was considerable. An insurance company paid one hundred and fifty + dollars. With it Orion replaced such articles as were absolutely needed + for work, and removed his plant into the front room of the Clemens + dwelling. He raised the one-story part of the building to give them an + added room up-stairs; and there for another two years, by hard work and + pinching economies, the dying paper managed to drag along. It was the fire + that furnished Sam Clemens with his Jim Wolfe sketch. In it he stated that + Jim in his excitement had carried the office broom half a mile and had + then come back after the wash-pan. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime Pamela Clemens married. Her husband was a well-to-do + merchant, William A. Moffett, formerly of Hannibal, but then of St. Louis, + where he had provided her with the comforts of a substantial home. + </p> + <p> + Orion tried the experiment of a serial story. He wrote to a number of + well-known authors in the East, but was unable to find one who would + supply a serial for the price he was willing to pay. Finally he obtained a + translation of a French novel for the sum offered, which was five dollars. + It did not save the sinking ship, however. He made the experiment of a + tri-weekly, without success. He noticed that even his mother no longer + read his editorials, but turned to the general news. This was a final + blow. + </p> + <p> + “I sat down in the dark,” he says, “the moon glinting in + at the open door. I sat with one leg over the chair and let my mind float.” + </p> + <p> + He had received an offer of five hundred dollars for his office—the + amount of the mortgage—and in his moonlight reverie he decided to + dispose of it on those terms. This was in 1853. + </p> + <p> + His brother Samuel was no longer with him. Several months before, in June, + Sam decided he would go out into the world. He was in his eighteenth year + now, a good workman, faithful and industrious, but he had grown restless + in unrewarded service. Beyond his mastery of the trade he had little to + show for six years of hard labor. Once when he had asked Orion for a few + dollars to buy a second-hand gun, Orion, exasperated by desperate + circumstances, fell into a passion and rated him for thinking of such + extravagance. Soon afterward Sam confided to his mother that he was going + away; that he believed Orion hated him; that there was no longer a place + for him at home. He said he would go to St. Louis, where Pamela was. There + would be work for him in St. Louis, and he could send money home. His + intention was to go farther than St. Louis, but he dared not tell her. His + mother put together sadly enough the few belongings of what she regarded + as her one wayward boy; then she held up a little Testament: + </p> + <p> + “I want you to take hold of the other end of this, Sam,” she + said, “and make me a promise.” + </p> + <p> + If one might have a true picture of that scene: the shin, wiry woman of + forty-nine, her figure as straight as her deportment, gray-eyed, tender, + and resolute, facing the fair-cheeked, auburn-haired youth of seventeen, + his eyes as piercing and unwavering as her own. Mother and son, they were + of the same metal and the same mold. + </p> + <p> + “I want you to repeat after me, Sam, these words,” Jane + Clemens said. “I do solemnly swear that I will not throw a card or + drink a drop of liquor while I am gone.” + </p> + <p> + He repeated the oath after her, and she kissed him. + </p> + <p> + “Remember that, Sam, and write to us,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “And so,” Orion records, “he went wandering in search of + that comfort and that advancement and those rewards of industry which he + had failed to find where I was—gloomy, taciturn, and selfish. I not + only missed his labor; we all missed his bounding activity and merriment.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIX. IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF FRANKLIN + </h2> + <p> + He went to St. Louis by the night boat, visited his sister Pamela, and + found a job in the composing-room of the Evening News. He remained on the + paper only long enough to earn money with which to see the world. The + “world” was New York City, where the Crystal Palace Fair was + then going on. The railway had been completed by this time, but he had not + traveled on it. It had not many comforts; several days and nights were + required for the New York trip; yet it was a wonderful and beautiful + experience. He felt that even Pet McMurry could hardly have done anything + to surpass it. He arrived in New York with two or three dollars in his + pocket and a ten-dollar bill concealed in the lining of his coat. + </p> + <p> + New York was a great and amazing city. It almost frightened him. It + covered the entire lower end of Manhattan Island; visionary citizens + boasted that one day it would cover it all. The World's Fair building, the + Crystal Palace, stood a good way out. It was where Bryant Park is now, on + Forty-second Street and Sixth Avenue. Young Clemens classed it as one of + the wonders of the world and wrote lavishly of its marvels. A portion of a + letter to his sister Pamela has been preserved and is given here not only + for what it contains, but as the earliest existing specimen of his + composition. The fragment concludes what was doubtless an exhaustive + description. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + From the gallery (second floor) you have a glorious sight—the flags + of the different countries represented, the lofty dome, glittering + jewelry, gaudy tapestry, etc., with the busy crowd passing to and + fro 'tis a perfect fairy palace—beautiful beyond description. + + The machinery department is on the main floor, but I cannot + enumerate any of it on account of the lateness of the hour (past 1 + o'clock). It would take more than a week to examine everything on + exhibition; and I was only in a little over two hours to-night. + I only glanced at about one-third of the articles; and, having a + poor memory, I have enumerated scarcely any of even the principal + objects. The visitors to the Palace average 6,000 daily—double the + population of Hannibal. The price of admission being 50 cents, they + take in about $3,000. + + The Latting Observatory (height about 280 feet) is near the Palace + —from it you can obtain a grand view of the city and the country + around. The Croton Aqueduct, to supply the city with water, is the + greatest wonder yet. Immense sewers are laid across the bed of the + Hudson River, and pass through the country to Westchester County, + where a whole river is turned from its course and brought to New + York. From the reservoir in the city to the Westchester County + reservoir the distance is thirty-eight miles and, if necessary, they + could easily supply every family in New York with one hundred + barrels of water per day! + + I am very sorry to learn that Henry has been sick. He ought to go + to the country and take exercise, for he is not half so healthy as + Ma thinks he is. If he had my walking to do, he would be another + boy entirely. Four times every day I walk a little over a mile; and + working hard all day and walking four miles is exercise. I am used + to it now, though, and it is no trouble. Where is it Orion's going + to? Tell Ma my promises are faithfully kept; and if I have my + health I will take her to Ky. in the spring—I shall save money for + this. Tell Jim (Wolfe) and all the rest of them to write, and give + me all the news.... + + (It has just struck 2 A.M., and I always get up at 6, and am at work + at 7.) You ask where I spend my evenings. Where would you suppose, + with a free printer's library containing more than 4,000 volumes + within a quarter of a mile of me, and nobody at home to talk to? + Write soon. + + Truly your brother, SAM + + P.S.-I have written this by a light so dim that you nor Ma could not + read by it. Write, and let me know how Henry is. +</pre> + <p> + It is a good letter; it is direct and clear in its descriptive quality, + and it gives us a scale of things. Double the population of Hannibal + visited the Crystal Palace in one day! and the water to supply the city + came a distance of thirty-eight miles! Doubtless these were amazing + statistics. + </p> + <p> + Then there was the interest in family affairs—always strong—his + concern for Henry, whom he loved tenderly; his memory of the promise to + his mother; his understanding of her craving to visit her old home. He did + not write to her direct, for the reason that Orion's plans were then + uncertain, and it was not unlikely that he had already found a new + location. From this letter, too, we learn that the boy who detested school + was reveling in a library of four thousand books—more than he had + ever seen together before. We have somehow the feeling that he had all at + once stepped from boyhood to manhood, and that the separation was marked + by a very definite line. + </p> + <p> + The work he had secured was in Cliff Street in the printing establishment + of John A. Gray & Green, who agreed to pay him four dollars a week, + and did pay that amount in wildcat money, which saved them about + twenty-five per cent. of the sum. He lodged at a mechanics' boarding-house + in Duane Street, and when he had paid his board and washing he sometimes + had as much as fifty cents to lay away. + </p> + <p> + He did not like the board. He had been accustomed to the Southern mode of + cooking, and wrote home complaining that New-Yorkers did not have “hot-bread” + or biscuits, but ate “light-bread,” which they allowed to get + stale, seeming to prefer it in that way. On the whole, there was not much + inducement to remain in New York after he had satisfied himself with its + wonders. He lingered, however, through the hot months of 1853, and found + it not easy to go. In October he wrote to Pamela, suggesting plans for + Orion; also for Henry and Jim Wolfe, whom he seems never to have + overlooked. Among other things he says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have not written to any of the family for some time, from the + fact, firstly, that I didn't know where they were, and, secondly, + because I have been fooling myself with the idea that I was going to + leave New York every day for the last two weeks. I have taken a + liking to the abominable place, and every time I get ready to leave + I put it off a day or so, from some unaccountable cause. I think I + shall get off Tuesday, though. + + Edwin Forrest has been playing for the last sixteen days at the + Broadway Theater, but I never went to see him till last night. The + play was the “Gladiator.” I did not like parts of it much, but + other portions were really splendid. In the latter part of the last + act, where the “Gladiator” (Forrest) dies at his brother's feet (in + all the fierce pleasure of gratified revenge), the man's whole soul + seems absorbed in the part he is playing; and it is really startling + to see him. I am sorry I did not see him play “Damon and Pythias” + —the former character being the greatest. He appears in Philadelphia + on Monday night. + + I have not received a letter from home lately, but got a “Journal” + the other day, in which I see the office has been sold.... + + If my letters do not come often, you need not bother yourself about + me; for if you have a brother nearly eighteen years of age who is + not able to take care of himself a few miles from home, such a + brother is not worth one's thoughts; and if I don't manage to take + care of No. 1, be assured you will never know it. I am not afraid, + however; I shall ask favors of no one and endeavor to be (and shall + be) as “independent as a wood-sawyer's clerk.”... + + Passage to Albany (160 miles) on the finest steamers that ply the + Hudson is now 25 cents—cheap enough, but is generally cheaper than + that in the summer. +</pre> + <p> + “I have been fooling myself with the idea that I was going to leave + New York” is distinctly a Mark Twain phrase. He might have said that + fifty years later. + </p> + <p> + He did go to Philadelphia presently and found work “subbing” + on a daily paper, 'The Inquirer.' He was a fairly swift compositor. He + could set ten thousand ems a day, and he received pay according to the + amount of work done. Days or evenings when there was no vacant place for + him to fill he visited historic sites, the art-galleries, and the + libraries. He was still acquiring education, you see. Sometimes at night + when he returned to his boardinghouse his room-mate, an Englishman named + Sumner, grilled a herring, and this was regarded as a feast. He tried his + hand at writing in Philadelphia, though this time without success. For + some reason he did not again attempt to get into the Post, but offered his + contributions to the Philadelphia 'Ledger'—mainly poetry of an + obituary kind. Perhaps it was burlesque; he never confessed that, but it + seems unlikely that any other obituary poetry would have failed of print. + </p> + <p> + “My efforts were not received with approval,” was all he ever + said of it afterward. + </p> + <p> + There were two or three characters in the 'Inquirer' office whom he did + not forget. One of these was an old compositor who had “held a case” + in that office for many years. His name was Frog, and sometimes when he + went away the “office devils” would hang a line over his case, + with a hook on it baited with a piece of red flannel. They never got tired + of this joke, and Frog was always able to get as mad over it as he had + been in the beginning. Another old fellow there furnished amusement. He + owned a house in the distant part of the city and had an abnormal fear of + fire. Now and then, when everything was quiet except the clicking of the + types, some one would step to the window and say with a concerned air: + </p> + <p> + “Doesn't that smoke—[or that light, if it was evening]—seem + to be in the northwestern part of the city?” or “There go the + fire-bells again!” and away the old man would tramp up to the roof + to investigate. It was not the most considerate sport, and it is to be + feared that Sam Clemens had his share in it. + </p> + <p> + He found that he liked Philadelphia. He could save a little money there, + for one thing, and now and then sent something to his mother—small + amounts, but welcome and gratifying, no doubt. In a letter to Orion—whom + he seems to have forgiven with absence—written October 26th, he + incloses a gold dollar to buy her a handkerchief, and “to serve as a + specimen of the kind of stuff we are paid with in Philadelphia.” + Further along he adds: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Unlike New York, I like this Philadelphia amazingly, and the people + in it. There is only one thing that gets my “dander” up—and that + is the hands are always encouraging me: telling me “it's no use to + get discouraged—no use to be downhearted, for there is more work + here than you can do!” “Downhearted,” the devil! I have not had a + particle of such a feeling since I left Hannibal, more than four + months ago. I fancy they'll have to wait some time till they see me + downhearted or afraid of starving while I have strength to work and + am in a city of 400,000 inhabitants. When I was in Hannibal, before + I had scarcely stepped out of the town limits, nothing could have + convinced me that I would starve as soon as I got a little way from + home. +</pre> + <p> + He mentions the grave of Franklin in Christ Churchyard with its + inscription “Benjamin and Deborah Franklin,” and one is + sharply reminded of the similarity between the early careers of Benjamin + Franklin and Samuel Clemens. Each learned the printer's trade; each worked + in his brother's printing-office and wrote for the paper; each left + quietly and went to New York, and from New York to Philadelphia, as a + journeyman printer; each in due season became a world figure, many-sided, + human, and of incredible popularity. + </p> + <p> + The foregoing letter ends with a long description of a trip made on the + Fairmount stage. It is a good, vivid description—impressions of a + fresh, sensitive mind, set down with little effort at fine writing; a + letter to convey literal rather than literary enjoyment. The Wire Bridge, + Fairmount Park and Reservoir, new buildings—all these passed in + review. A fine residence about completed impressed him: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It was built entirely of great blocks of red granite. The pillars + in front were all finished but one. These pillars were beautiful, + ornamental fluted columns, considerably larger than a hogshead at + the base, and about as high as Clapinger's second-story front + windows.... To see some of them finished and standing, and + then the huge blocks lying about, looks so massy, and carries one, + in imagination, to the ruined piles of ancient Babylon. I despise + the infernal bogus brick columns plastered over with mortar. Marble + is the cheapest building-stone about Philadelphia. +</pre> + <p> + There is a flavor of the 'Innocents' about it; then a little further + along: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I saw small steamboats, with their signs up—“For Wissahickon and + Manayunk 25 cents.” Geo. Lippard, in his Legends of Washington and + his Generals, has rendered the Wissahickon sacred in my eyes, and I + shall make that trip, as well as one to Germantown, soon.... + + There is one fine custom observed in Phila. A gentleman is always + expected to hand up a lady's money for her. Yesterday I sat in the + front end of the bus, directly under the driver's box—a lady sat + opposite me. She handed me her money, which was right. But, Lord! + a St. Louis lady would think herself ruined if she should be so + familiar with a stranger. In St. Louis a man will sit in the front + end of the stage, and see a lady stagger from the far end to pay her + fare. +</pre> + <p> + There are two more letters from Philadelphia: one of November, 28th, to + Orion, who by this time had bought a paper in Muscatine, Iowa, and located + the family there; and one to Pamela dated December 5th. Evidently Orion + had realized that his brother might be of value as a contributor, for the + latter says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I will try to write for the paper occasionally, but I fear my + letters will be very uninteresting, for this incessant night work + dulls one's ideas amazingly.... I believe I am the only person in + the Inquirer office that does not drink. One young fellow makes $18 + for a few weeks, and gets on a grand “bender” and spends every cent + of it. + + How do you like “free soil”?—I would like amazingly to see a good + old-fashioned negro. My love to all. + + Truly your brother, SAM +</pre> + <p> + In the letter to Pamela he is clearly homesick. + </p> + <p> + “I only want to return to avoid night work, which is injuring my + eyes,” is the excuse, but in the next sentence he complains of the + scarcity of letters from home and those “not written as they should + be.” “One only has to leave home to learn how to write + interesting letters to an absent friend,” he says, and in + conclusion, “I don't like our present prospect for cold weather at + all.” + </p> + <p> + He had been gone half a year, and the first attack of home-longing, for a + boy of his age, was due. The novelty of things had worn off; it was coming + on winter; changes had taken place among his home people and friends; the + life he had known best and longest was going on and he had no part in it. + Leaning over his case, he sometimes hummed: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain.” + </pre> + <p> + He weathered the attack and stuck it out for more than half a year longer. + In January, when the days were dark and he grew depressed, he made a trip + to Washington to see the sights of the capital. His stay was comparatively + brief, and he did not work there. He returned to Philadelphia, working for + a time on the Ledger and North American. Finally he went back to New York. + There are no letters of this period. His second experience in New York + appears not to have been recorded, and in later years was only vaguely + remembered. It was late in the summer of 1854 when he finally set out on + his return to the West. His 'Wanderjahr' had lasted nearly fifteen months. + </p> + <p> + He went directly to St. Louis, sitting up three days and nights in a + smoking-car to make the journey. He was worn out when he arrived, but + stopped there only a few hours to see Pamela. It was his mother he was + anxious for. He took the Keokuk Packet that night, and, flinging himself + on his berth, slept the clock three times around, scarcely rousing or + turning over, only waking at last at Muscatine. For a long time that + missing day confused his calculations. + </p> + <p> + When he reached Orion's house the family sat at breakfast. He came in + carrying a gun. They had not been expecting him, and there was a general + outcry, and a rush in his direction. He warded them off, holding the butt + of the gun in front of him. + </p> + <p> + “You wouldn't let me buy a gun,” he said, “so I bought + one myself, and I am going to use it, now, in self-defense.” + </p> + <p> + “You, Sam! You, Sam!” cried Jane Clemens. “Behave + yourself,” for she was wary of a gun. + </p> + <p> + Then he had had his joke and gave himself into his mother's arms. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XX. KEOKUK DAYS + </h2> + <p> + Orion wished his brother to remain with him in the Muscatine office, but + the young man declared he must go to St. Louis and earn some money before + he would be able to afford that luxury: He returned to his place on the + St. Louis Evening News, where he remained until late winter or early + spring of the following year. + </p> + <p> + He lived at this time with a Pavey family, probably one of the Hannibal + Paveys, rooming with a youth named Frank E. Burrough, a journeyman + chair-maker with a taste for Dickens, Thackeray, Scott, and Disraeli. + Burrough had really a fine literary appreciation for his years, and the + boys were comrades and close friends. Twenty-two years later Mark Twain + exchanged with Burrough some impressions of himself at that earlier time. + Clemens wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MY DEAR BURROUGH,—As you describe me I can picture myself as I was + 22 years ago. The portrait is correct. You think I have grown + some; upon my word there was room for it. You have described a + callow fool, a self-sufficient ass, a mere human tumble-bug, stern + in air, heaving at his bit of dung, imagining that he is remodeling + the world and is entirely capable of doing it right.... That is + what I was at 19-20. +</pre> + <p> + Orion Clemens in the mean time had married and removed to Keokuk. He had + married during a visit to that city, in the casual, impulsive way so + characteristic of him, and the fact that he had acquired a wife in the + operation seemed at first to have escaped his inner consciousness. He + tells it himself; he says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + At sunrise on the next morning after the wedding we left in a stage + for Muscatine. We halted for dinner at Burlington. After + despatching that meal we stood on the pavement when the stage drove + up, ready for departure. I climbed in, gathered the buffalo robe + around me, and leaned back unconscious that I had anything further + to do. A gentleman standing on the pavement said to my wife, “Miss, + do you go by this stage?” I said, “Oh, I forgot!” and sprang out + and helped her in. A wife was a new kind of possession to which I + had not yet become accustomed; I had forgotten her. +</pre> + <p> + Orion's wife had been Mary Stotts; her mother a friend of Jane Clemens's + girlhood. She proved a faithful helpmate to Orion; but in those early days + of marriage she may have found life with him rather trying, and it was her + homesickness that brought them to Keokuk. Brother Sam came up from St. + Louis, by and by, to visit them, and Orion offered him five dollars a week + and board to remain. He accepted. The office at this time, or soon after, + was located on the third floor of 52 Main Street, in the building at + present occupied by the Paterson Shoe Company. Henry Clemens, now + seventeen, was also in Orion's employ, and a lad by the name of Dick + Hingham. Henry and Sam slept in the office, and Dick came in for social + evenings. Also a young man named Edward Brownell, who clerked in the + book-store on the ground floor. + </p> + <p> + These were likely to be lively evenings. A music dealer and teacher, + Professor Isbell, occupied the floor just below, and did not care for + their diversions. He objected, but hardly in the right way. Had he gone to + Samuel Clemens gently, he undoubtedly would have found him willing to make + any concessions. Instead, he assailed him roughly, and the next evening + the boys set up a lot of empty wine-bottles, which they had found in a + barrel in a closet, and, with stones for balls, played tenpins on the + office floor. This was Dick and Sam; Henry declined to join the game. + Isbell rushed up-stairs and battered on the door, but they paid no + attention. Next morning he waited for the young men and denounced them + wildly. They merely ignored him, and that night organized a military + company, made up of themselves and a new German apprentice-boy, and + drilled up and down over the singing-class. Dick Hingham led these + military manoeuvers. He was a girlish sort of a fellow, but he had a + natural taste for soldiering. The others used to laugh at him. They called + him a disguised girl, and declared he would run if a gun were really + pointed in his direction. They were mistaken; seven years later Dick died + at Fort Donelson with a bullet in his forehead: this, by the way. + </p> + <p> + Isbell now adopted new tactics. He came up very pleasantly and said: + </p> + <p> + “I like your military practice better than your tenpin exercise, but + on the whole it seems to disturb the young ladies. You see how it is + yourself. You couldn't possibly teach music with a company of raw recruits + drilling overhead—now, could you? Won't you please stop it? It + bothers my pupils.” + </p> + <p> + Sam Clemens regarded him with mild surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Does it?” he said, very deliberately. “Why didn't you + mention it before? To be sure we don't want to disturb the young ladies.” + </p> + <p> + They gave up the horse-play, and not only stopped the disturbance, but + joined one of the singing—classes. Samuel Clemens had a pretty good + voice in those days and could drum fairly well on a piano and guitar. He + did not become a brilliant musician, but he was easily the most popular + member of the singing-class. + </p> + <p> + They liked his frank nature, his jokes, and his humor; his slow, quaint + fashion of speech. The young ladies called him openly and fondly a “fool”—a + term of endearment, as they applied it meaning only that he kept them in a + more or less constant state of wonder and merriment; and indeed it would + have been hard for them to say whether he was really light-minded and + frivolous or the wisest of them all. He was twenty now and at the age for + love-making; yet he remained, as in Hannibal, a beau rather than a suitor, + good friend and comrade to all, wooer of none. Ella Creel, a cousin on the + Lampton side, a great belle; also Ella Patterson (related through Orion's + wife and generally known as “Ick”), and Belle Stotts were + perhaps his favorite companions, but there were many more. He was always + ready to stop and be merry with them, full of his pranks and pleasantries; + though they noticed that he quite often carried a book under his arm—a + history or a volume of Dickens or the tales of Edgar Allan Poe. + </p> + <p> + He read at odd moments; at night voluminously—until very late, + sometimes. Already in that early day it was his habit to smoke in bed, and + he had made him an Oriental pipe of the hubble-bubble variety, because it + would hold more and was more comfortable than the regular short pipe of + daytime use. + </p> + <p> + But it had its disadvantages. Sometimes it would go out, and that would + mean sitting up and reaching for a match and leaning over to light the + bowl which stood on the floor. Young Brownell from below was passing + upstairs to his room on the fourth floor one night when he heard Sam + Clemens call. The two were great chums by this time, and Brownell poked + his head in at the door. + </p> + <p> + “What will you have, Sam?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Come in, Ed; Henry's asleep, and I am in trouble. I want somebody + to light my pipe.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you get up and light it yourself?” Brownell asked. + </p> + <p> + “I would, only I knew you'd be along in a few minutes and would do + it for me.” + </p> + <p> + Brownell scratched the necessary match, stooped down, and applied it. + </p> + <p> + “What are you reading, Sam?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing much—a so-called funny book—one of these + days I'll write a funnier book than that, myself.” + </p> + <p> + Brownell laughed. + </p> + <p> + “No, you won't, Sam,” he said. “You are too lazy ever to + write a book.” + </p> + <p> + A good many years later when the name “Mark Twain” had begun + to stand for American humor the owner of it gave his “Sandwich + Island” lecture in Keokuk. Speaking of the unreliability of the + islanders, he said: “The king is, I believe, one of the greatest + liars on the face of the earth, except one; and I am very sorry to locate + that one right here in the city of Keokuk, in the person of Ed Brownell.” + </p> + <p> + The Keokuk episode in Mark Twain's life was neither very long nor very + actively important. It extended over a period of less than two years—two + vital years, no doubt, if all the bearings could be known—but they + were not years of startling occurrence. + </p> + <p> + Yet he made at least one beginning there: at a printers' banquet he + delivered his first after-dinner speech; a hilarious speech—its + humor of a primitive kind. Whatever its shortcomings, it delighted his + audience, and raised him many points in the public regard. He had entered + a field of entertainment in which he would one day have no rival. They + impressed him into a debating society after that, and there was generally + a stir of attention when Sam Clemens was about to take the floor. + </p> + <p> + Orion Clemens records how his brother undertook to teach the German + apprentice music. + </p> + <p> + “There was an old guitar in the office and Sam taught Fritz a song + beginning: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Grasshopper sitting on a sweet-potato vine, + Turkey came along and yanked him from behind.” + </pre> + <p> + The main point in the lesson was in giving to the word “yanked” + the proper expression and emphasis, accompanied by a sweep of the fingers + across the strings. With serious face and deep earnestness Fritz in his + broken English would attempt these lines, while his teacher would bend + over and hold his sides with laughter at each ridiculous effort. Without + intending it, Fritz had his revenge. One day his tormentor's hand was + caught in the press when the German boy was turning the wheel. Sam called + to him to stop, but the boy's mind was slow to grasp the situation. The + hand was badly wounded, though no bones were broken. In due time it + recovered, its power and dexterity, but the trace of the scars remained. + </p> + <p> + Orion's printing-office was not a prosperous one; he had not the gift of + prosperity in any form. When he found it difficult to pay his brother's + wages, he took him into partnership, which meant that Sam got no wages at + all, barely a living, for the office could not keep its head above water. + </p> + <p> + The junior partner was not disturbed, however. He cared little for money + in those days, beyond his actual needs, and these were modest enough. His + mother, now with Pamela, was amply provided for. Orion himself tells how + his business dwindled away. He printed a Keokuk directory, but it did not + pay largely. He was always too eager for the work; too low in his bid for + it. Samuel Clemens in this directory is set down as “an antiquarian” + a joke, of course, though the point of it is now lost. + </p> + <p> + Only two of his Keokuk letters have been preserved. The first indicates + the general disorder of the office and a growing dissatisfaction. It is + addressed to his mother and sister and bears date of June 10, 1856. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I don't like to work at too many things at once. They take Henry + and Dick away from me, too. Before we commenced the Directory, + —[Orion printed two editions of the directory. This was probably + the second one.]—I could tell before breakfast just how much work + could be done during the day, and manage accordingly—but now, they + throw all my plans into disorder by taking my hands away from their + work.... I am not getting along well with the job-work. I can't + work blindly—without system. I gave Dick a job yesterday, which I + calculated he could set in two hours and I could work off on the + press in three, and therefore just finish it by supper-time, but he + was transferred to the Directory, and the job, promised this + morning, remains untouched. Through all the great pressure of job- + work lately, I never before failed in a promise of the kind... +</pre> + <p> + The other letter is dated two months later, August 5th. It was written to + Henry, who was visiting in St. Louis or Hannibal at the time, and + introduces the first mention of the South American fever, which now + possessed the writer. Lynch and Herndon had completed their survey of the + upper Amazon, and Lieutenant Herndon's account of the exploration was + being widely read. Poring over the book nights, young Clemens had been + seized with a desire to go to the headwaters of the South American river, + there to collect coca and make a fortune. All his life he was subject to + such impulses as that, and ways and means were not always considered. It + did not occur to him that it would be difficult to get to the Amazon and + still more difficult to ascend the river. It was his nature to see results + with a dazzling largeness that blinded him to the detail of their + achievement. In the “Turning-point” article already mentioned + he refers to this. He says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + That was more than fifty years ago. In all that time my temperament + has not changed by even a shade. I have been punished many and many + a time, and bitterly, for doing things and reflecting afterward, but + these tortures have been of no value to me; I still do the thing + commanded by Circumstance and Temperament, and reflect afterward. + Always violently. When I am reflecting on these occasions, even + deaf persons can hear me think. +</pre> + <p> + In the letter to Henry we see that his resolve was already made, his plans + matured; also that Orion had not as yet been taken into full confidence. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ma knows my determination, but even she counsels me to keep it from + Orion. She says I can treat him as I did her when I started to St. + Louis and went to New York—I can start for New York and go to South + America. +</pre> + <p> + He adds that Orion had promised him fifty or one hundred dollars, but that + he does not depend upon it, and will make other arrangements. He fears + obstacles may be put in his way, and he will bring various influences to + bear. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I shall take care that Ma and Orion are plentifully supplied with + South American books: They have Herndon's report now. Ward and the + Dr. and myself will hold a grand consultation to-night at the + office. We have agreed that no more shall be admitted into our + company. +</pre> + <p> + He had enlisted those two adventurers in his enterprise: a Doctor Martin + and the young man, Ward. They were very much in earnest, but the start was + not made as planned, most likely for want of means. + </p> + <p> + Young Clemens, however, did not give up the idea. He made up his mind to + work in the direction of his desire, following his trade and laying by + money for the venture. But Fate or Providence or Accident—whatever + we may choose to call the unaccountable—stepped in just then, and + laid before him the means of turning another sharp corner in his career. + One of those things happened which we refuse to accept in fiction as + possible; but fact has a smaller regard for the credibilities. + </p> + <p> + As in the case of the Joan of Arc episode (and this adds to its marvel), + it was the wind that brought the talismanic gift. It was a day in early + November—bleak, bitter, and gusty, with curling snow; most persons + were indoors. Samuel Clemens, going down Main Street, saw a flying bit of + paper pass him and lodge against the side of a building. Something about + it attracted him and he captured it. It was a fifty-dollar bill. He had + never seen one before, but he recognized it. He thought he must be having + a pleasant dream. + </p> + <p> + The temptation came to pocket his good-fortune and say nothing. His need + of money was urgent, but he had also an urgent and troublesome conscience; + in the end he advertised his find. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't describe it very particularly, and I waited in daily fear + that the owner would turn up and take away my fortune. By and by I + couldn't stand it any longer. My conscience had gotten all that was coming + to it. I felt that I must take that money out of danger.” + </p> + <p> + In the “Turning-point” article he says: “I advertised + the find and left for the Amazon the same day,” a statement which we + may accept with a literary discount. + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact, he remained ample time and nobody ever came for the + money. It may have been swept out of a bank or caught up by the wind from + some counting-room table. It may have materialized out of the unseen—who + knows? At all events it carried him the first stage of a journey, the end + of which he little dreamed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXI. SCOTCHMAN NAMED MACFARLANE + </h2> + <p> + He concluded to go to Cincinnati, which would be on the way either to New + York or New Orleans (he expected to sail from one of these points), but + first paid a brief visit to his mother in St. Louis, for he had a far + journey and along absence in view. Jane Clemens made him renew his promise + as to cards and liquor, and gave him her blessing. He had expected to go + from St. Louis to Cincinnati, but a new idea—a literary idea—came + to him, and he returned to Keokuk. The Saturday Post, a Keokuk weekly, was + a prosperous sheet giving itself certain literary airs. He was in favor + with the management, of which George Rees was the head, and it had + occurred to him that he could send letters of his travels to the Post—for, + a consideration. He may have had a still larger ambition; at least, the + possibility of a book seems to have been in his consciousness. Rees agreed + to take letters from him at five dollars each—good payment for that + time and place. The young traveler, jubilant in the prospect of receiving + money for literature, now made another start, this time by way of Quincy, + Chicago, and Indianapolis according to his first letter in the Post.—[Supplied + by Thomas Rees, of the Springfield (Illinois) Register, son of George Rees + named.] + </p> + <p> + This letter is dated Cincinnati, November 14, 1856, and it is not a + promising literary production. It was written in the exaggerated dialect + then regarded as humorous, and while here and there are flashes of the + undoubted Mark Twain type, they are few and far between. The genius that a + little more than ten years later would delight the world flickered feebly + enough at twenty-one. The letter is a burlesque account of the trip to + Cincinnati. A brief extract from it, as characteristic as any, will serve. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I went down one night to the railroad office there, purty close onto + the Laclede House, and bought about a quire o' yaller paper, cut up + into tickets—one for each railroad in the United States, I thought, + but I found out afterwards that the Alexandria and Boston Air-Line + was left out—and then got a baggage feller to take my trunk down to + the boat, where he spilled it out on the levee, bustin' it open and + shakin' out the contents, consisting of “guides” to Chicago, and + “guides” to Cincinnati, and travelers' guides, and all kinds of sich + books, not excepting a “guide to heaven,” which last aint much use + to a Teller in Chicago, I kin tell you. Finally, that fast packet + quit ringing her bell, and started down the river—but she hadn't + gone morn a mile, till she ran clean up on top of a sand-bar, whar + she stuck till plum one o'clock, spite of the Captain's swearin' + —and they had to set the whole crew to cussin' at last afore they + got her off. +</pre> + <p> + This is humor, we may concede, of that early American type which a little + later would have its flower in Nasby and Artemus Ward. Only careful + examination reveals in it a hint of the later Mark Twain. The letters were + signed “Snodgrass,” and there are but two of them. The second, + dated exactly four months after the first, is in the same assassinating + dialect, and recounts among other things the scarcity of coal in + Cincinnati and an absurd adventure in which Snodgrass has a baby left on + his hands. + </p> + <p> + From the fewness of the letters we may assume that Snodgrass found them + hard work, and it is said he raised on the price. At all events, the + second concluded the series. They are mainly important in that they are + the first of his contributions that have been preserved; also the first + for which he received a cash return. + </p> + <p> + He secured work at his trade in Cincinnati at the printing-office of + Wrightson & Co., and remained there until April, 1857. That winter in + Cincinnati was eventless enough, but it was marked by one notable + association—one that beyond doubt forwarded Samuel Clemens's general + interest in books, influenced his taste, and inspired in him certain views + and philosophies which he never forgot. + </p> + <p> + He lodged at a cheap boarding-house filled with the usual commonplace + people, with one exception. This exception was a long, lank, unsmiling + Scotchman named Macfarlane, who was twice as old as Clemens and wholly + unlike him—without humor or any comprehension of it. Yet meeting on + the common plane of intellect, the two became friends. Clemens spent his + evenings in Macfarlane's room until the clock struck ten; then Macfarlane + grilled a herring, just as the Englishman Sumner in Philadelphia had done + two years before, and the evening ended. + </p> + <p> + Macfarlane had books, serious books: histories, philosophies, and + scientific works; also a Bible and a dictionary. He had studied these and + knew them by heart; he was a direct and diligent talker. He never talked + of himself, and beyond the statement that he had acquired his knowledge + from reading, and not at school, his personality was a mystery. He left + the house at six in the morning and returned at the same hour in the + evening. His hands were hardened from some sort of toil-mechanical labor, + his companion thought, but he never knew. He would have liked to know, and + he watched for some reference to slip out that would betray Macfarlane's + trade; but this never happened. + </p> + <p> + What he did learn was that Macfarlane was a veritable storehouse of + abstruse knowledge; a living dictionary, and a thinker and philosopher + besides. He had at least one vanity: the claim that he knew every word in + the English dictionary, and he made it good. The younger man tried + repeatedly to discover a word that Macfarlane could not define. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps Macfarlane was vain of his other mental attainments, for he never + tired of discoursing upon deep and grave matters, and his companion never + tired of listening. This Scotch philosopher did not always reflect the + conclusions of others; he had speculated deeply and strikingly on his own + account. That was a good while before Darwin and Wallace gave out—their + conclusions on the Descent of Man; yet Macfarlane was already advancing a + similar philosophy. He went even further: Life, he said, had been + developed in the course of ages from a few microscopic seed-germs—from + one, perhaps, planted by the Creator in the dawn of time, and that from + this beginning development on an ascending scale had finally produced man. + Macfarlane said that the scheme had stopped there, and failed; that man + had retrograded; that man's heart was the only bad one in the animal + kingdom: that man was the only animal capable of malice, vindictiveness, + drunkenness—almost the only animal that could endure personal + uncleanliness. He said that man's intellect was a depraving addition to + him which, in the end, placed him in a rank far below the other beasts, + though it enabled him to keep them in servitude and captivity, along with + many members of his own race. + </p> + <p> + They were long, fermenting discourses that young Samuel Clemens listened + to that winter in Macfarlane's room, and those who knew the real Mark + Twain and his philosophies will recognize that those evenings left their + impress upon him for life. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXII. THE OLD CALL OF THE RIVER + </h2> + <p> + When spring came, with budding life and quickening impulses; when the + trees in the parks began to show a hint of green, the Amazonian idea + developed afresh, and the would-be coca-hunter prepared for his + expedition. He had saved a little money—enough to take him to New + Orleans—and he decided to begin his long trip with a peaceful + journey down the Mississippi, for once, at least, to give himself up to + that indolent luxury of the majestic stream that had been so large a part + of his early dreams. + </p> + <p> + The Ohio River steamers were not the most sumptuous craft afloat, but they + were slow and hospitable. The winter had been bleak and hard. “Spring + fever” and a large love of indolence had combined in that drowsy + condition which makes one willing to take his time. + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain tells us in Life on the Mississippi that he “ran away,” + vowing never to return until he could come home a pilot, shedding glory. + This is a literary statement. The pilot ambition had never entirely died; + but it was coca and the Amazon that were uppermost in his head when he + engaged passage on the Paul Jones for New Orleans, and so conferred + immortality on that ancient little craft. He bade good-by to Macfarlane, + put his traps aboard, the bell rang, the whistle blew, the gang-plank was + hauled in, and he had set out on a voyage that was to continue not for a + week or a fortnight, but for four years—four marvelous, sunlit + years, the glory of which would color all that followed them. + </p> + <p> + In the Mississippi book the author conveys the impression of being then a + boy of perhaps seventeen. Writing from that standpoint he records + incidents that were more or less inventions or that happened to others. He + was, in reality, considerably more than twenty-one years old, for it was + in April, 1857, that he went aboard the Paul Jones; and he was fairly + familiar with steamboats and the general requirements of piloting. He had + been brought up in a town that turned out pilots; he had heard the talk of + their trade. One at least of the Bowen boys was already on the river while + Sam Clemens was still a boy in Hannibal, and had often been home to air + his grandeur and dilate on the marvel of his work. That learning the river + was no light task Sam Clemens very well knew. Nevertheless, as the little + boat made its drowsy way down the river into lands that grew ever + pleasanter with advancing spring, the old “permanent ambition” + of boyhood stirred again, and the call of the far-away Amazon, with its + coca and its variegated zoology, grew faint. + </p> + <p> + Horace Bixby, pilot of the Paul Jones, then a man of thirty-two, still + living (1910) and at the wheel,—[The writer of this memoir + interviewed Mr. Bixby personally, and has followed his phrasing + throughout.]—was looking out over the bow at the head of Island No. + 35 when he heard a slow, pleasant voice say: + </p> + <p> + “Good morning.” + </p> + <p> + Bixby was a clean-cut, direct, courteous man. + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, sir,” he said, briskly, without looking around. + </p> + <p> + As a rule Mr. Bixby did not care for visitors in the pilot-house. This one + presently came up and stood a little behind him. + </p> + <p> + “How would you like a young man to learn the river?” he said. + </p> + <p> + The pilot glanced over his shoulder and saw a rather slender, loose-limbed + young fellow with a fair, girlish complexion and a great tangle of auburn + hair. + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't like it. Cub pilots are more trouble than they're worth. + A great deal more trouble than profit.” + </p> + <p> + The applicant was not discouraged. + </p> + <p> + “I am a printer by trade,” he went on, in his easy, deliberate + way. “It doesn't agree with me. I thought I'd go to South America.” + </p> + <p> + Bixby kept his eye on the river; but a note of interest crept into his + voice. + </p> + <p> + “What makes you pull your words that way?” (“pulling” + being the river term for drawling), he asked. + </p> + <p> + The young man had taken a seat on the visitors' bench. + </p> + <p> + “You'll have to ask my mother,” he said, more slowly than + ever. “She pulls hers, too.” + </p> + <p> + Pilot Bixby woke up and laughed; he had a keen sense of humor, and the + manner of the reply amused him. His guest made another advance. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know the Bowen boys?” he asked—“pilots in + the St. Louis and New Orleans trade?” + </p> + <p> + “I know them well—all three of them. William Bowen did his + first steering for me; a mighty good boy, too. Had a Testament in his + pocket when he came aboard; in a week's time he had swapped it for a pack + of cards. I know Sam, too, and Bart.” + </p> + <p> + “Old schoolmates of mine in Hannibal. Sam and Will especially were + my chums.” + </p> + <p> + “Come over and stand by the side of me,” he said. “What + is your name?” + </p> + <p> + The applicant told him, and the two stood looking at the sunlit water. + </p> + <p> + “Do you drink?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you gamble?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you swear?” + </p> + <p> + “Not for amusement; only under pressure.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you chew?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, never; but I must smoke.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever do any steering?” was Bixby's next question. + </p> + <p> + “I have steered everything on the river but a steamboat, I guess.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well; take the wheel and see what you can do with a steamboat. + Keep her as she is—toward that lower cottonwood, snag.” + </p> + <p> + Bixby had a sore foot and was glad of a little relief. He sat down on the + bench and kept a careful eye on the course. By and by he said: + </p> + <p> + “There is just one way that I would take a young man to learn the + river: that is, for money.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you charge?” + </p> + <p> + “Five hundred dollars, and I to be at no expense whatever.” + </p> + <p> + In those days pilots were allowed to carry a learner, or “cub,” + board free. Mr. Bixby meant that he was to be at no expense in port, or + for incidentals. His terms looked rather discouraging. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't got five hundred dollars in money,” Sam said; + “I've got a lot of Tennessee land worth twenty-five cents an acre; + I'll give you two thousand acres of that.” + </p> + <p> + Bixby dissented. + </p> + <p> + “No; I don't want any unimproved real estate. I have too much + already.” + </p> + <p> + Sam reflected upon the amount he could probably borrow from Pamela's + husband without straining his credit. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I'll give you one hundred dollars cash and the rest + when I earn it.” + </p> + <p> + Something about this young man had won Horace Bixby's heart. His slow, + pleasant speech; his unhurried, quiet manner with the wheel, his evident + sincerity of purpose—these were externals, but beneath them the + pilot felt something of that quality of mind or heart which later made the + world love Mark Twain. The terms proposed were agreed upon. The deferred + payments were to begin when the pupil had learned the river and was + receiving pilot's wages. During Mr. Bixby's daylight watches his pupil was + often at the wheel, that trip, while the pilot sat directing him and + nursing his sore foot. Any literary ambitions Samuel Clemens may have had + grew dim; by the time they had reached New Orleans he had almost forgotten + he had been a printer, and when he learned that no ship would be sailing + to the Amazon for an indefinite period the feeling grew that a directing + hand had taken charge of his affairs. + </p> + <p> + From New Orleans his chief did not return to Cincinnati, but went to St. + Louis, taking with him his new cub, who thought it fine, indeed, to come + steaming up to that great city with its thronging water-front; its levee + fairly packed with trucks, drays, and piles of freight, the whole flanked + with a solid mile of steamboats lying side by side, bow a little + up-stream, their belching stacks reared high against the blue—a + towering front of trade. It was glorious to nose one's way to a place in + that stately line, to become a unit, however small, of that imposing + fleet. At St. Louis Sam borrowed from Mr. Moffett the funds necessary to + make up his first payment, and so concluded his contract. Then, when he + suddenly found himself on a fine big boat, in a pilot-house so far above + the water that he seemed perched on a mountain—a “sumptuous + temple”—his happiness seemed complete. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIII. THE SUPREME SCIENCE + </h2> + <p> + In his Mississippi book Mark Twain has given us a marvelous exposition of + the science of river-piloting, and of the colossal task of acquiring and + keeping a knowledge requisite for that work. He has not exaggerated this + part of the story of developments in any detail; he has set down a simple + confession. + </p> + <p> + Serenely enough he undertook the task of learning twelve hundred miles of + the great changing, shifting river as exactly and as surely by daylight or + darkness as one knows the way to his own features. As already suggested, + he had at least an inkling of what that undertaking meant. His statement + that he “supposed all that a pilot had to do was to keep his boat in + the river” is not to be accepted literally. Still he could hardly + have realized the full majesty of his task; nobody could do that—not + until afterward. + </p> + <p> + Horace Bixby was a “lightning” pilot with a method of + instruction as direct and forcible as it was effective. He was a small + man, hot and quick-firing, though kindly, too, and gentle when he had + blown off. After one rather pyrotechnic misunderstanding as to the manner + of imparting and acquiring information he said: + </p> + <p> + “My boy, you must get a little memorandum-book, and every time I + tell you a thing put it down right away. There's only one way to be a + pilot, and that is to get this entire river by heart. You have to know it + just like A B C.” + </p> + <p> + So Sam Clemens got the little book, and presently it “fairly + bristled” with the names of towns, points, bars, islands, bends, and + reaches, but it made his heart ache to think that he had only half of the + river set down; for, as the “watches” were four hours off and + four hours on, there were long gaps during which he had slept. + </p> + <p> + The little note-book still exists—thin and faded, with black + water-proof covers—its neat, tiny, penciled notes still, telling, + the story of that first trip. Most of them are cryptographic + abbreviations, not readily deciphered now. Here and there is an easier + line: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MERIWEATHER'S BEND + + 1/4 less 3—[Depth of water. One-quarter less than three + fathoms.]——run shape of upper bar and go into the low place in + willows about 200(ft.) lower down than last year. +</pre> + <p> + One simple little note out of hundreds far more complicated. It would take + days for the average mind to remember even a single page of such + statistics. And those long four-hour gaps where he had been asleep, they + are still there, and somehow, after more than fifty years, the old + heart-ache is still in them. He got a new book, maybe, for the next trip, + and laid this one away. + </p> + <p> + There is but one way to account for the fact that the man whom the world + knew as Mark Twain—dreamy, unpractical, and indifferent to details—ever + persisted in acquiring knowledge like that—in the vast, the + absolutely limitless quantity necessary to Mississippi piloting. It lies + in the fact that he loved the river in its every mood and aspect and + detail, and not only the river, but a steam boat; and still more, perhaps, + the freedom of the pilot's life and its prestige. Wherever he has written + of the river—and in one way or another he was always writing of it + we feel the claim of the old captivity and that it still holds him. In the + Huckleberry Finn book, during those nights and days with Huck and Nigger + Jim on the raft—whether in stormlit blackness, still noontide, or + the lifting mists of morning—we can fairly “smell” the + river, as Huck himself would say, and we know that it is because the + writer loved it with his heart of hearts and literally drank in its + environment and atmosphere during those halcyon pilot days. + </p> + <p> + So, in his love lay the secret of his marvelous learning, and it is + recorded (not by himself, but by his teacher) that he was an apt pupil. + Horace Bixby has more than once declared: + </p> + <p> + “Sam was always good-natured, and he had a natural taste for the + river. He had a fine memory and never forgot anything I told him.” + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain himself records a different opinion of his memory, with the + size of its appalling task. It can only be presented in his own words. In + the pages quoted he had mastered somewhat of the problem, and had begun to + take on airs. His chief was a constant menace at such moments: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + One day he turned on me suddenly with this settler: + + “What is the shape of Walnut Bend?” + + He might as well have asked me my grandmother's opinion of + protoplasm. I reflected respectfully, and then said I didn't know + it had any particular shape. My gun-powdery chief went off with a + bang, of course, and then went on loading and firing until he was + out of adjectives.... I waited. By and by he said: + + “My boy, you've got to know the shape of the river perfectly. It is + all there is left to steer by on a very dark night. Everything is + blotted out and gone. But mind you, it hasn't the same shape in the + night that it has in the daytime.” + + “How on earth am I ever going to learn it, then?” + + “How do you follow a hall at home in the dark? Because you know the + shape of it. You can't see it.” + + “Do you mean to say that I've got to know all the million trifling + variations of shape in the banks of this interminable river as well + as I know the shape of the front hall at home?” + + “On my honor, you've got to know them better than any man ever did + know the shapes of the halls in his own house.” + + “I wish I was dead!” + + “Now, I don't want to discourage you, but——” + + “Well, pile it on me; I might as well have it now as another time.” + + “You see, this has got to be learned; there isn't any getting around + it. A clear starlight night throws such heavy shadows that, if you + didn't know the shape of a shore perfectly, you would claw away from + every bunch of timber, because you would take the black shadow of it + for a solid cape; and, you see, you would be getting scared to death + every fifteen minutes by the watch. You would be fifty yards from + shore all the time when you ought to be within fifty feet of it. + You can't see a snag in one of those shadows, but you know exactly + where it is, and the shape of the river tells you when you are + coming to it. Then there's your pitch-dark night; the river is a + very different shape on a pitch-dark night from what it is on a + starlight night. All shores seem to be straight lines, then, and + mighty dim ones, too; and you'd run them for straight lines, only + you know better. You boldly drive your boat right into what seems + to be a solid, straight wall (you know very well that in reality + there is a curve there), and that wall falls back and makes way for + you. Then there's your gray mist. You take a night when there's + one of these grisly, drizzly, gray mists, and then there isn't any + particular shape to a shore. A gray mist would tangle the head of + the oldest man that ever lived. Well, then, different kinds of + moonlight change the shape of the river in different ways. + You see——” + + “Oh, don't say any more, please! Have I got to learn the shape of + the river according to all these five hundred thousand different + ways? If I tried to carry all that cargo in my head it would make + me stoop-shouldered.” + + “No! you only learn the shape of the river; and you learn it with + such absolute certainty that you can always steer by the shape + that's in your head, and never mind the one that's before your + eyes.” + + “Very well, I'll try it; but, after I have learned it, can I depend + on it? Will it keep the same form, and not go fooling around?” + + Before Mr. Bixby could answer, Mr. W. came in to take the watch, and + he said: + + “Bixby, you'll have to look out for President's island, and all that + country clear away up above the Old Hen and Chickens. The banks are + caving and the shape of the shores changing like everything. Why, + you wouldn't know the point about 40. You can go up inside the old + sycamore snag now.” + + So that question was answered. Here were leagues of shore changing + shape. My spirits were down in the mud again. Two things seemed + pretty apparent to me. One was that in order to be a pilot a man + had got to learn more than any one man ought to be allowed to know; + and the other was that he must learn it all over again in a + different way every twenty-four hours. + + I went to work now to learn the shape of the river; and of all the + eluding and ungraspable objects that ever I tried to get mind or + hands on, that was the chief. I would fasten my eyes upon a sharp, + wooded point that projected far into the river some miles ahead of + me and go to laboriously photographing its shape upon my brain; and + just as I was beginning to succeed to my satisfaction we would draw + up to it, and the exasperating thing would begin to melt away and + fold back into the bank! + + It was plain that I had got to learn the shape of the river in all + the different ways that could be thought of—upside down, wrong end + first, inside out, fore-and-aft, and “thort-ships,”—and then know + what to do on gray nights when it hadn't any shape at all. So I set + about it. In the course of time I began to get the best of this + knotty lesson, and my self-complacency moved to the front once more. + Mr. Bixby was all fixed and ready to start it to the rear again. He + opened on me after this fashion: + + “How much water did we have in the middle crossing at Hole-in-The- + Wall, trip before last?” + + I considered this an outrage. I said: + + “Every trip down and up the leadsmen are singing through that + tangled place for three-quarters of an hour on a stretch. How do + you reckon I can remember such a mess as that?” + + “My boy, you've got to remember it. You've got to remember the + exact spot and the exact marks the boat lay in when we had the + shoalest water, in every one of the five hundred shoal places + between St. Louis and New Orleans; and you mustn't get the shoal + soundings and marks of one trip mixed up with the shoal soundings + and marks of another, either, for they're not often twice alike. + You must keep them separate.” + + When I came to myself again, I said: + + “When I get so that I can do that, I'll be able to raise the dead, + and then I won't have to pilot a steamboat to make a living. I want + to retire from this business. I want a slush-bucket and a brush; + I'm only fit for a roustabout. I haven't got brains enough to be a + pilot; and if I had I wouldn't have strength enough to carry them + around, unless I went on crutches.” + + “Now drop that! When I say I'll learn a man the river I mean it. + And you can depend on it, I'll learn him or kill him.” + </pre> + <p> + We have quoted at length from this chapter because it seems of very + positive importance here. It is one of the most luminous in the book so + far as the mastery of the science of piloting is concerned, and shows + better than could any other combination of words something of what is + required of the learner. It does not cover the whole problem, by any means—Mark + Twain himself could not present that; and even considering his old-time + love of the river and the pilot's trade, it is still incredible that a man + of his temperament could have persisted, as he did, against such + obstacles. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIV. THE RIVER CURRICULUM + </h2> + <p> + He acquired other kinds of knowledge. As the streets of Hannibal in those + early days, and the printing-offices of several cities, had taught him + human nature in various unvarnished aspects, so the river furnished an + added course to that vigorous education. Morally, its atmosphere could not + be said to be an improvement on the others. Navigation in the West had + begun with crafts of the flat-boat type—their navigators rude, hardy + men, heavy drinkers, reckless fighters, barbaric in their sports, coarse + in their wit, profane in everything. Steam-boatmen were the natural + successors of these pioneers—a shade less coarse, a thought less + profane, a veneer less barbaric. But these things were mainly “above + stairs.” You had but to scratch lightly a mate or a deck-hand to + find the old keel-boatman savagery. Captains were overlords, and pilots + kings in this estate; but they were not angels. In Life on the Mississippi + Clemens refers to his chief's explosive vocabulary and tells us how he + envied the mate's manner of giving an order. It was easier to acquire + those things than piloting, and, on the whole, quicker. One could improve + upon them, too, with imagination and wit and a natural gift for terms. + That Samuel Clemens maintained his promise as to drink and cards during + those apprentice days is something worth remembering; and if he did not + always restrict his profanity to moments of severe pressure or sift the + quality of his wit, we may also remember that he was an extreme example of + a human being, in that formative stage which gathers all as grist, later + to refine it for the uses and delights of men. + </p> + <p> + He acquired a vast knowledge of human character. He says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In that brief, sharp schooling I got personally and familiarly + acquainted with all the different types of human nature that are to + be found in fiction, biography, or history. When I find a well- + drawn character in fiction or biography, I generally take a warm + personal interest in him, for the reason that I have, known him + before—met him on the river. +</pre> + <p> + Undoubtedly the river was a great school for the study of life's broader + philosophies and humors: philosophies that avoid vague circumlocution and + aim at direct and sure results; humors of the rugged and vigorous sort + that in Europe are known as “American” and in America are + known as “Western.” Let us be thankful that Mark Twain's + school was no less than it was—and no more. + </p> + <p> + The demands of the Missouri River trade took Horace Bixby away from the + Mississippi, somewhat later, and he consigned his pupil, according to + custom, to another pilot—it is not certain, now, to just which + pilot, but probably to Zeb Leavenworth or Beck Jolly, of the John J. Roe. + The Roe was a freight-boat, “as slow as an island and as comfortable + as a farm.” In fact, the Roe was owned and conducted by farmers, and + Sam Clemens thought if John Quarles's farm could be set afloat it would + greatly resemble that craft in the matter of good-fellowship, hospitality, + and speed. It was said of her that up-stream she could even beat an + island, though down-stream she could never quite overtake the current, but + was a “love of a steamboat” nevertheless. The Roe was not + licensed to carry passengers, but she always had a dozen “family + guests” aboard, and there was a big boiler-deck for dancing and + moonlight frolics, also a piano in the cabin. The young pilot sometimes + played on the piano and sang to his music songs relating to the “grasshopper + on the sweet-potato vine,” or to an old horse by the name of + Methusalem: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Took him down and sold him in Jerusalem, + A long time ago. +</pre> + <p> + There were forty-eight stanzas about this ancient horse, all pretty much + alike; but the assembled company was not likely to be critical, and his + efforts won him laurels. He had a heavenly time on the John J. Roe, and + then came what seemed inferno by contrast. Bixby returned, made a trip or + two, then left and transferred him again, this time to a man named Brown. + Brown had a berth on the fine new steamer Pennsylvania, one of the + handsomest boats on the river, and young Clemens had become a fine + steersman, so it is not unlikely that both men at first were gratified by + the arrangement. + </p> + <p> + But Brown was a fault-finding, tyrannical chief, ignorant, vulgar, and + malicious. In the Mississippi book the author gives his first interview + with Brown, also his last one. For good reasons these occasions were + burned into his memory, and they may be accepted as substantially correct. + Brown had an offensive manner. His first greeting was a surly question. + </p> + <p> + “Are you Horace Bigsby's cub?” + </p> + <p> + “Bixby” was usually pronounced “Bigsby” on the + river, but Brown made it especially obnoxious and followed it up with + questions and comments and orders still more odious. His subordinate soon + learned to detest him thoroughly. It was necessary, however, to maintain a + respectable deportment—custom, discipline, even the law, required + that—but it must have been a hard winter and spring the young + steersman put in during those early months of 1858, restraining himself + from the gratification of slaying Brown. Time would bring revenge—a + tragic revenge and at a fearful cost; but he could not guess that, and he + put in his spare time planning punishments of his own. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I could imagine myself killing Brown; there was no law against that, + and that was the thing I always used to do the moment I was abed. + Instead of going over my river in my mind, as was my duty, I threw + business aside for pleasure and killed Brown. I killed Brown every + night for a month; not in old, stale, commonplace ways, but in new + and picturesque ones—ways that were sometimes surprising for + freshness of design and ghastly for situation and environment. +</pre> + <p> + Once when Brown had been more insulting than usual his subordinate went to + bed and killed him in “seventeen different ways—all of them + new.” + </p> + <p> + He had made an effort at first to please Brown, but it was no use. Brown + was the sort of a man that refused to be pleased; no matter how carefully + his subordinate steered, he as always at him. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” he would shout, “where are you going now? Pull + her down! Pull her down! Don't you hear me? Dod-derned mud-cat!” + </p> + <p> + His assistant lost all desire to be obliging to such a person and even + took occasion now and then to stir him up. One day they were steaming up + the river when Brown noticed that the boat seemed to be heading toward + some unusual point. + </p> + <p> + “Here, where are you heading for now?” he yelled. “What + in nation are you steerin' at, anyway? Deyned numskull!” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” said Sam, in unruffled deliberation, “I didn't + see much else I could steer for, and I was heading for that white heifer + on the bank.” + </p> + <p> + “Get away from that wheel! and get outen this pilothouse!” + yelled Brown. “You ain't fit to become no pilot!” + </p> + <p> + Which was what Sam wanted. Any temporary relief from the carping tyranny + of Brown was welcome. + </p> + <p> + He had been on the river nearly a year now, and, though universally liked + and accounted a fine steersman, he was receiving no wages. There had been + small need of money for a while, for he had no board to pay; but clothes + wear out at last, and there were certain incidentals. The Pennsylvania + made a round trip in about thirty-five days, with a day or two of idle + time at either end. The young pilot found that he could get night + employment, watching freight on the New Orleans levee, and thus earn from + two and a half to three dollars for each night's watch. Sometimes there + would be two nights, and with a capital of five or six dollars he + accounted himself rich. + </p> + <p> + “It was a desolate experience,” he said, long afterward, + “watching there in the dark among those piles of freight; not a + sound, not a living creature astir. But it was not a profitless one: I + used to have inspirations as I sat there alone those nights. I used to + imagine all sorts of situations and possibilities. Those things got into + my books by and by and furnished me with many a chapter. I can trace the + effect of those nights through most of my books in one way and another.” + </p> + <p> + Many of the curious tales in the latter half of the Mississippi book came + out of those long night-watches. It was a good time to think of such + things. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXV. LOVE-MAKING AND ADVENTURE + </h2> + <p> + Of course, life with Brown was not all sorrow. At either end of the trip + there was respite and recreation. In St. Louis, at Pamela's there was + likely to be company: Hannibal friends mostly, schoolmates—girls, of + course. At New Orleans he visited friendly boats, especially the John J. + Roe, where he was generously welcomed. One such visit on the Roe he never + forgot. A young girl was among the boat's guests that trip—another + Laura, fifteen, winning, delightful. They met, and were mutually + attracted; in the life of each it was one of those bright spots which are + likely to come in youth: one of those sudden, brief periods of romance, + love—call it what you will the thing that leads to marriage, if + pursued. + </p> + <p> + “I was not four inches from that girl's elbow during our waking + hours for the next three days.” + </p> + <p> + Then came a sudden interruption: Zeb Leavenworth came flying aft shouting: + </p> + <p> + “The Pennsylvania is backing out.” + </p> + <p> + A flutter of emotion, a fleeting good-by, a flight across the decks, a + flying leap from romance back to reality, and it was all over. He wrote + her, but received no reply. He never saw her again, never heard from her + for forty-eight years, when both were married, widowed, and old. She had + not received his letter. + </p> + <p> + Even on the Pennsylvania life had its interests. A letter dated March 9, + 1858, recounts a delightfully dangerous night-adventure in the steamer's + yawl, hunting for soundings in the running ice. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Then the fun commenced. We made fast a line 20 fathoms long, to the + bow of the yawl, and put the men (both crews) to it like horses on + the shore. Brown, the pilot, stood in the bow, with an oar, to keep + her head out, and I took the tiller. We would start the men, and + all would go well till the yawl would bring up on a heavy cake of + ice, and then the men would drop like so many tenpins, while Brown + assumed the horizontal in the bottom of the boat. After an hour's + hard work we got back, with ice half an inch thick on the oars. + Sent back and warped up the other yawl, and then George (George + Ealer, the other pilot) and myself took a double crew of fresh men + and tried it again. This time we found the channel in less than + half an hour, and landed on an island till the Pennsylvania came + along and took us off. The next day was colder still. I was out in + the yawl twice, and then we got through, but the infernal steamboat + came near running over us.... We sounded Hat Island, warped up + around a bar, and sounded again—but in order to understand our + situation you will have to read Dr. Kane. It would have been + impossible to get back to the boat. But the Maria Denning was + aground at the head of the island—they hailed us—we ran alongside, + and they hoisted us in and thawed us out. We had then been out in + the yawl from four o'clock in the morning till half past nine + without being near a fire. There was a thick coating of ice over + men, and yawl, ropes and everything else, and we looked like rock- + candy statuary. +</pre> + <p> + This was the sort of thing he loved in those days. We feel the writer's + evident joy and pride in it. In the same letter he says: “I can't + correspond with the paper, because when one is learning the river he is + not allowed to do or think about anything else.” Then he mentions + his brother Henry, and we get the beginning of that tragic episode for + which, though blameless, Samuel Clemens always held himself responsible. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Henry was doing little or nothing here (St. Louis), and I sent him + to our clerk to work his way for a trip, measuring wood-piles, + counting coal-boxes, and doing other clerkly duties, which he + performed satisfactorily. He may go down with us again. +</pre> + <p> + Henry Clemens was about twenty at this time, a handsome, attractive boy of + whom his brother was lavishly fond and proud. He did go on the next trip + and continued to go regularly after that, as third clerk in line of + promotion. It was a bright spot in those hard days with Brown to have + Henry along. The boys spent a good deal of their leisure with the other + pilot, George Ealer, who “was as kindhearted as Brown wasn't,” + and quoted Shakespeare and Goldsmith, and played the flute to his + fascinated and inspiring audience. These were things worth while. The + young steersman could not guess that the shadow of a long sorrow was even + then stretching across the path ahead. + </p> + <p> + Yet in due time he received a warning, a remarkable and impressive + warning, though of a kind seldom heeded. One night, when the Pennsylvania + lay in St. Louis, he slept at his sister's house and had this vivid dream: + </p> + <p> + He saw Henry, a corpse, lying in a metallic burial case in the + sitting-room, supported on two chairs. On his breast lay a bouquet of + flowers, white, with a single crimson bloom in the center. + </p> + <p> + When he awoke, it was morning, but the dream was so vivid that he believed + it real. Perhaps something of the old hypnotic condition was upon him, for + he rose and dressed, thinking he would go in and look at his dead brother. + Instead, he went out on the street in the early morning and had walked to + the middle of the block before it suddenly flashed upon him that it was + only a dream. He bounded back, rushed to the sitting-room, and felt a + great trembling revulsion of joy when he found it really empty. He told + Pamela the dream, then put it out of his mind as quickly as he could. The + Pennsylvania sailed from St. Louis as usual, and made a safe trip to New + Orleans. + </p> + <p> + A safe trip, but an eventful one; on it occurred that last interview with + Brown, already mentioned. It is recorded in the Mississippi book, but + cannot be omitted here. Somewhere down the river (it was in Eagle Bend) + Henry appeared on the hurricane deck to bring an order from the captain + for a landing to be made a little lower down. Brown was somewhat deaf, but + would never confess it. He may not have understood the order; at all + events he gave no sign of having heard it, and went straight ahead. He + disliked Henry as he disliked everybody of finer grain than himself, and + in any case was too arrogant to ask for a repetition. They were passing + the landing when Captain Klinefelter appeared on deck and called to him to + let the boat come around, adding: + </p> + <p> + “Didn't Henry tell you to land here?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Captain. Klinefelter turned to Sam: + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you hear him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Brown said: “Shut your mouth! You never heard anything of the kind.” + </p> + <p> + By and by Henry came into the pilot-house, unaware of any trouble. Brown + set upon him in his ugliest manner. + </p> + <p> + “Here, why didn't you tell me we had got to land at that plantation?” + he demanded. + </p> + <p> + Henry was always polite, always gentle. + </p> + <p> + “I did tell you, Mr. Brown.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a lie.” + </p> + <p> + Sam Clemens could stand Brown's abuse of himself, but not of Henry. He + said: “You lie yourself. He did tell you.” + </p> + <p> + Brown was dazed for a moment and then he shouted: + </p> + <p> + “I'll attend to your case in half a minute!” and ordered Henry + out of the pilot-house. + </p> + <p> + The boy had started, when Brown suddenly seized him by the collar and + struck him in the face.—[In the Mississippi book the writer states + that Brown started to strike Henry with a large piece of coal; but, in a + letter written soon after the occurrence to Mrs. Orion Clemens, he says: + “Henry started out of the pilot-house-Brown jumped up and collared + him—turned him half-way around and struck him in the face!-and him + nearly six feet high-struck my little brother. I was wild from that + moment. I left the boat to steer herself, and avenged the insult—and + the captain said I was right.”]—Instantly Sam was upon Brown, + with a heavy stool, and stretched him on the floor. Then all the + bitterness and indignation that had been smoldering for months flamed up, + and, leaping upon Brown and holding him with his knees, he pounded him + with his fists until strength and fury gave out. Brown struggled free, + then, and with pilot instinct sprang to the wheel, for the vessel had been + drifting and might have got into trouble. Seeing there was no further + danger, he seized a spy-glass as a weapon. + </p> + <p> + “Get out of this here pilot-house,” he raged. + </p> + <p> + But his subordinate was not afraid of him now. + </p> + <p> + “You should leave out the 'here,'” he drawled, critically. + “It is understood, and not considered good English form.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you give me none of your airs,” yelled Brown. “I + ain't going to stand nothing more from you.” + </p> + <p> + “You should say, 'Don't give me any of your airs,'” Sam said, + sweetly, “and the last half of your sentence almost defies + correction.” + </p> + <p> + A group of passengers and white-aproned servants, assembled on the deck + forward, applauded the victor. + </p> + <p> + Brown turned to the wheel, raging and growling. Clemens went below, where + he expected Captain Klinefelter to put him in irons, perhaps, for it was + thought to be felony to strike a pilot. The officer took him into his + private room and closed the door. At first he looked at the culprit + thoughtfully, then he made some inquiries: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Did you strike him first?” Captain Klinefelter asked. + + “Yes, sir.” + + “What with?” + + “A stool, sir.” + + “Hard?” + + “Middling, sir.” + + “Did it knock him down?” + + “He—he fell, sir.” + + “Did you follow it up? Did you do anything further?” + + “Yes, sir.” + + “What did you do?” + + “Pounded him, sir.” + + “Pounded him?” + + “Yes, sir.” + + “Did you pound him much—that is, severely?” + + “One might call it that, sir, maybe.” + + “I am deuced glad of it! Hark ye, never mention that I said that. + You have been guilty of a great crime; and don't ever be guilty of + it again on this boat, but—lay for him ashore! Give him a good + sound thrashing; do you hear? I'll pay the expenses.”—[“Life on + the Mississippi.”] +</pre> + <p> + Captain Klinefelter told him to clear out, then, and the culprit heard him + enjoying himself as the door closed behind him. Brown, of course, forbade + him the pilothouse after that, and he spent the rest of the trip “an + emancipated slave” listening to George Ealer's flute and his + readings from Goldsmith and Shakespeare; playing chess with him sometimes, + and learning a trick which he would use himself in the long after-years—that + of taking back the last move and running out the game differently when he + saw defeat. + </p> + <p> + Brown swore that he would leave the boat at New Orleans if Sam Clemens + remained on it, and Captain Klinefelter told Brown to go. Then when + another pilot could not be obtained to fill his place, the captain offered + to let Clemens himself run the daylight watches, thus showing his + confidence in the knowledge of the young steersman, who had been only a + little more than a year at the wheel. But Clemens himself had less + confidence and advised the captain to keep Brown back to St. Louis. He + would follow up the river by another boat and resume his place as + steersman when Brown was gone. Without knowing it, he may have saved his + life by that decision. + </p> + <p> + It is doubtful if he remembered his recent disturbing dream, though some + foreboding would seem to have hung over him the night before the + Pennsylvania sailed. Henry liked to join in the night-watches on the levee + when he had finished his duties, and the brothers often walked the round + chatting together. On this particular night the elder spoke of disaster on + the river. Finally he said: + </p> + <p> + “In case of accident, whatever you do, don't lose your head—the + passengers will do that. Rush for the hurricane deck and to the life-boat, + and obey the mate's orders. When the boat is launched, help the women and + children into it. Don't get in yourself. The river is only a mile wide. + You can swim ashore easily enough.” + </p> + <p> + It was good manly advice, but it yielded a long harvest of sorrow. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVI. THE TRAGEDY OF THE “PENNSYLVANIA” + </h2> + <p> + Captain Klinefelter obtained his steersman a pass on the A. T. Lacey, + which left two days behind the Pennsylvania. This was pleasant, for Bart + Bowen had become captain of that fine boat. The Lacey touched at + Greenville, Mississippi, and a voice from the landing shouted: + </p> + <p> + “The Pennsylvania is blown up just below Memphis, at Ship Island! + One hundred and fifty lives lost!” + </p> + <p> + Nothing further could be learned there, but that evening at Napoleon a + Memphis extra reported some of the particulars. Henry Clemens's name was + mentioned as one of those, who had escaped injury. Still farther up the + river they got a later extra. Henry was again mentioned; this time as + being scalded beyond recovery. By the time they reached Memphis they knew + most of the details: At six o'clock that warm mid-June morning, while + loading wood from a large flat-boat sixty miles below Memphis, four out of + eight of the Pennsylvania's boilers had suddenly exploded with fearful + results. All the forward end of the boat had been blown out. Many persons + had been killed outright; many more had been scalded and crippled and + would die. It was one of those hopeless, wholesale steamboat slaughters + which for more than a generation had made the Mississippi a river of death + and tears. + </p> + <p> + Samuel Clemens found his brother stretched upon a mattress on the floor of + an improvised hospital—a public hall—surrounded by more than + thirty others more or less desperately injured. He was told that Henry had + inhaled steam and that his body was badly scalded. His case was considered + hopeless. + </p> + <p> + Henry was one of those who had been blown into the river by the explosion. + He had started to swim for the shore, only a few hundred yards away, but + presently, feeling no pain and believing himself unhurt, he had turned + back to assist in the rescue of the others. What he did after that could + not be clearly learned. The vessel had taken fire; the rescued were being + carried aboard the big wood-boat still attached to the wreck. The fire + soon raged so that the rescuers and all who could be saved were driven + into the wood-flat, which was then cut adrift and landed. There the + sufferers had to lie in the burning sun many hours until help could come. + Henry was among those who were insensible by that time. Perhaps he had + really been uninjured at first and had been scalded in his work of rescue; + it will never be known. + </p> + <p> + His brother, hearing these things, was thrown into the deepest agony and + remorse. He held himself to blame for everything; for Henry's presence on + the boat; for his advice concerning safety of others; for his own absence + when he might have been there to help and protect the boy. He wanted to + telegraph at once to his mother and sister to come, but the doctors + persuaded him to wait—just why, he never knew. He sent word of the + disaster to Orion, who by this time had sold out in Keokuk and was in East + Tennessee studying law; then he set himself to the all but hopeless task + of trying to bring Henry back to life. Many Memphis ladies were acting as + nurses, and one, a Miss Wood, attracted by the boy's youth and striking + features, joined in the desperate effort. Some medical students had come + to assist the doctors, and one of these also took special interest in + Henry's case. Dr. Peyton, an old Memphis practitioner, declared that with + such care the boy might pull through. + </p> + <p> + But on the fourth night he was considered to be dying. Half delirious with + grief and the strain of watching, Samuel Clemens wrote to his mother and + to his sister-in-law in Tennessee. The letter to Orion Clemens's wife has + been preserved. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MEMPHIS, TENN., Friday, June 18, 1858. + + DEAR SISTER MOLLIE,—Long before this reaches you my poor Henry—my + darling, my pride, my glory, my all will have finished his blameless + career, and the light of my life will have gone out in utter + darkness. The horrors of three days have swept over me—they have + blasted my youth and left me an old man before my time. Mollie, + there are gray hairs in my head to-night. For forty-eight hours I + labored at the bedside of my poor burned and bruised but + uncomplaining brother, and then the star of my hope went out and + left me in the gloom of despair. Men take me by the hand and + congratulate me, and call me “lucky” because I was not on the + Pennsylvania when she blew up! May God forgive them, for they know + not what they say. + + I was on the Pennsylvania five minutes before she left N. Orleans, + and I must tell you the truth, Mollie—three hundred human beings + perished by that fearful disaster. But may God bless Memphis, the + noblest city on the face of the earth. She has done her duty by + these poor afflicted creatures—especially Henry, for he has had + five—aye, ten, fifteen, twenty times the care and attention that + any one else has had. Dr. Peyton, the best physician in Memphis (he + is exactly like the portraits of Webster), sat by him for 36 hours. + There are 32 scalded men in that room, and you would know Dr. + Peyton better than I can describe him if you could follow him around + and hear each man murmur as he passes, “May the God of Heaven bless + you, Doctor!” The ladies have done well, too. Our second mate, a + handsome, noble-hearted young fellow, will die. Yesterday a + beautiful girl of 15 stooped timidly down by his side and handed him + a pretty bouquet. The poor suffering boy's eyes kindled, his lips + quivered out a gentle “God bless you, Miss,” and he burst into + tears. He made them write her name on a card for him, that he might + not forget it. + + Pray for me, Mollie, and pray for my poor sinless brother. + Your unfortunate brother, + + SAML. L. CLEMENS. + + P. S.—I got here two days after Henry. +</pre> + <p> + But, alas, this was not all, nor the worst. It would seem that Samuel + Clemens's cup of remorse must be always overfull. The final draft that + would embitter his years was added the sixth night after the accident—the + night that Henry died. He could never bring himself to write it. He was + never known to speak of it but twice. + </p> + <p> + Henry had rallied soon after the foregoing letter had been mailed, and + improved slowly that day and the next: Dr. Peyton came around about eleven + o'clock on the sixth night and made careful examination. He said: + </p> + <p> + “I believe he is out of danger and will get well. He is likely to be + restless during the night; the groans and fretting of the others will + disturb him. If he cannot rest without it, tell the physician in charge to + give him one-eighth of a grain of morphine.” + </p> + <p> + The boy did wake during the night, and was disturbed by the complaining of + the other sufferers. His brother told the young medical student in charge + what the doctor had said about the morphine. But morphine was a new drug + then; the student hesitated, saying: + </p> + <p> + “I have no way of measuring. I don't know how much an eighth of a + grain would be.” + </p> + <p> + Henry grew rapidly worse—more and more restless. His brother was + half beside himself with the torture of it. He went to the medical + student. + </p> + <p> + “If you have studied drugs,” he said, “you ought to be + able to judge an eighth of a grain of morphine.” + </p> + <p> + The young man's courage was over-swayed. He yielded and ladled out in the + old-fashioned way, on the point of a knife-blade, what he believed to be + the right amount. Henry immediately sank into a heavy sleep. He died + before morning. His chance of life had been infinitesimal, and his death + was not necessarily due to the drug, but Samuel Clemens, unsparing in his + self-blame, all his days carried the burden of it. + </p> + <p> + He saw the boy taken to the dead room, then the long strain of grief, the + days and nights without sleep, the ghastly realization of the end overcame + him. A citizen of Memphis took him away in a kind of daze and gave him a + bed in his house, where he fell into a stupor of fatigue and surrender. It + was many hours before he woke; when he did, at last, he dressed and went + to where Henry lay. The coffin provided for the dead were of unpainted + wood, but the youth and striking face of Henry Clemens had aroused a + special interest. The ladies of Memphis had made up a fund of sixty + dollars and bought for him a metallic case. Samuel Clemens entering, saw + his brother lying exactly as he had seen him in his dream, lacking only + the bouquet of white flowers with its crimson center—a detail made + complete while he stood there, for at that moment an elderly lady came in + with a large white bouquet, and in the center of it was a single red rose. + </p> + <p> + Orion arrived from Tennessee, and the brothers took their sorrowful burden + to St. Louis, subsequently to Hannibal, his old home. The death of this + lovely boy was a heavy sorrow to the community where he was known, for he + had been a favorite with all.—[For a fine characterization of Henry + Clemens the reader is referred to a letter written by Orion Clemens to + Miss Wood. See Appendix A, at the end of the last volume.] + </p> + <p> + From Hannibal the family returned to Pamela's home in St. Louis. There one + night Orion heard his brother moaning and grieving and walking the floor + of his room. By and by Sam came in to where Orion was. He could endure it + no longer, he said; he must, “tell somebody.” + </p> + <p> + Then he poured all the story of that last tragic night. It has been set + down here because it accounts for much in his after-life. It magnified his + natural compassion for the weakness and blunders of humanity, while it + increased the poor opinion implanted by the Scotchman Macfarlane of the + human being as a divine invention. Two of Mark Twain's chief + characteristics were—consideration for the human species, and + contempt for it. + </p> + <p> + In many ways he never overcame the tragedy of Henry's death. He never + really looked young again. Gray hairs had come, as he said, and they did + not disappear. His face took on the serious, pathetic look which from that + time it always had in repose. At twenty-three he looked thirty. At thirty + he looked nearer forty. After that the discrepancy in age and looks became + less notable. In vigor, complexion, and temperament he was regarded in + later life as young for his years, but never in looks. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVII. THE PILOT + </h2> + <p> + The young pilot returned to the river as steersman for George Ealer, whom + he loved, and in September of that year obtained a full license as + Mississippi River pilot.—[In Life on the Mississippi he gives his + period of learning at from two to two and a half years; but documentary + evidence as well as Mr. Bixby's testimony places the apprenticeship at + eighteen months]—Bixby had returned by this time, and they were + again together, first on the Crescent City, later on a fine new boat + called the New Falls City. Clemens was still a steersman when Bixby + returned; but as soon as his license was granted (September 9, 1858) his + old chief took him as full partner. + </p> + <p> + He was a pilot at last. In eighteen months he had packed away in his head + all the multitude of volatile statistics and acquired that confidence and + courage which made him one of the elect, a river sovereign. He knew every + snag and bank and dead tree and reef in all those endless miles between + St. Louis and New Orleans, every cut-off and current, every depth of water—the + whole story—by night and by day. He could smell danger in the dark; + he could read the surface of the water as an open page. At twenty-three he + had acquired a profession which surpassed all others for absolute + sovereignty and yielded an income equal to that then earned by the + Vice-President of the United States. Boys generally finish college at + about that age, but it is not likely that any boy ever finished college + with the mass of practical information and training that was stored away + in Samuel Clemens's head, or with his knowledge of human nature, his + preparation for battle with the world. + </p> + <p> + “Not only was he a pilot, but a good one.” These are Horace + Bixby's words, and he added: + </p> + <p> + “It is the fashion to-day to disparage Sam's piloting. Men who were + born since he was on the river and never saw him will tell you that Sam + was never much of a pilot. Most of them will tell you that he was never a + pilot at all. As a matter of fact, Sam was a fine pilot, and in a day when + piloting on the Mississippi required a great deal more brains and skill + and application than it does now. There were no signal-lights along the + shore in those days, and no search-lights on the vessels; everything was + blind, and on a dark, misty night in a river full of snags and shifting + sand—bars and changing shores, a pilot's judgment had to be founded + on absolute certainty.” + </p> + <p> + He had plenty of money now. He could help his mother with a liberal hand, + and he did it. He helped Orion, too, with money and with advice. From a + letter written toward the end of the year, we gather the new conditions. + Orion would seem to have been lamenting over prospects, and the young + pilot, strong and exalted in his new estate, urges him to renewed + consistent effort: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + What is a government without energy?—[he says]—. And what is a + man without energy? Nothing—nothing at all. What is the grandest + thing in “Paradise Lost”—the Arch-Fiend's terrible energy! What + was the greatest feature in Napoleon's character? His unconquerable + energy! Sum all the gifts that man is endowed with, and we give our + greatest share of admiration to his energy. And to-day, if I were a + heathen, I would rear a statue to Energy, and fall down and worship + it! + + I want a man to—I want you to—take up a line of action, and follow + it out, in spite of the very devil. +</pre> + <p> + Orion and his wife had returned to Keokuk by this time, waiting for + something in the way of a business opportunity. + </p> + <p> + His pilot brother, wrote him more than once letters of encouragement and + council. Here and there he refers to the tragedy of Henry's death, and the + shadow it has cast upon his life; but he was young, he was successful, his + spirits were naturally exuberant. In the exhilaration of youth and health + and success he finds vent at times in that natural human outlet, + self-approval. He not only exhibits this weakness, but confesses it with + characteristic freedom. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Putting all things together, I begin to think I am rather lucky than + otherwise—a notion which I was slow to take up. The other night I + was about to “round to” for a storm, but concluded that I could find + a smoother bank somewhere. I landed five miles below. The storm + came, passed away and did not injure us. Coming up, day before + yesterday, I looked at the spot I first chose, and half the trees on + the bank were torn to shreds. We couldn't have lived 5 minutes in + such a tornado. And I am also lucky in having a berth, while all + the other young pilots are idle. This is the luckiest circumstance + that ever befell me. Not on account of the wages—for that is a + secondary consideration-but from the fact that the City of Memphis + is the largest boat in the trade, and the hardest to pilot, and + consequently I can get a reputation on her, which is a thing I never + could accomplish on a transient boat. I can “bank” in the + neighborhood of $100 a month on her, and that will satisfy me for + the present (principally because the other youngsters are sucking + their fingers). Bless me! what a pleasure there is in revenge!—and + what vast respect Prosperity commands! Why, six months ago, I could + enter the “Rooms,” and receive only the customary fraternal greeting + now they say, “Why, how are you, old fellow—when did you get in?” + + And the young pilots who use to tell me, patronizingly, that I could + never learn the river cannot keep from showing a little of their + chagrin at seeing me so far ahead of them. Permit me to “blow my + horn,” for I derive a living pleasure from these things, and I must + confess that when I go to pay my dues, I rather like to let the + d—-d rascals get a glimpse of a hundred-dollar bill peeping out + from amongst notes of smaller dimensions whose face I do not + exhibit! You will despise this egotism, but I tell you there is a + “stern joy” in it. +</pre> + <p> + We are dwelling on this period of Mark Twain's life, for it was a period + that perhaps more than any other influenced his future years. He became + completely saturated with the river its terms, its memories, its influence + remained a definite factor in his personality to the end of his days. + Moreover, it was his first period of great triumph. Where before he had + been a subaltern not always even a wage-earner—now all in a moment + he had been transformed into a high chief. The fullest ambition of his + childhood had been realized—more than realized, for in that day he + had never dreamed of a boat or of an income of such stately proportions. + Of great personal popularity, and regarded as a safe pilot, he had been + given one of the largest, most difficult of boats. Single-handed and alone + he had fought his way into the company of kings. + </p> + <p> + And we may pardon his vanity. He could hardly fail to feel his glory and + revel in it and wear it as a halo, perhaps, a little now and then in the + Association Rooms. To this day he is remembered as a figure there, though + we may believe, regardless of his own statement, that it was not entirely + because of his success. As the boys of Hannibal had gathered around to + listen when Sam Clemens began to speak, so we may be certain that the + pilots at St. Louis and New Orleans laid aside other things when he had an + observation to make or a tale to tell. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He was much given to spinning yarns—[writes one associate of those + days]—so funny that his hearers were convulsed, and yet all the + time his own face was perfectly sober. If he laughed at all, it + must have been inside. It would have killed his hearers to do that. + Occasionally some of his droll yarns would get into the papers. He + may have written them himself. +</pre> + <p> + Another riverman of those days has recalled a story he heard Sam Clemens + tell: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We were speaking of presence of mind in accidents—we were always + talking of such things; then he said: + + “Boys, I had great presence of mind once. It was at a fire. An old + man leaned out of a four-story building calling for help. Everybody + in the crowd below looked up, but nobody did anything. The ladders + weren't long enough. Nobody had any presence of mind—nobody but + me. I came to the rescue. I yelled for a rope. When it came I + threw the old man the end of it. He caught it and I told him to tie + it around his waist. He did so, and I pulled him down.” + </pre> + <p> + This was one of the stories that got into print and traveled far. Perhaps, + as the old pilot suggests, he wrote some of them himself, for Horace Bixby + remembers that “Sam was always scribbling when not at the wheel.” + </p> + <p> + But if he published any work in those river-days he did not acknowledge it + later—with one exception. The exception was not intended for + publication, either. It was a burlesque written for the amusement of his + immediate friends. He has told the story himself, more than once, but it + belongs here for the reason that some where out of the general + circumstance of it there originated a pseudonym, one day to become the + best-known in the hemispheres the name Mark Twain. + </p> + <p> + That terse, positive, peremptory, dynamic pen-name was first used by an + old pilot named Isaiah Sellers—a sort of “oldest inhabitant” + of the river, who made the other pilots weary with the scope and antiquity + of his reminiscent knowledge. He contributed paragraphs of general + information and Nestorian opinions to the New Orleans Picayune, and signed + them “Mark Twain.” They were quaintly egotistical in tone, + usually beginning: “My opinion for the benefit of the citizens of + New Orleans,” and reciting incidents and comparisons dating as far + back as 1811. + </p> + <p> + Captain Sellers naturally was regarded as fair game by the young pilots, + who amused themselves by imitating his manner and general attitude of + speech. But Clemens went further; he wrote at considerable length a + broadly burlesque imitation signed “Sergeant Fathom,” with an + introduction which referred to the said Fathom as “one of the oldest + cub pilots on the river.” The letter that followed related a + perfectly impossible trip, supposed to have been made in 1763 by the + steamer “the old first Jubilee” with a “Chinese captain + and a Choctaw crew.” It is a gem of its kind, and will bear reprint + in full today.—[See Appendix B, at the end of the last volume.] + </p> + <p> + The burlesque delighted Bart Bowen, who was Clemens's pilot partner on the + Edward J. Gay at the time. He insisted on showing it to others and finally + upon printing it. Clemens was reluctant, but consented. It appeared in the + True Delta (May 8 or 9, 1859), and was widely and boisterously enjoyed. + </p> + <p> + It broke Captain Sellers's literary heart. He never contributed another + paragraph. Mark Twain always regretted the whole matter deeply, and his + own revival of the name was a sort of tribute to the old man he had + thoughtlessly wounded. If Captain Sellers has knowledge of material + matters now, he is probably satisfied; for these things brought to him, + and to the name he had chosen, what he could never himself have achieved—immortality. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVIII. PILOTING AND PROPHECY + </h2> + <p> + Those who knew Samuel Clemens best in those days say that he was a + slender, fine-looking man, well dressed—even dandified—given + to patent leathers, blue serge, white duck, and fancy striped shirts. Old + for his years, he heightened his appearance at times by wearing his beard + in the atrocious mutton-chop fashion, then popular, but becoming to no + one, least of all to him. The pilots regarded him as a great reader—a + student of history, travels, literature, and the sciences—a young + man whom it was an education as well as an entertainment to know. When not + at the wheel, he was likely to be reading or telling yarns in the + Association Rooms. + </p> + <p> + He began the study of French one day when he passed a school of languages, + where three tongues, French, German, and Italian, were taught, one in each + of three rooms. The price was twenty-five dollars for one language, or + three for fifty dollars. The student was provided with a set of cards for + each room and supposed to walk from one apartment to another, changing + tongues at each threshold. With his unusual enthusiasm and prodigality, + the young pilot decided to take all three languages, but after the first + two or three round trips concluded that for the present French would do. + He did not return to the school, but kept his cards and bought text-books. + He must have studied pretty faithfully when he was off watch and in port, + for his river note-book contains a French exercise, all neatly written, + and it is from the Dialogues of Voltaire. + </p> + <p> + This old note-book is interesting for other things. The notes are no + longer timid, hesitating memoranda, but vigorous records made with the + dash of assurance that comes from confidence and knowledge, and with the + authority of one in supreme command. Under the head of “2d + high-water trip—Jan., 1861—Alonzo Child,” we have the + story of a rising river with its overflowing banks, its blind passages and + cut-offs—all the circumstance and uncertainty of change. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Good deal of water all over Coles Creek Chute, 12 or 15 ft. bank + —could have gone up shore above General Taylor's—too much drift.... + + Night—didn't run either 77 or 76 towheads—8 ft. bank on main shore + Ozark Chute.... +</pre> + <p> + And so on page after page of cryptographic memoranda. It means little + enough to the lay reader, yet one gets an impression somehow of the + swirling, turbulent water and a lonely figure in that high glassed-in + place peering into the dark for blind land-marks and possible dangers, + picking his way up the dim, hungry river of which he must know every foot + as well as a man knows the hall of his own home. All the qualifications + must come into play, then memory, judgment, courage, and the high art of + steering. “Steering is a very high, art,” he says; “one + must not keep a rudder dragging across a boat's stern if he wants to get + up the river fast.” + </p> + <p> + He had an example of the perfection of this art one misty night on the + Alonzo Child. Nearly fifty years later, sitting on his veranda in the + dark, he recalled it. He said: + </p> + <p> + “There was a pilot in those days by the name of Jack Leonard who was + a perfectly wonderful creature. I do not know that Jack knew anymore about + the river than most of us and perhaps could not read the water any better, + but he had a knack of steering away ahead of our ability, and I think he + must have had an eye that could see farther into the darkness. + </p> + <p> + “I had never seen Leonard steer, but I had heard a good deal about + it. I had heard it said that the crankiest old tub afloat—one that + would kill any other man to handle—would obey and be as docile as a + child when Jack Leonard took the wheel. I had a chance one night to verify + that for myself. We were going up the river, and it was one of the + nastiest nights I ever saw. Besides that, the boat was loaded in such a + way that she steered very hard, and I was half blind and crazy trying to + locate the safe channel, and was pulling my arms out to keep her in it. It + was one of those nights when everything looks the same whichever way you + look: just two long lines where the sky comes down to the trees and where + the trees meet the water with all the trees precisely the same height—all + planted on the same day, as one of the boys used to put it—and not a + thing to steer by except the knowledge in your head of the real shape of + the river. Some of the boats had what they call a 'night hawk' on the + jackstaff, a thing which you could see when it was in the right position + against the sky or the water, though it seldom was in the right position + and was generally pretty useless. + </p> + <p> + “I was in a bad way that night and wondering how I could ever get + through it, when the pilot-house door opened, and Jack Leonard walked in. + He was a passenger that trip, and I had forgotten he was aboard. I was + just about in the worst place and was pulling the boat first one way, then + another, running the wheel backward and forward, and climbing it like a + squirrel. + </p> + <p> + “'Sam,' he said, 'let me take the wheel. Maybe I have been over this + place since you have.' + </p> + <p> + “I didn't argue the question. Jack took the wheel, gave it a little + turn one way, then a little turn the other; that old boat settled down as + quietly as a lamb—went right along as if it had been broad daylight + in a river without snags, bars, bottom, or banks, or anything that one + could possibly hit. I never saw anything so beautiful. He stayed my watch + out for me, and I hope I was decently grateful. I have never forgotten it.” + </p> + <p> + The old note-book contained the record of many such nights as that; but + there were other nights, too, when the stars were blazing out, or when the + moon on the water made the river a wide mysterious way of speculative + dreams. He was always speculating; the planets and the remote suns were + always a marvel to him. A love of astronomy—the romance of it, its + vast distances, and its possibilities—began with those lonely + river-watches and never waned to his last day. For a time a great comet + blazed in the heavens, a “wonderful sheaf of light” that + glorified his lonely watch. Night after night he watched it as it + developed and then grew dim, and he read eagerly all the comet literature + that came to his hand, then or afterward. He speculated of many things: of + life, death, the reason of existence, of creation, the ways of Providence + and Destiny. It was a fruitful time for such meditation; out of such + vigils grew those larger philosophies that would find expression later, + when the years had conferred the magic gift of phrase. + </p> + <p> + Life lay all ahead of him then, and during those still watches he must + have revolved many theories of how the future should be met and mastered. + In the old notebook there still remains a well-worn clipping, the words of + some unknown writer, which he had preserved and may have consulted as a + sort of creed. It is an interesting little document—a prophetic one, + the reader may concede: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HOW TO TAKE LIFE.—Take it just as though it was—as it is—an + earnest, vital, and important affair. Take it as though you were + born to the task of performing a merry part in it—as though the + world had awaited for your coming. Take it as though it was a grand + opportunity to do and achieve, to carry forward great and good + schemes; to help and cheer a suffering, weary, it may be + heartbroken, brother. Now and then a man stands aside from the + crowd, labors earnestly, steadfastly, confidently, and straightway + becomes famous for wisdom, intellect, skill, greatness of some sort. + The world wonders, admires, idolizes, and it only illustrates what + others may do if they take hold of life with a purpose. The + miracle, or the power that elevates the few, is to be found in their + industry, application, and perseverance under the promptings of a + brave, determined spirit. +</pre> + <p> + The old note-book contains no record of disasters. Horace Bixby, who + should know, has declared: + </p> + <p> + “Sam Clemens never had an accident either as a steersman or as a + pilot, except once when he got aground for a few hours in the bagasse + (cane) smoke, with no damage to anybody though of course there was some + good luck in that too, for the best pilots do not escape trouble, now and + then.” + </p> + <p> + Bixby and Clemens were together that winter on the Alonzo Child, and a + letter to Orion contains an account of great feasting which the two + enjoyed at a “French restaurant” in New Orleans—“dissipating + on a ten-dollar dinner—tell it not to Ma!”—where they + had sheepshead fish, oysters, birds, mushrooms, and what not, “after + which the day was too far gone to do anything.” So it appears that + he was not always reading Macaulay or studying French and astronomy, but + sometimes went frivoling with his old chief, now his chum, always his dear + friend. + </p> + <p> + Another letter records a visit with Pamela to a picture-gallery in St. + Louis where was being exhibited Church's “Heart of the Andes.” + He describes the picture in detail and with vast enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + “I have seen it several times,” he concludes, “but it is + always a new picture—totally new—you seem to see nothing the + second time that you saw the first.” + </p> + <p> + Further along he tells of having taken his mother and the girls—his + cousin Ella Creel and another—for a trip down the river to New + Orleans. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ma was delighted with her trip, but she was disgusted with the girls + for allowing me to embrace and kiss them—and she was horrified at + the 'schottische' as performed by Miss Castle and myself. She was + perfectly willing for me to dance until 12 o'clock at the imminent + peril of my going to sleep on the after-watch—but then she would + top off with a very inconsistent sermon on dancing in general; + ending with a terrific broadside aimed at that heresy of heresies, + the 'schottische'. + + I took Ma and the girls in a carriage round that portion of New + Orleans where the finest gardens and residences are to be seen, and, + although it was a blazing hot, dusty day, they seemed hugely + delighted. To use an expression which is commonly ignored in polite + society, they were “hell-bent” on stealing some of the luscious- + looking oranges from branches which overhung the fence, but I + restrained them. +</pre> + <p> + In another letter of this period we get a hint of the future Mark Twain. + It was written to John T. Moore, a young clerk on the John J. Roe. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + What a fool old Adam was. Had everything his own way; had succeeded + in gaining the love of the best-looking girl in the neighborhood, + but yet, unsatisfied with his conquest, he had to eat a miserable + little apple. Ah, John, if you had been in his place you would not + have eaten a mouthful of the apple—that is, if it had required any + exertion. I have noticed that you shun exertion. There comes in + the difference between us. I court exertion. I love work. Why, + sir, when I have a piece of work to perform, I go away to myself, + sit down in the shade, and muse over the coming enjoyment. + Sometimes I am so industrious that I muse too long. +</pre> + <p> + There remains another letter of this period—a sufficiently curious + document. There was in those days a famous New Orleans clairvoyant known + as Madame Caprell. Some of the young pilot's friends had visited her and + obtained what seemed to be satisfying results. From time to time they had + urged him to visit the fortune-teller, and one idle day he concluded to + make the experiment. As soon as he came away he wrote to Orion in detail. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + She's a very pleasant little lady—rather pretty—about 28—say + 5 feet 2 1/4—would weigh 116—has black eyes and hair—is polite + and intelligent—used good language, and talks much faster than I + do. + + She invited me into the little back parlor, closed the door; and we + were alone. We sat down facing each other. Then she asked my age. + Then she put her hands before her eyes a moment, and commenced + talking as if she had a good deal to say and not much time to say it + in. Something after this style: + + 'Madame.' Yours is a watery planet; you gain your livelihood on the + water; but you should have been a lawyer—there is where your + talents lie; you might have distinguished yourself as an orator, or + as an editor—, you have written a great deal; you write well—but + you are rather out of practice; no matter—you will be in practice + some day; you have a superb constitution, and as excellent health as + any man in the world; you have great powers of endurance; in your + profession your strength holds out against the longest sieges + without flagging; still, the upper part of your lungs, the top of + them, is slightly affected—you must take care of yourself; you do + not drink, but you use entirely too much tobacco; and you must stop + it; mind, not moderate, but stop the use of it, totally; then I can + almost promise you 86, when you will surely die; otherwise, look out + for 28, 31, 34, 47, and 65; be careful—for you are not of a long- + lived race, that is, on your father's side; you are the only healthy + member of your family, and the only one in it who has anything like + the certainty of attaining to a great age—so, stop using tobacco, + and be careful of yourself.... In some respects you take after your + father, but you are much more like your mother, who belongs to the + long-lived, energetic side of the house.... You never brought all + your energies to bear upon any subject but what you accomplished it + —for instance, you are self-made, self-educated. + + 'S. L. C.' Which proves nothing. + + 'Madame.' Don't interrupt. When you sought your present + occupation, you found a thousand obstacles in your way—obstacles + unknown—not even suspected by any save you and me, since you keep + such matter to yourself—but you fought your way, and hid the long + struggle under a mask of cheerfulness, which saved your friends + anxiety on your account. To do all this requires the qualities + which I have named. + + 'S. L. C.' You flatter well, Madame. + + 'Madame.' Don't interrupt. Up to within a short time you had + always lived from hand to mouth—now you are in easy circumstances + —for which you need give credit to no one but yourself. The + turning-point in your life occurred in 1840-7-8. + + 'S. L. C.' Which was? + + 'Madame.' A death, perhaps, and this threw you upon the world and + made you what you are; it was always intended that you should make + yourself; therefore, it was well that this calamity occurred as + early as it did. You will never die of water, although your career + upon it in the future seems well sprinkled with misfortune. You + will continue upon the water for some time yet; you will not retire + finally until ten years from now.... What is your brother's age? + 23—and a lawyer? and in pursuit of an office? Well, he stands a + better chance than the other two, and he may get it; he is too + visionary—is always flying off on a new hobby; this will never do + —tell him I said so. He is a good lawyer—a very good lawyer—and + a fine speaker—is very popular and much respected, and makes many + friends; but although he retains their friendship, he loses their + confidence by displaying his instability of character.... The land + he has now will be very valuable after a while—— + 'S. L. C.' Say 250 years hence, or thereabouts, Madame—— + 'Madame.' No—less time—but never mind the land, that is a + secondary consideration—let him drop that for the present, and + devote himself to his business and politics with all his might, for + he must hold offices under Government.... + + After a while you will possess a good deal of property—retire at + the end of ten years—after which your pursuits will be literary + —try the law—you will certainly succeed. I am done now. If you + have any questions to ask—ask them freely—and if it be in my + power, I will answer without reserve—without reserve. + + I asked a few questions of minor importance-paid her and left-under + the decided impression that going to the fortune-teller's was just + as good as going to the opera, and cost scarcely a trifle more + —ergo, I will disguise myself and go again, one of these days, when + other amusements fail. Now isn't she the devil? That is to say, + isn't she a right smart little woman? + + When you want money, let Ma know, and she will send it. She and + Pamela are always fussing about change, so I sent them a hundred and + twenty quarters yesterday—fiddler's change enough to last till I + get back, I reckon. + SAM. +</pre> + <p> + In the light of preceding and subsequent events, we must confess that + Madame Caprell was “indeed a right smart little woman.” She + made mistakes enough (the letter is not quoted in full), but when we + remember that she not only gave his profession at the moment, but at least + suggested his career for the future; that she approximated the year of his + father's death as the time when he was thrown upon the world; that she + admonished him against his besetting habit, tobacco; that she read. + minutely not only his characteristics, but his brother Orion's; that she + outlined the struggle in his conquest of the river; that she seemingly had + knowledge of Orion's legal bent and his connection with the Tennessee + land, all seems remarkable enough, supposing, of course, she had no + material means of acquiring knowledge—one can never know certainly + about such things. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIX. THE END OF PILOTING + </h2> + <p> + It is curious, however, that Madame Caprell, with clairvoyant vision, + should not have seen an important event then scarcely more than two months + distant: the breaking-out of the Civil War, with the closing of the river + and the end of Mark Twain's career as a pilot. Perhaps these things were + so near as to be “this side” the range of second sight. + </p> + <p> + There had been plenty of war-talk, but few of the pilots believed that war + was really coming. Traveling that great commercial highway, the river, + with intercourse both of North and South, they did not believe that any + political differences would be allowed to interfere with the nation's + trade, or would be settled otherwise than on the street corners, in the + halls of legislation, and at the polls. True, several States, including + Louisiana, had declared the Union a failure and seceded; but the majority + of opinions were not clear as to how far a State had rights in such a + matter, or as to what the real meaning of secession might be. + Comparatively few believed it meant war. Samuel Clemens had no such + belief. His Madame Caprell letter bears date of February 6, 1861, yet + contains no mention of war or of any special excitement in New Orleans—no + forebodings as to national conditions. + </p> + <p> + Such things came soon enough: President Lincoln was inaugurated on the 4th + of March, and six weeks later Fort Sumter was fired upon. Men began to + speak out then and to take sides. + </p> + <p> + It was a momentous time in the Association Rooms. There were pilots who + would go with the Union; there were others who would go with the + Confederacy. Horace Bixby was one of the former, and in due time became + chief of the Union River Service. Another pilot named Montgomery (Samuel + Clemens had once steered for him) declared for the South, and later + commanded the Confederate Mississippi fleet. They were all good friends, + and their discussions, though warm, were not always acrimonious; but they + took sides. + </p> + <p> + A good many were not very clear as to their opinions. Living both North + and South as they did, they saw various phases of the question and divided + their sympathies. Some were of one conviction one day and of another the + next. Samuel Clemens was of the less radical element. He knew there was a + good deal to be said for either cause; furthermore, he was not then + bloodthirsty. A pilot-house with its elevated position and transparency + seemed a poor place to be in when fighting was going on. + </p> + <p> + “I'll think about it,” he said. “I'm not very anxious to + get up into a glass perch and be shot at by either side. I'll go home and + reflect on the matter.” + </p> + <p> + He did not realize it, but he had made his last trip as a pilot. It is + rather curious that his final brief note-book entry should begin with his + future nom de plume—a memorandum of soundings—“mark + twain,” and should end with the words “no lead.” + </p> + <p> + He went up the river as a passenger on a steamer named the Uncle Sam. Zeb + Leavenworth was one of the pilots, and Sam Clemens usually stood watch + with him. They heard war-talk all the way and saw preparations, but they + were not molested, though at Memphis they basely escaped the blockade. At + Cairo, Illinois, they saw soldiers drilling—troops later commanded + by Grant. The Uncle Sam came steaming up toward St. Louis, those on board + congratulating themselves on having come through unscathed. They were not + quite through, however. Abreast of Jefferson Barracks they suddenly heard + the boom of a cannon and saw a great whorl of smoke drifting in their + direction. They did not realize that it was a signal—a thunderous + halt—and kept straight on. Less than a minute later there was + another boom, and a shell exploded directly in front of the pilot-house, + breaking a lot of glass and destroying a good deal of the upper + decoration. Zeb Leavenworth fell back into a corner with a yell. + </p> + <p> + “Good Lord Almighty! Sam;” he said, “what do they mean + by that?” + </p> + <p> + Clemens stepped to the wheel and brought the boat around. “I guess + they want us to wait a minute, Zeb,” he said. + </p> + <p> + They were examined and passed. It was the last steamboat to make the trip + from New Orleans to St. Louis. Mark Twain's pilot-days were over. He would + have grieved had he known this fact. + </p> + <p> + “I loved the profession far better than any I have followed since,” + he long afterward declared, “and I took a measureless pride in it.” + </p> + <p> + The dreamy, easy, romantic existence suited him exactly. A sovereign and + an autocrat, the pilot's word was law; he wore his responsibilities as a + crown. As long as he lived Samuel Clemens would return to those old days + with fondness and affection, and with regret that they were no more. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXX. THE SOLDIER + </h2> + <p> + Clemens spent a few days in St. Louis (in retirement, for there was a + pressing war demand for Mississippi pilots), then went up to Hannibal to + visit old friends. They were glad enough to see him, and invited him to + join a company of gay military enthusiasts who were organizing to “help + Gov. 'Claib' Jackson repel the invader.” A good many companies were + forming in and about Hannibal, and sometimes purposes were conflicting and + badly mixed. Some of the volunteers did not know for a time which invader + they intended to drive from Missouri soil, and more than one company in + the beginning was made up of young fellows whose chief ambition was to + have a lark regardless as to which cause they might eventually espouse. + —[The military organizations of Hannibal and Palmyra, in 1861, were + as follows: The Marion Artillery; the Silver Grays; Palmyra Guards; the W. + E. Dennis company, and one or two others. Most of them were small private + affairs, usually composed of about half-and-half Union and Confederate + men, who knew almost nothing of the questions or conditions, and disbanded + in a brief time, to attach themselves to the regular service according as + they developed convictions. The general idea of these companies was a + little camping-out expedition and a good time. One such company one + morning received unexpected reinforcements. They saw the approach of the + recruits, and, remarking how well drilled the new arrivals seemed to be, + mistook them for the enemy and fled.] + </p> + <p> + Samuel Clemens had by this time decided, like Lee, that he would go with + his State and lead battalions to victory. The “battalion” in + this instance consisted of a little squad of young fellows of his own age, + mostly pilots and schoolmates, including Sam Bowen, Ed Stevens, and Ab + Grimes, about a dozen, all told. They organized secretly, for the Union + militia was likely to come over from Illinois any time and look up any + suspicious armies that made an open demonstration. An army might lose + enthusiasm and prestige if it spent a night or two in the calaboose. + </p> + <p> + So they met in a secret place above Bear Creek Hill, just as Tom Sawyer's + red-handed bandits had gathered so long before (a good many of them were + of the same lawless lot), and they planned how they would sell their lives + on the field of glory, just as Tom Sawyer's band might have done if it had + thought about playing “War,” instead of “Indian” + and “Pirate” and “Bandit” with fierce raids on + peach orchards and melon patches. Then, on the evening before marching + away, they stealthily called on their sweethearts—those who had them + did, and the others pretended sweethearts for the occasion—and when + it was dark and mysterious they said good-by and suggested that maybe + those girls would never see them again. And as always happens in such a + case, some of them were in earnest, and two or three of the little group + that slipped away that night never did come back, and somewhere sleep in + unmarked graves. + </p> + <p> + The “two Sams”—Sam Bowen and Sam Clemens—called on + Patty Gore and Julia Willis for their good-by visit, and, when they left, + invited the girls to “walk through the pickets” with them, + which they did as far as Bear Creek Hill. The girls didn't notice any + pickets, because the pickets were away calling on girls, too, and probably + wouldn't be back to begin picketing for some time. So the girls stood + there and watched the soldiers march up Bear Creek Hill and disappear + among the trees. + </p> + <p> + The army had a good enough time that night, marching through the brush and + vines toward New London, though this sort of thing grew rather monotonous + by morning. When they took a look at themselves by daylight, with their + nondescript dress and accoutrements, there was some thing about it all + which appealed to one's sense of humor rather than to his patriotism. + Colonel Ralls, of Ralls County, however, received them cordially and made + life happier for them with a good breakfast and some encouraging words. He + was authorized to administer the oath of office, he said, and he proceeded + to do it, and made them a speech besides; also he sent out notice to some + of the neighbors—to Col. Bill Splawn, Farmer Nuck Matson, and others—that + the community had an army on its hands and perhaps ought to do something + for it. This brought in a number of contributions, provisions, + paraphernalia, and certain superfluous horses and mules, which converted + the battalion into a cavalry, and made it possible for it to move on to + the front without further delay. Samuel Clemens, mounted on a small yellow + mule whose tail had been trimmed down to a tassel at the end in a style + that suggested his name, Paint Brush, upholstered and supplemented with an + extra pair of cowskin boots, a pair of gray blankets, a home-made quilt, + frying-pan, a carpet sack, a small valise, an overcoat, an old-fashioned + Kentucky rifle, twenty yards of rope, and an umbrella, was a + representative unit of the brigade. The proper thing for an army loaded + like that was to go into camp, and they did it. They went over on Salt + River, near Florida, and camped not far from a farm-house with a big log + stable; the latter they used as headquarters. Somebody suggested that when + they went into battle they ought to have short hair, so that in a + hand-to-hand conflict the enemy could not get hold of it. Tom Lyon found a + pair of sheep-shears in the stable and acted as barber. They were not very + sharp shears, but the army stood the torture for glory in the field, and a + group of little darkies collected from the farm-house to enjoy the + performance. The army then elected its officers. William Ely was chosen + captain, with Asa Glasscock as first lieutenant. Samuel Clemens was then + voted second lieutenant, and there were sergeants and orderlies. There + were only three privates when the election was over, and these could not + be distinguished by their deportment. There was scarcely any discipline in + this army. + </p> + <p> + Then it set in to rain. It rained by day and it rained by night. Salt + River rose until it was bank full and overflowed the bottoms. Twice there + was a false night alarm of the enemy approaching, and the battalion went + slopping through the mud and brush into the dark, picking out the best way + to retreat, plodding miserably back to camp when the alarm was over. Once + they fired a volley at a row of mullen stalks, waving on the brow of a + hill, and once a picket shot at his own horse that had got loose and had + wandered toward him in the dusk. + </p> + <p> + The rank and file did not care for picket duty. Sam Bowen—ordered by + Lieutenant Clemens to go on guard one afternoon—denounced his + superior and had to be threatened with court-martial and death. Sam went + finally, but he sat in a hot open place and swore at the battalion and the + war in general, and finally went to sleep in the broiling sun. These + things began to tell on patriotism. Presently Lieutenant Clemens developed + a boil, and was obliged to make himself comfortable with some hay in a + horse-trough, where he lay most of the day, violently denouncing the war + and the fools that invented it. Then word came that “General” + Tom Harris, who was in command of the district, was stopping at a + farmhouse two miles away, living on the fat of the land. + </p> + <p> + That settled it. Most of them knew Tom Harris, and they regarded his + neglect of them as perfidy. They broke camp without further ceremony. + </p> + <p> + Lieutenant Clemens needed assistance to mount Paint Brush, and the little + mule refused to cross the river; so Ab Grimes took the coil of rope, + hitched one end of it to his own saddle and the other end to Paint Brush's + neck. Grimes was mounted on a big horse, and when he started it was + necessary for Paint Brush to follow. Arriving at the farther bank, Grimes + looked around, and was horrified to see that the end of the rope led down + in the water with no horse and rider in view. He spurred up the bank, and + the hat of Lieutenant Clemens and the ears of Paint Brush appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said Clemens, as he mopped his face, “do you know + that little devil waded all the way across?” + </p> + <p> + A little beyond the river they met General Harris, who ordered them back + to camp. They admonished him to “go there himself.” They said + they had been in that camp and knew all about it. They were going now + where there was food—real food and plenty of it. Then he begged + them, but it was no use. By and by they stopped at a farm-house for + supplies. A tall, bony woman came to the door: + </p> + <p> + “You're secesh, ain't you?” + </p> + <p> + They acknowledged that they were defenders of the cause and that they + wanted to buy provisions. The request seemed to inflame her. + </p> + <p> + “Provisions!” she screamed. “Provisions for secesh, and + my husband a colonel in the Union Army. You get out of here!” + </p> + <p> + She reached for a hickory hoop-pole that stood by the door, and the army + moved on. When they arrived at Col. Bill Splawn's that night Colonel + Splawn and his family had gone to bed, and it seemed unwise to disturb + them. The hungry army camped in the barnyard and crept into the hay-loft + to sleep. Presently somebody yelled “Fire!” One of the boys + had been smoking and started the hay. Lieutenant Clemens suddenly wakened, + made a quick rolling movement from the blaze, and rolled out of a big + hay-window into the barnyard below. The rest of the army, startled into + action, seized the burning hay and pitched it out of the same window. The + lieutenant had sprained his ankle when he struck the ground, and his boil + was far from well, but when the burning hay descended he forgot his + disabilities. Literally and figuratively this was the final straw. With a + voice and vigor suited to the urgencies of the case, he made a spring from + under the burning stuff, flung off the remnants, and with them his last + vestige of interest in the war. The others, now that the fire was, out, + seemed to think the incident boisterously amusing. Whereupon the + lieutenant rose up and told them, collectively and individually, what he + thought of them; also he spoke of the war and the Confederacy, and of the + human race at large. They helped him in, then, for his ankle was swelling + badly. Next morning, when Colonel Splawn had given them a good breakfast, + the army set out for New London. + </p> + <p> + But Lieutenant Clemens never got any farther than Nuck Matson's + farm-house. His ankle was so painful by that time that Mrs. Matson had him + put to bed, where he stayed for several weeks, recovering from the injury + and stress of war. A little negro boy was kept on watch for Union + detachments—they were passing pretty frequently now—and when + one came in sight the lieutenant was secluded until the danger passed. + When he was able to travel, he had had enough of war and the Confederacy. + He decided to visit Orion in Keokuk. Orion was a Union abolitionist and + might lead him to mend his doctrines. + </p> + <p> + As for the rest of the army, it was no longer a unit in the field. Its + members had drifted this way and that, some to return to their + occupations, some to continue in the trade of war. Sam Bowen is said to + have been caught by the Federal troops and put to sawing wood in the + stockade at Hannibal. Ab (A. C.) Grimes became a noted Confederate spy and + is still among those who have lived to furnish the details here set down. + Properly officered and disciplined, that detachment would have made as + brave soldiers as any. Military effectiveness is a matter of leaders and + tactics. + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain's own Private History of a 'Campaign that Failed' is, of + course, built on this episode. He gives us a delicious account, even if it + does not strikingly resemble the occurrence. The story might have been + still better if he had not introduced the shooting of the soldier in the + dark. The incident was invented, of course, to present the real horror of + war, but it seems incongruous in this burlesque campaign, and, to some + extent at least, it missed fire in its intention. —[In a book + recently published, Mark Twain's “nephew” is quoted as + authority for the statement that Mark Twain was detailed for river duty, + captured, and paroled, captured again, and confined in a tobacco-warehouse + in St. Louis, etc. Mark Twain had but one nephew: Samuel E. Moffett, whose + Biographical Sketch (vol. xxii, Mark Twain's Works) contains no such + statement; and nothing of the sort occurred.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXI. OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY + </h2> + <p> + When Madame Caprell prophesied that Orion Clemens would hold office under + government, she must have seen with true clairvoyant vision. The + inauguration of Abraham Lincoln brought Edward Bates into his Cabinet, and + Bates was Orion's friend. Orion applied for something, and got it. James + W. Nye had been appointed Territorial governor of Nevada, and Orion was + made Territorial secretary. You could strain a point and refer to the + office as “secretary of state,” which was an imposing title. + Furthermore, the secretary would be acting governor in the governor's + absence, and there would be various subsidiary honors. When Lieutenant + Clemens arrived in Keokuk, Orion was in the first flush of his triumph and + needed only money to carry him to the scene of new endeavor. The late + lieutenant C. S. A. had accumulated money out of his pilot salary, and + there was no comfortable place just then in the active Middle West for an + officer of either army who had voluntarily retired from the service. He + agreed that if Orion would overlook his recent brief defection from the + Union and appoint him now as his (Orion's) secretary, he would supply the + funds for both overland passages, and they would start with no unnecessary + delay for a country so new that all human beings, regardless of previous + affiliations and convictions, were flung into the common fusing-pot and + recast in the general mold of pioneer. + </p> + <p> + The offer was a boon to Orion. He was always eager to forgive, and the + money was vitally necessary. In the briefest possible time he had packed + his belongings, which included a large unabridged dictionary, and the + brothers were on their way to St. Louis for final leave-taking before + setting out for the great mysterious land of promise—the Pacific + West. From St. Louis they took the boat for St. Jo, whence the Overland + stage started, and for six days “plodded” up the shallow, + muddy, snaggy Missouri, a new experience for the pilot of the Father of + Waters. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In fact, the boat might almost as well have gone to St. Jo by land, + for she was walking most of the time, anyhow—climbing over reefs + and clambering over snags patiently and laboriously all day long. + The captain said she was a “bully” boat, and all she wanted was some + “shear” and a bigger wheel. I thought she wanted a pair of stilts, + but I had the deep sagacity not to say so.'—['Roughing It'.]— +</pre> + <p> + At St. Jo they paid one hundred and fifty dollars apiece for their stage + fare (with something extra for the dictionary), and on the twenty-sixth of + July, 1861, set out on that long, delightful trip behind sixteen galloping + horses—or mules—never stopping except for meals or to change + teams, heading steadily into the sunset, following it from horizon to + horizon over the billowy plains, across the snow-clad Rockies, covering + the seventeen hundred miles between St. Jo and Carson City (including a + two-day halt in Salt Lake City) in nineteen glorious days. What an + inspiration in such a trip! In 'Roughing It' he tells it all, and says: + “Even at this day it thrills me through and through to think of the + life, the gladness, and the wild sense of freedom that used to make the + blood dance in my face on those fine Overland mornings.” + </p> + <p> + The nights, with the uneven mail-bags for a bed and the bounding + dictionary for company, were less exhilarating; but then youth does not + mind. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + All things being now ready, stowed the uneasy dictionary where it + would lie as quiet as possible, and placed the water-canteen and + pistols where we could find them in the dark. Then we smoked a + final pipe and swapped a final yarn; after which we put the pipes, + tobacco, and bag of coin in snug holes and caves among the mail- + bags, and made the place as dark as the inside of a cow, as the + conductor phrased it in his picturesque way. It was certainly as + dark as any place could be—nothing was even dimly visible in it. + And finally we rolled ourselves up like silkworms, each person in + his own blanket, and sank peacefully to sleep. +</pre> + <p> + Youth loves that sort of thing, despite its inconvenience. And sometimes + the clatter of the pony-rider swept by in the night, carrying letters at + five dollars apiece and making the Overland trip in eight days; just a + quick beat of hoofs in the distance, a dash, and a hail from the darkness, + the beat of hoofs again, then only the rumble of the stage and the even, + swinging gallop of the mules. Sometimes they got a glimpse of the + ponyrider by day—a flash, as it were, as he sped by. And every + morning brought new scenery, new phases of frontier life, including, at + last, what was to them the strangest phase of all, Mormonism. + </p> + <p> + They spent two wonderful days at Salt Lake City, that mysterious and + remote capital of the great American monarchy, who still flaunts her + lawless, orthodox creed the religion of David and Solomon—and + thrives. An obliging official made it his business to show them the city + and the life there, the result of which would be those amusing chapters in + 'Roughing It' by and by. The Overland travelers set out refreshed from + Salt Lake City, and with a new supply of delicacies—ham, eggs, and + tobacco—things that make such a trip worth while. The author of + 'Roughing It' assures us of this: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Nothing helps scenery like ham and eggs. Ham and eggs, and after + these a pipe—an old, rank, delicious pipe—ham and eggs and + scenery, a “down-grade,” a flying coach, a fragrant pipe, and a + contented heart—these make happiness. It is what all the ages have + struggled for. +</pre> + <p> + But one must read all the story of that long-ago trip. It was a trip so + well worth taking, so well worth recording, so well worth reading and + rereading to-day. We can only read of it now. The Overland stage long ago + made its last trip, and will not start any more. Even if it did, the life + and conditions, the very scenery itself, would not be the same. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXII. THE PIONEER + </h2> + <p> + It was a hot, dusty August 14th that the stage reached Carson City and + drew up before the Ormsby Hotel. It was known that the Territorial + secretary was due to arrive; and something in the nature of a reception, + with refreshments and frontier hospitality, had been planned. Governor + Nye, formerly police commissioner in New York City, had arrived a short + time before, and with his party of retainers (“heelers” we + would call them now), had made an imposing entrance. Perhaps something of + the sort was expected with the advent of the secretary of state. Instead, + the committee saw two way-worn individuals climb down from the stage, + unkempt, unshorn—clothed in the roughest of frontier costume, the + same they had put on at St. Jo—dusty, grimy, slouchy, and + weather-beaten with long days of sun and storm and alkali desert dust. It + is not likely there were two more unprepossessing officials on the Pacific + coast at that moment than the newly arrived Territorial secretary and his + brother: Somebody identified them, and the committee melted away; the + half-formed plan of a banquet faded out and was not heard of again. Soap + and water and fresh garments worked a transformation; but that first + impression had been fatal to festivities of welcome. + </p> + <p> + Carson City, the capital of Nevada, was a “wooden town,” with + a population of two thousand souls. Its main street consisted of a few + blocks of small frame stores, some of which are still standing. In + 'Roughing It' the author writes: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In the middle of the town, opposite the stores, was a “Plaza,” which + is native to all towns beyond the Rocky Mountains, a large, + unfenced, level vacancy with a Liberty Pole in it, and very useful + as a place for public auctions, horse trades, and mass-meetings, and + likewise for teamsters to camp in. Two other sides of the Plaza + were faced by stores, offices, and stables. The rest of Carson City + was pretty scattering. +</pre> + <p> + One sees the place pretty clearly from this brief picture of his, but it + requires an extract from a letter written to his mother somewhat later to + populate it. The mineral excitement was at its height in those days of the + early sixties, and had brought together such a congress of nations as only + the greed for precious metal can assemble. The sidewalks and streets of + Carson, and the Plaza, thronged all day with a motley aggregation—a + museum of races, which it was an education merely to gaze upon. Jane + Clemens had required him to write everything just as it was—“no + better and no worse.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Well—[he says]—, “Gold Hill” sells at $5,000 per foot, cash down; + “Wild Cat” isn't worth ten cents. The country is fabulously rich in + gold, silver, copper, lead, coal, iron, quicksilver, marble, + granite, chalk, plaster of Paris (gypsum), thieves, murderers, + desperadoes, ladies, children, lawyers, Christians, Indians, + Chinamen, Spaniards, gamblers, sharpens; coyotes (pronounced ki-yo- + ties), poets, preachers, and jackass rabbits. I overheard a + gentleman say, the other day, that it was “the d—-dest country + under the sun,” and that comprehensive conception I fully subscribe + to. It never rains here, and the dew never falls. No flowers grow + here, and no green thing gladdens the eye. The birds that fly over + the land carry their provisions with them. Only the crow and the + raven tarry with us. Our city lies in the midst of a desert of the + purest, most unadulterated and uncompromising sand, in which + infernal soil nothing but that fag-end of vegetable creation, “sage- + brush,” ventures to grow.... I said we are situated in a flat, + sandy desert—true. And surrounded on all sides by such prodigious + mountains that when you look disdainfully down (from them) upon the + insignificant village of Carson, in that instant you are seized with + a burning desire to stretch forth your hand, put the city in your + pocket, and walk off with it. + + As to churches, I believe they have got a Catholic one here, but, + like that one the New York fireman spoke of, I believe “they don't + run her now.” + </pre> + <p> + Carson has been through several phases of change since this was written—for + better and for worse. It is a thriving place in these later days, and new + farming conditions have improved the country roundabout. But it was a + desert outpost then, a catch-all for the human drift which every whirlwind + of discovery sweeps along. Gold and silver hunting and mine speculations + were the industries—gambling, drinking, and murder were the + diversions—of the Nevada capital. Politics developed in due course, + though whether as a business or a diversion is not clear at this time. + </p> + <p> + The Clemens brothers took lodging with a genial Irishwoman, Mrs. Murphy, a + New York retainer of Governor Nye, who boarded the camp-followers.—[The + Mrs. O'Flannigan of 'Roughing It'.]—This retinue had come in the + hope of Territorial pickings and mine adventure—soldiers of fortune + they were, and a good-natured lot all together. One of them, Bob Howland, + a nephew of the governor, attracted Samuel Clemens by his clean-cut manner + and commanding eye. + </p> + <p> + “The man who has that eye doesn't need to go armed,” he wrote + later. “He can move upon an armed desperado and quell him and take + him a prisoner without saying a single word.” It was the same Bob + Howland who would be known by and by as the most fearless man in the + Territory; who, as city marshal of Aurora, kept that lawless camp in + subjection, and, when the friends of a lot of condemned outlaws were + threatening an attack with general massacre, sent the famous message to + Governor Nye: “All quiet in Aurora. Five men will be hung in an + hour.” And it was quiet, and the programme was carried out. But this + is a digression and somewhat premature. + </p> + <p> + Orion Clemens, anxious for laurels, established himself in the meager + fashion which he thought the government would approve; and his brother, + finding neither duties nor salary attached to his secondary position, + devoted himself mainly to the study of human nature as exhibited under + frontier conditions. Sometimes, when the nights were cool, he would build + a fire in the office stove, and, with Bob Howland and a few other choice + members of the “Brigade” gathered around, would tell river + yarns in that inimitable fashion which would win him devoted audiences all + his days. His river life had increased his natural languor of habit, and + his slow speech heightened the lazy impression which he was never + unwilling to convey. His hearers generally regarded him as an easygoing, + indolent good fellow with a love of humor—with talent, perhaps—but + as one not likely ever to set the world afire. They did not happen to + think that the same inclination which made them crowd about to listen and + applaud would one day win for him the attention of all mankind. + </p> + <p> + Within a brief time Sam Clemens (he was never known as otherwise than + “Sam” among those pioneers) was about the most conspicuous + figure on the Carson streets. His great bushy head of auburn hair, his + piercing, twinkling eyes, his loose, lounging walk, his careless disorder + of dress, drew the immediate attention even of strangers; made them turn + to look a second time and then inquire as to his identity. + </p> + <p> + He had quickly adapted himself to the frontier mode. Lately a river + sovereign and dandy, in fancy percales and patent leathers, he had become + the roughest of rough-clad pioneers, in rusty slouch hat, flannel shirt, + coarse trousers slopping half in and half out of the heavy cowskin boots + Always something of a barbarian in love with the loose habit of + unconvention, he went even further than others and became a sort of + paragon of disarray. The more energetic citizens of Carson did not + prophesy much for his future among them. Orion Clemens, with the stir and + bustle of the official new broom, earned their quick respect; but his + brother—well, they often saw him leaning for an hour or more at a + time against an awning support at the corner of King and Carson streets, + smoking a short clay pipe and staring drowsily at the human kaleidoscope + of the Plaza, scarcely changing his position, just watching, studying, + lost in contemplation—all of which was harmless enough, of course, + but how could any one ever get a return out of employment like that? + </p> + <p> + Samuel Clemens did not catch the mining fever immediately; there was too + much to see at first to consider any special undertaking. The mere coming + to the frontier was for the present enough; he had no plans. His chief + purpose was to see the world beyond the Rockies, to derive from it such + amusement and profit as might fall in his way. The war would end, by and + by, and he would go back to the river, no doubt. He was already not far + from homesick for the “States” and his associations there. He + closed one letter: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I heard a military band play “What Are the Wild Waves Saying” the + other night, and it brought Ella Creel and Belle (Stotts) across the + desert in an instant, for they sang the song in Orion's yard the + first time I ever heard it. It was like meeting an old friend. I + tell you I could have swallowed that whole band, trombone and all, + if such a compliment would have been any gratification to them. +</pre> + <p> + His friends contracted the mining mania; Bob Howland and Raish Phillips + went down to Aurora and acquired “feet” in mini-claims and + wrote him enthusiastic letters. With Captain Nye, the governor's brother, + he visited them and was presented with an interest which permitted him to + contribute an assessment every now and then toward the development of the + mine; but his enthusiasm still languished. + </p> + <p> + He was interested more in the native riches above ground than in those + concealed under it. He had heard that the timber around Lake Bigler + (Tahoe) promised vast wealth which could be had for the asking. The lake + itself and the adjacent mountains were said to be beautiful beyond the + dream of art. He decided to locate a timber claim on its shores. + </p> + <p> + He made the trip afoot with a young Ohio lad, John Kinney, and the account + of this trip as set down in 'Roughing It' is one of the best things in the + book. The lake proved all they had expected—more than they expected; + it was a veritable habitation of the gods, with its delicious, winy + atmosphere, its vast colonnades of pines, its measureless depths of water, + so clear that to drift on it was like floating high aloft in + mid-nothingness. They staked out a timber claim and made a semblance of + fencing it and of building a habitation, to comply with the law; but their + chief employment was a complete abandonment to the quiet luxury of that + dim solitude: wandering among the trees, lounging along the shore, or + drifting on that transparent, insubstantial sea. They did not sleep in + their house, he says: + </p> + <p> + “It never occurred to us, for one thing; and, besides, it was built + to hold the ground, and that was enough. We did not wish to strain it.” + </p> + <p> + They lived by their camp-fire on the borders of the lake, and one day—it + was just at nightfall—it got away from them, fired the forest, and + destroyed their fence and habitation. His picture in 'Roughing It' of the + superb night spectacle, the mighty mountain conflagration reflected in the + waters of the lake, is splendidly vivid. The reader may wish to compare it + with this extract from a letter written to Pamela at the time. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The level ranks of flame were relieved at intervals by the standard- + bearers, as we called the tall, dead trees, wrapped in fire, and + waving their blazing banners a hundred feet in the air. Then we + could turn from the scene to the lake, and see every branch and leaf + and cataract of flame upon its banks perfectly reflected, as in a + gleaming, fiery mirror. The mighty roaring of the conflagration, + together with our solitary and somewhat unsafe position (for there + was no one within six miles of us), rendered the scene very + impressive. Occasionally one of us would remove his pipe from his + mouth and say, “Superb, magnificent!—beautifull—but—by the Lord + God Almighty, if we attempt to sleep in this little patch to-night, + we'll never live till morning!” + </pre> + <p> + This is good writing too, but it lacks the fancy and the choice of + phrasing which would develop later. The fire ended their first excursion + to Tahoe, but they made others and located other claims—claims in + which the “folks at home,” Mr. Moffett, James Lampton, and + others, were included. It was the same James Lampton who would one day + serve as a model for Colonel Sellers. Evidently Samuel Clemens had a good + opinion of his business capacity in that earlier day, for he writes: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + This is just the country for cousin Jim to live in. I don't believe + it would take him six months to make $100,000 here if he had $3,000 + to commence with. I suppose he can't leave his family, though. +</pre> + <p> + Further along in the same letter his own overflowing Seller's optimism + develops. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Orion and I have confidence enough in this country to think that if + the war lets us alone we can make Mr. Moffett rich without its ever + costing him a cent or a particle of trouble. +</pre> + <p> + This letter bears date of October 25th, and from it we gather that a + certain interest in mining claims had by this time developed. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We have got about 1,650 feet of mining ground, and, if it proves + good, Mr. Moffett's name will go in, and if not I can get “feet” for + him in the spring. + + You see, Pamela, the trouble does not consist in getting mining + ground—for there is plenty enough—but the money to work it with + after you get it. +</pre> + <p> + He refers to Pamela's two little children, his niece Annie and Baby Sam,—[Samuel + E. Moffett, in later life a well-known journalist and editor.]—and + promises to enter claims for them—timber claims probably—for + he was by no means sanguine as yet concerning the mines. That was a long + time ago. Tahoe land is sold by the lot, now, to summer residents. Those + claims would have been riches to-day, but they were all abandoned + presently, forgotten in the delirium which goes only with the pursuit of + precious ores. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXIII. THE PROSPECTOR + </h2> + <p> + It was not until early winter that Samuel Clemens got the real mining + infection. Everybody had it by that time; the miracle is that he had not + fallen an earlier victim. The wildest stories of sudden fortune were in + the air, some of them undoubtedly true. Men had gone to bed paupers, on + the verge of starvation, and awakened to find themselves millionaires. + Others had sold for a song claims that had been suddenly found to be + fairly stuffed with precious ores. Cart-loads of bricks—silver and + gold—daily drove through the streets. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of these things reports came from the newly opened Humboldt + region—flamed up with a radiance that was fairly blinding. The + papers declared that Humboldt County “was the richest mineral region + on God's footstool.” The mountains were said to be literally + bursting with gold and silver. A correspondent of the daily Territorial + Enterprise fairly wallowed in rhetoric, yet found words inadequate to + paint the measureless wealth of the Humboldt mines. No wonder those not + already mad speedily became so. No wonder Samuel Clemens, with his natural + tendency to speculative optimism, yielded to the epidemic and became as + “frenzied as the craziest.” The air to him suddenly began to + shimmer; all his thoughts were of “leads” and “ledges” + and “veins”; all his clouds had silver linings; all his dreams + were of gold. He joined an expedition at once; he reproached himself + bitterly for not having started earlier. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Hurry was the word! We wasted no time. Our party consisted of four + persons—a blacksmith sixty years of age, two young lawyers, and + myself. We bought a wagon and two miserable old horses. We put + 1,800 pounds of provisions and mining tools in the wagon and drove + out of Carson on a chilly December afternoon. +</pre> + <p> + In a letter to his mother he states that besides provisions and mining + tools, their load consisted of certain luxuries viz., ten pounds of + killikinick, Watts's Hymns, fourteen decks of cards, Dombey and Son, a + cribbage-board, one small keg of lager-beer, and the “Carmina Sacra.” + </p> + <p> + The two young lawyers were A. W.(Gus) Oliver (Oliphant in 'Roughing It'), + and W. H. Clagget. Sam Clemens had known Billy Clagget as a law student in + Keokuk, and they were brought together now by this association. Both + Clagget and Oliver were promising young men, and would be heard from in + time. The blacksmith's name was Tillou (Ballou), a sturdy, honest soul + with a useful knowledge of mining and the repair of tools. There were also + two dogs in the party—a small curly-tailed mongrel, Curney, the + property of Mr. Tillou, and a young hound. The combination seemed a strong + one. + </p> + <p> + It proved a weak one in the matter of horses. Oliver and Clemens had + furnished the team, and their selection had not been of the best. It was + two hundred miles to Humboldt, mostly across sand. The horses could not + drag their load and the miners too, so the miners got out. Then they found + it necessary to push. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Not because we were fond of it, Ma—oh, no! but on Bunker's account. + Bunker was the “near” horse on the larboard side, named after the + attorney-general of this Territory. My horse—and I am sorry you do + not know him personally, Ma, for I feel toward him, sometimes, as if + he were a blood relation of our family—he is so lazy, you know—my + horse—I was going to say, was the “off” horse on the starboard + side. But it was on Bunker's account, principally, that we pushed + behind the wagon. In fact, Ma, that horse had something on his mind + all the way to Humboldt.—[S. L. C. to his mother. Published in + the Keokuk (Iowa) Gate city.]— +</pre> + <p> + So they had to push, and most of that two hundred miles through snow and + sand storm they continued to push and swear and groan, sustained only by + the thought that they must arrive at last, when their troubles would all + be at an end, for they would be millionaires in a brief time and never + know want or fatigue any more. + </p> + <p> + There were compensations: the camp-fire at night was cheerful, the food + satisfying. They bundled close under the blankets and, when it was too + cold to sleep, looked up at the stars, while the future entertainer of + kings would spin yarn after yarn that made his hearers forget their + discomforts. Judge Oliver, the last one of the party alive, in a recent + letter to the writer of this history, says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He was the life of the camp; but sometimes there would come a + reaction and he could hardly speak for a day or two. One day a pack + of wolves chased us, and the hound Sam speaks of never stopped to + look back till he reached the next station, many miles ahead. +</pre> + <p> + Judge Oliver adds that an Indian war had just ended, and that they + occasionally passed the charred ruin of a shack, and new graves: This was + disturbing enough. Then they came to that desolation of desolations, the + Alkali Desert, where the sand is of unknown depth, where the road is + strewn thickly with the carcasses of dead beasts of burden, the charred + remains of wagons, chains, bolts, and screws, which thirsty emigrants, + grown desperate, have thrown away in the grand hope of being able, when + less encumbered, to reach water. + </p> + <p> + They traveled all day and night, pushing through that fierce, waterless + waste to reach camp on the other side. It was three o'clock in the morning + when they got across and dropped down utterly exhausted. Judge Oliver in + his letter tells what happened then: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The sun was high in the heavens when we were aroused from our sleep + by a yelling band of Piute warriors. We were upon our feet in an + instant. The pictures of burning cabins and the lonely graves we + had passed were in our minds. Our scalps were still our own, and + not dangling from the belts of our visitors. Sam pulled himself + together, put his hand on his head as if to make sure he had not + been scalped, and then with his inimitable drawl said: “Boys, they + have left us our scalps. Let's give them all the flour and sugar + they ask for.” And we did give them a good supply, for we were + grateful. +</pre> + <p> + They were eleven weary days pushing their wagon and team the two hundred + miles to Unionville, Humboldt County, arriving at last in a driving + snow-storm. Unionville consisted of eleven poor cabins built in the bottom + of a canon, five on one side and six facing them on the other. They were + poor, three-sided, one-room huts, the fourth side formed by the hill; the + roof, a spread of white cotton. Stones used to roll down on them + sometimes, and Mark Twain tells of live stock—specifically of a mule + and cow—that interrupted the patient, long-suffering Oliver, who was + trying to write poetry, and only complained when at last “an entire + cow came rolling down the hill, crashed through on the table, and made a + shapeless wreck of everything.”—['The Innocents Abroad.'] + </p> + <p> + Judge Oliver still does not complain; but he denies the cow. He says there + were no cows in Humboldt in those days, so perhaps it was only a literary + cow, though in any case it will long survive. Judge Oliver's name will go + down with it to posterity. + </p> + <p> + In the letter which Samuel Clemens wrote home he tells of what they found + in Unionville. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “National” there was selling at $50 per foot and assayed $2,496 per + ton at the mint in San Francisco. And the “Alda Nueva,” “Peru,” + “Delirio,” “Congress,” “Independent,” and others were immensely rich + leads. And moreover, having winning ways with us, we could get + “feet” enough to make us all rich one of these days. +</pre> + <p> + “I confess with shame,” says the author of 'Roughing It', + “that I expected to find masses of silver lying all about the + ground.” And he adds that he slipped away from the cabin to find a + claim on his own account, and tells how he came staggering back under a + load of golden specimens; also how his specimens proved to be only + worthless mica; and how he learned that in mining nothing that glitters is + gold. His account in 'Roughing It' of the Humboldt mining experience is + sufficiently good history to make detail here unnecessary. Tillou + instructed them in prospecting, and in time they located a fairly + promising claim. They went to work on it with pick and shovel, then with + drill and blasting-powder. Then they gave it up. + </p> + <p> + “One week of this satisfied me. I resigned.” + </p> + <p> + They tried to tunnel, but soon resigned again. It was pleasanter to + prospect and locate and trade claims and acquire feet in every new ledge + than it was to dig-and about as profitable. The golden reports of Humboldt + had been based on assays of selected rich specimens, and were mainly + delirium and insanity. The Clemens-Clagget-Oliver-Tillou combination never + touched their claims again with pick and shovel, though their faith, or at + least their hope, in them did not immediately die. Billy Clagget put out + his shingle as notary public, and Gus Oliver put out his as probate judge. + Sam Clemens and Tillou, with a fat-witted, arrogant Prussian named + Pfersdoff (Ollendorf) set out for Carson City. It is not certain what + became of the wagon and team, or of the two dogs. + </p> + <p> + The Carson travelers were water-bound at a tavern on the Carson River (the + scene of the “Arkansas” sketch), with a fighting, drinking + lot. Pfersdoff got them nearly drowned getting away, and finally succeeded + in getting them absolutely lost in the snow. The author of 'Roughing It' + tells us how they gave themselves up to die, and how each swore off + whatever he had in the way of an evil habit, how they cast their + tempters-tobacco, cards, and whisky-into the snow. He further tells us how + next morning, when they woke to find themselves alive, within a few rods + of a hostelry, they surreptitiously dug up those things again and, deep in + shame and luxury, resumed their fallen ways: It was the 29th of January + when they reached Carson City. They had been gone not quite two months, + one of which had been spent in travel. It was a brief period, but it + contained an episode, and it seemed like years. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0038" id="link2H_4_0038"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXIV. TERRITORIAL CHARACTERISTICS + </h2> + <p> + Meantime, the Territorial secretary had found difficulties in launching + the ship of state. There was no legislative hall in Carson City; and if + Abram Curry, one of the original owners of the celebrated Gould and Curry + mine—“Curry—old Curry—old Abe Curry,” as he + called himself—had not tendered the use of a hall rent free, the + first legislature would have been obliged to “sit in the desert.” + Furthermore, Orion had met with certain acute troubles of his own. The + government at Washington had not appreciated his economies in the matter + of cheap office rental, and it had stipulated the price which he was to + pay for public printing and various other services-prices fixed according + to Eastern standards. These prices did not obtain in Nevada, and when + Orion, confident that because of his other economies the comptroller would + stretch a point and allow the increased frontier tariff, he was met with + the usual thick-headed official lack of imagination, with the result that + the excess paid was deducted from his slender salary. With a man of less + conscience this condition would easily have been offset by another wherein + other rates, less arbitrary, would have been adjusted to negotiate the + official deficit. With Orion Clemens such a remedy was not even + considered; yielding, unstable, blown by every wind of influence though he + was, Orion's integrity was a rock. + </p> + <p> + Governor Nye was among those who presently made this discovery. Old + politician that he was—former police commissioner of New York City—Nye + took care of his own problems in the customary manner. To him, politics + was simply a game—to be played to win. He was a popular, jovial man, + well liked and thought of, but he did not lie awake, as Orion did, + planning economies for the government, or how to make up excess charges + out of his salary. To him Nevada was simply a doorway to the United States + Senate, and in the mean time his brigade required official recognition and + perquisites. The governor found Orion Clemens an impediment to this + policy. Orion could not be brought to a proper political understanding of + “special bills and accounts,” and relations between the + secretary of state and the governor were becoming strained. + </p> + <p> + It was about this time that the man who had been potentate of the + pilot-house of a Mississippi River steamer returned from Humboldt. He was + fond of the governor, but he had still higher regard for the family + integrity. When he had heard Orion's troubled story, he called on Governor + Nye and delivered himself in his own fashion. In his former employments he + had acquired a vocabulary and moral backbone sufficient to his needs. We + may regret that no stenographic report was made of the interview. It would + be priceless now. But it is lost; we only know that Orion's rectitude was + not again assailed, and that curiously enough Governor Nye apparently + conceived a strong admiration and respect for his brother. + </p> + <p> + Samuel Clemens, miner, remained but a brief time in Carson City—only + long enough to arrange for a new and more persistent venture. He did not + confess his Humboldt failure to his people; in fact, he had not as yet + confessed it to himself; his avowed purpose was to return to Humboldt + after a brief investigation of the Esmeralda mines. He had been paying + heavy assessments on his holdings there; and, with a knowledge of mining + gained at Unionville, he felt that his personal attention at Aurora might + be important. As a matter of fact, he was by this time fairly daft on the + subject of mines and mining, with the rest of the community for company. + </p> + <p> + His earlier praises of the wonders and climate of Tahoe had inspired his + sister Pamela, always frail, with a desire to visit that health-giving + land. Perhaps he felt that he recommended the country somewhat too highly. + </p> + <p> + “By George, Pamela,” he said, “I begin to fear that I + have invoked a spirit of some kind or other, which I will find more than + difficult to allay.” He proceeds to recommend California as a + residence for any or all of them, but he is clearly doubtful concerning + Nevada. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Some people are malicious enough to think that if the devil were set + at liberty and told to confine himself to Nevada Territory, he would + come here and look sadly around awhile, and then get homesick and go + back to hell again.... Why, I have had my whiskers and mustaches + so full of alkali dust that you'd have thought I worked in a starch + factory and boarded in a flour barrel. +</pre> + <p> + But then he can no longer restrain his youth and optimism. How could he, + with a fortune so plainly in view? It was already in his grasp in + imagination; he was on the way home with it. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I expect to return to St. Louis in July—per steamer. I don't say + that I will return then, or that I shall be able to do it—but I + expect to—you bet. I came down here from Humboldt, in order to + look after our Esmeralda interests. Yesterday, Bob Howland arrived + here, and I have had a talk with him. He owns with me in the + “Horatio and Derby” ledge. He says our tunnel is in 52 feet, and a + small stream of water has been struck, which bids fair to become a + “big thing” by the time the ledge is reached—sufficient to supply a + mill. Now, if you knew anything of the value of water here, you + would perceive at a glance that if the water should amount to 50 or + 100 inches, we wouldn't care whether school kept or not. If the + ledge should prove to be worthless, we'd sell the water for money + enough to give us quite a lift. But, you see, the ledge will not + prove to be worthless. We have located, near by, a fine site for a + mill, and when we strike the ledge, you know, we'll have a mill- + site, water-power, and payrock, all handy. Then we sha'n't care + whether we have capital or not. Mill folks will build us a mill, + and wait for their pay. If nothing goes wrong, we'll strike the + ledge in June—and if we do, I'll be home in July, you know. +</pre> + <p> + He pauses at this point for a paragraph of self-analysis—characteristic + and crystal-clear. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + So, just keep your clothes on, Pamela, until I come. Don't you know + that undemonstrated human calculations won't do to bet on? Don't + you know that I have only talked, as yet, but proved nothing? Don't + you know that I have expended money in this country but have made + none myself? Don't you know that I have never held in my hands a + gold or silver bar that belonged to me? Don't you know that it's + all talk and no cider so far? Don't you know that people who always + feel jolly, no matter where they are or what happens to them—who + have the organ of Hope preposterously developed—who are endowed + with an unconcealable sanguine temperament—who never feel concerned + about the price of corn—and who cannot, by any possibility, + discover any but the bright side of a picture—are very apt to go to + extremes and exaggerate with 40-horse microscopic power? + + But-but + In the bright lexicon of youth, + There is no such word as Fail— + and I'll prove it! +</pre> + <p> + Whereupon, he lets himself go again, full-tilt: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + By George, if I just had a thousand dollars I'd be all right! Now + there's the “Horatio,” for instance. There are five or six + shareholders in it, and I know I could buy half of their interests + at, say $20 per foot, now that flour is worth $50 per barrel and + they are pressed for money, but I am hard up myself, and can't buy + —and in June they'll strike the ledge, and then “good-by canary.” + I can't get it for love or money. Twenty dollars a foot! Think of + it! For ground that is proven to be rich. Twenty dollars, Madam- + and we wouldn't part with a foot of our 75 for five times the sum. + So it will be in Humboldt next summer. The boys will get pushed and + sell ground for a song that is worth a fortune. But I am at the + helm now. I have convinced Orion that he hasn't business talent + enough to carry on a peanut-stand, and he has solemnly promised me + that he will meddle no more with mining or other matters not + connected with the secretary's office. So, you see, if mines are to + be bought or sold, or tunnels run or shafts sunk, parties have to + come to me—and me only. I'm the “firm,” you know. +</pre> + <p> + There are pages of this, all glowing with golden expectations and plans. + Ah, well! we have all written such letters home at one time and another-of + gold-mines of one form or another. + </p> + <p> + He closes at last with a bit of pleasantry for his mother. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ma says: “It looks like a man can't hold public office and be + honest.” Why, certainly not, Madam. A man can't hold public office + and be honest. Lord bless you, it is a common practice with Orion + to go about town stealing little things that happen to be lying + around loose. And I don't remember having heard him speak the truth + since we have been in Nevada. He even tries to prevail upon me to + do these things, Ma, but I wasn't brought up in that way, you know. + You showed the public what you could do in that line when you raised + me, Madam. But then you ought to have raised me first, so that + Orion could have had the benefit of my example. Do you know that he + stole all the stamps out of an 8-stamp quartz-mill one night, and + brought them home under his overcoat and hid them in the back room? +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0039" id="link2H_4_0039"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXV. THE MINER + </h2> + <p> + He had about exhausted his own funds by this time, and it was necessary + that Orion should become the financier. The brothers owned their Esmeralda + claims in partnership, and it was agreed that Orion, out of his modest + depleted pay, should furnish the means, while the other would go actively + into the field and develop their riches. Neither had the slightest doubt + but that they would be millionaires presently, and both were willing to + struggle and starve for the few intervening weeks. + </p> + <p> + It was February when the printer-pilot-miner arrived in Aurora, that + rough, turbulent camp of the Esmeralda district lying about one hundred + miles south of Carson City, on the edge of California, in the Sierra + slopes. Everything was frozen and covered with snow; but there was no lack + of excitement and prospecting and grabbing for “feet” in this + ledge and that, buried deep under the ice and drift. The new arrival + camped with Horatio Phillips (Raish), in a tiny cabin with a domestic roof + (the ruin of it still stands), and they cooked and bunked together and + combined their resources in a common fund. Bob Howland joined them + presently, and later an experienced miner, Calvin H. Higbie (Cal), one day + to be immortalized in the story of 'Roughing It' and in the dedication of + that book. Around the cabin stove they would gather, and paw over their + specimens, or test them with blow-pipe and “horn” spoon, after + which they would plan tunnels and figure estimates of prospective wealth. + Never mind if the food was poor and scanty, and the chill wind came in + everywhere, and the roof leaked like a filter; they were living in a land + where all the mountains were banked with nuggets, where all the rivers ran + gold. Bob Howland declared later that they used to go out at night and + gather up empty champagne-bottles and fruit-tins and pile them in the rear + of their cabin to convey to others the appearance of affluence and high + living. When they lacked for other employment and were likely to be + discouraged, the ex-pilot would “ride the bunk” and smoke and, + without money and without price, distribute riches more valuable than any + they would ever dig out of those Esmeralda Hills. At other times he talked + little or not at all, but sat in one corner and wrote, wholly oblivious of + his surroundings. They thought he was writing letters, though letters were + not many and only to Orion during this period. It was the old literary + impulse stirring again, the desire to set things down for their own sake, + the natural hunger for print. One or two of his earlier letters home had + found their way into a Keokuk paper—the 'Gate City'. Copies + containing them had gone back to Orion, who had shown them to a + representative of the Territorial Enterprise, a young man named Barstow, + who thought them amusing. The Enterprise reprinted at least one of these + letters, or portions of it, and with this encouragement the author of it + sent an occasional contribution direct to that paper over the pen-name + “Josh.” He did not care to sign his own name. He was a miner + who was soon to be a magnate; he had no desire to be known as a camp + scribbler. + </p> + <p> + He received no pay for these offerings, and expected none. They were + sketches of a broadly burlesque sort, the robust horse-play kind of humor + that belongs to the frontier. They were not especially promising efforts. + One of them was about an old rackabones of a horse, a sort of preliminary + study for “Oahu,” of the Sandwich Islands, or “Baalbec” + and “Jericho,” of Syria. If any one had told him, or had told + any reader of this sketch, that the author of it was knocking at the door + of the house of fame such a person's judgment or sincerity would have been + open to doubt. Nevertheless, it was true, though the knock was timid and + halting and the summons to cross the threshold long delayed. + </p> + <p> + A winter mining-camp is the most bleak and comfortless of places. The + saloon and gambling-house furnished the only real warmth and cheer. Our + Aurora miners would have been less than human, or more, if they had not + found diversion now and then in the happy harbors of sin. Once there was a + great ball given at a newly opened pavilion, and Sam Clemens is said to + have distinguished himself by his unrestrained and spontaneous enjoyment + of the tripping harmony. Cal Higbie, who was present, writes: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In changing partners, whenever he saw a hand raised he would grasp + it with great pleasure and sail off into another set, oblivious to + his surroundings. Sometimes he would act as though there was no use + in trying to go right or to dance like other people, and with his + eyes closed he would do a hoe-down or a double-shuffle all alone, + talking to himself and saying that he never dreamed there was so + much pleasure to be obtained at a ball. It was all as natural as a + child's play. By the second set, all the ladies were falling over + themselves to get him for a partner, and most of the crowd, too full + of mirth to dance, were standing or sitting around, dying with + laughter. +</pre> + <p> + What a child he always was—always, to the very end? With the first + break of winter the excitement that had been fermenting and stewing around + camp stoves overflowed into the streets, washed up the gullies, and + assailed the hills. There came then a period of madness, beside which the + Humboldt excitement had been mere intoxication. Higbie says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It was amazing how wild the people became all over the Pacific + coast. In San Francisco and other large cities barbers, hack- + drivers, servant-girls, merchants, and nearly every class of people + would club together and send agents representing all the way from + $5,000 to $500,000 or more to buy mines. They would buy anything. + in the shape of quartz, whether it contained any mineral value or + not. +</pre> + <p> + The letters which went from the Aurora miner to Orion are humanly + documentary. They are likely to be staccato in their movement; they show + nervous haste in their composition, eagerness, and suppressed excitement; + they are not always coherent; they are seldom humorous, except in a savage + way; they are often profane; they are likely to be violent. Even the + handwriting has a terse look; the flourish of youth has gone out of it. + Altogether they reveal the tense anxiety of the gambling mania of which + mining is the ultimate form. An extract from a letter of April is a fair + exhibit: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Work not yet begun on the “Horatio and Derby”—haven't seen it yet. + It is still in the snow. Shall begin on it within 3 or 4 weeks + —strike the ledge in July: Guess it is good—worth from $30 to $50 + a foot in California.... + + Man named Gebhart shot here yesterday while trying to defend a claim + on Last Chance Hill. Expect he will die. + + These mills here are not worth a d—n—except Clayton's—and it is + not in full working trim yet. + + Send me $40 or $50—by mail-immediately. I go to work to-morrow + with pick and shovel. Something's got to come, by G—, before I let + go here. +</pre> + <p> + By the end of April work had become active in the mines, though the snow + in places was still deep and the ground stony with frost. On the 28th he + writes: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have been at work all day blasting and digging, and d—ning one of + our new claims—“Dashaway”—which I don't think a great deal of, but + which I am willing to try. We are down, now, 10 or 12 a feet. We + are following down under the ledge, but not taking it out. If we + get up a windlass to-morrow we shall take out the ledge, and see + whether it is worth anything or not. +</pre> + <p> + It must have been hard work picking away at the flinty ledges in the cold; + and the “Dashaway” would seem to have proven a disappointment, + for there is no promising mention of it again. Instead, we hear of the + “Flyaway;” and “Annipolitan” and the “Live + Yankee” and of a dozen others, each of which holds out the beacon of + hope for a little while and then passes from notice forever. In May it is + the “Monitor” that is sure to bring affluence, though + realization is no longer regarded as immediate. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + To use a French expression, I have “got my d—-d satisfy” at last. + Two years' time will make us capitalists, in spite of anything. + + Therefore we need fret and fume and worry and doubt no more, but + just lie still and put up with privation for six months. Perhaps 3 + months will “let us out.” Then, if government refuses to pay the + rent on your new office we can do it ourselves. We have got to wait + six weeks, anyhow, for a dividend—maybe longer—but that it will + come there is no shadow of a doubt. I have got the thing sifted + down to a dead moral certainty. I own one-eighth of the new + “Monitor Ledge, Clemens Company,” and money can't buy a foot of it; + because I know it to contain our fortune. The ledge is six feet + wide, and one needs no glass to see gold and silver in it.... + + When you and I came out here we did not expect '63 or '64 to find us + rich men—and if that proposition had been made we would have + accepted it gladly. Now, it is made. I am willing, now, that + “Neary's tunnel” or anybody else's tunnel shall succeed. Some of + them may beat us a few months, but we shall be on hand in the + fullness of time, as sure as fate. I would hate to swap chances + with any member of the tribe.... +</pre> + <p> + It is the same man who twenty-five years later would fasten his faith and + capital to a type-setting machine and refuse to exchange stock in it, + share for share, with the Mergenthaler linotype. He adds: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + But I have struck my tent in Esmeralda, and I care for no mines but + those which I can superintend myself. I am a citizen here now, and + I am satisfied, although Ratio and I are “strapped” and we haven't + three days' rations in the house.... I shall work the “Monitor” and + the other claims with my own hands. I prospected 3/4 of a pound of + “Monitor” yesterday, and Raish reduced it with the blow-pipe, and + got about 10 or 12 cents in gold and silver, besides the other half + of it which we spilt on the floor and didn't get.... + + I tried to break a handsome chunk from a huge piece of my darling + “Monitor” which we brought from the croppings yesterday, but it all + splintered up, and I send you the scraps. I call that “choice”—any + d—-d fool would. + + Don't ask if it has been assayed, for it hasn't. It don't need it. + It is simply able to speak for itself. It is six feet wide on top, + and traversed through with veins whose color proclaims their worth. + + What the devil does a man want with any more feet when he owns in + the invincible bomb-proof “Monitor”? +</pre> + <p> + There is much more of this, and other such letters, most of them ending + with demands for money. The living, the tools, the blasting-powder, and + the help eat it up faster than Orion's salary can grow. + </p> + <p> + “Send me $50 or $100, all you can spare; put away $150 subject to my + call—we shall need it soon for the tunnel.” The letters are + full of such admonition, and Orion, more insane, if anything, than his + brother, is scraping his dollars and pennies together to keep the mines + going. He is constantly warned to buy no claims on his own account and + promises faithfully, but cannot resist now and then when luring baits are + laid before him, though such ventures invariably result in violent and + profane protests from Aurora. + </p> + <p> + “The pick and shovel are the only claims I have any confidence in + now,” the miner concludes, after one fierce outburst. “My back + is sore, and my hands are blistered with handling them to-day.” + </p> + <p> + But even the pick and shovel did not inspire confidence a little later. He + writes that the work goes slowly, very slowly, but that they still hope to + strike it some day. “But—if we strike it rich—I've lost + my guess, that's all.” Then he adds: “Couldn't go on the hill + to-day. It snowed. It always snows here, I expect”; and the final + heart-sick line, “Don't you suppose they have pretty much quit + writing at home?” + </p> + <p> + This is midsummer, and snow still interferes with the work. One feels the + dreary uselessness of the quest. + </p> + <p> + Yet resolution did not wholly die, or even enthusiasm. These things were + as recurrent as new prospects, which were plentiful enough. In a still + subsequent letter he declares that he will never look upon his mother's + face again, or his sister's, or get married, or revisit the “Banner + State,” until he is a rich man, though there is less assurance than + desperation in the words. + </p> + <p> + In 'Roughing It' the author tells us that, when flour had reached one + dollar a pound and he could no longer get the dollar, he abandoned mining + and went to milling “as a common laborer in a quartz-mill at ten + dollars a week.” This statement requires modification. It was not + entirely for the money that he undertook the laborious task of washing + “riffles” and “screening tailings.” The money was + welcome enough, no doubt, but the greater purpose was to learn refining, + so that when his mines developed he could establish his own mill and + personally superintend the work. It is like him to wish us to believe that + he was obliged to give up being a mining magnate to become a laborer in a + quartz-mill, for there is a grim humor in the confession. That he + abandoned the milling experiment at the end of a week is a true statement. + He got a violent cold in the damp place, and came near getting salivated, + he says in a letter, “working in the quicksilver and chemicals. I + hardly think I shall try the experiment again. It is a confining business, + and I will not be confined for love or money.” + </p> + <p> + As recreation after this trying experience, Higbie took him on a tour, + prospecting for the traditional “Cement Mine,” a lost claim + where, in a deposit of cement rock, gold nuggets were said to be as thick + as raisins in a fruitcake. They did not find the mine, but they visited + Mono Lake—that ghastly, lifeless alkali sea among the hills, which + in 'Roughing It' he has so vividly pictured. It was good to get away from + the stress of things; and they repeated the experiment. They made a + walking trip to Yosemite, carrying their packs, camping and fishing in + that far, tremendous isolation, which in those days few human beings had + ever visited at all. Such trips furnished a delicious respite from the + fevered struggle around tunnel and shaft. Amid mountain-peaks and giant + forests and by tumbling falls the quest for gold hardly seemed worth + while. More than once that summer he went alone into the wilderness to + find his balance and to get away entirely from humankind. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0040" id="link2H_4_0040"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXVI. LAST MINING DAYS + </h2> + <h3> + It was late in July when he wrote: + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + If I do not forget it, I will send you, per next mail, a pinch of + decom. (decomposed rock) which I pinched with thumb and finger from + Wide West ledge a while ago. Raish and I have secured 200 out of a + company with 400 ft. in it, which perhaps (the ledge, I mean) is a + spur from the W. W.—our shaft is about 100 ft. from the W. W. + shaft. In order to get in, we agreed to sink 30 ft. We have sublet + to another man for 50 ft., and we pay for powder and sharpening + tools. +</pre> + <p> + This was the “Blind Lead” claim of Roughing It, but the + episode as set down in that book is somewhat dramatized. It is quite true + that he visited and nursed Captain Nye while Higbie was off following the + “Cement” 'ignus fatuus' and that the “Wide West” + holdings were forfeited through neglect. But if the loss was regarded as a + heavy one, the letters fail to show it. It is a matter of dispute to-day + whether or not the claim was ever of any value. A well-known California + author—[Ella Sterling Cummins, author of The Story of the Files, etc]—declares: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + No one need to fear that he ran any chance of being a millionaire + through the “Wide West” mine, for the writer, as a child, played + over that historic spot and saw only a shut-down mill and desolate + hole in the ground to mark the spot where over-hopeful men had sunk + thousands and thousands, that they never recovered. +</pre> + <p> + The “Blind Lead” episode, as related, is presumably a tale of + what might have happened—a possibility rather than an actuality. It + is vividly true in atmosphere, however, and forms a strong and natural + climax for closing the mining episode, while the literary privilege + warrants any liberties he may have taken for art's sake. + </p> + <p> + In reality the close of his mining career was not sudden and spectacular; + it was a lingering close, a reluctant and gradual surrender. The “Josh” + letters to the Enterprise had awakened at least a measure of interest, and + Orion had not failed to identify their author when any promising occasion + offered; as a result certain tentative overtures had been made for similar + material. Orion eagerly communicated such chances, for the money situation + was becoming a desperate one. A letter from the Aurora miner written near + the end of July presents the situation very fully. An extract or two will + be sufficient: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + My debts are greater than I thought for—I bought $25 worth of + clothing and sent $25 to Higbie, in the cement diggings. I owe + about $45 or $50, and have got about $45 in my pocket. But how in + the h—l I am going to live on something over $100 until October or + November is singular. The fact is, I must have something to do, and + that shortly, too.... Now write to the Sacramento Union folks, or + to Marsh, and tell them I'll write as many letters a week as they + want for $10 a week. My board must be paid. Tell them I have + corresponded with the N. Orleans Crescent and other papers—and the + Enterprise. + + If they want letters from here—who'll run from morning till night + collecting material cheaper? I'll write a short letter twice a + week, for the present for the 'Age', for $5 per week. Now it has + been a long time since I couldn't make my own living, and it shall + be a long time before I loaf another year. +</pre> + <p> + Nothing came of these possibilities, but about this time Barstow, of the + Enterprise, conferred with Joseph T. Goodman, editor and owner of the + paper, as to the advisability of adding the author of the “Josh” + letters to their local staff. Joe Goodman, who had as keen a literary + perception as any man that ever pitched a journalistic tent on the Pacific + coast (and there could be no higher praise than that), looked over the + letters and agreed with Barstow that the man who wrote them had “something + in him.” Two of the sketches in particular he thought promising. One + of them was a burlesque report of an egotistical lecturer who was referred + to as “Professor Personal Pronoun.” It closed by stating that + it was “impossible to print his lecture in full, as the type-cases + had run out of capital I's.” But it was the other sketch which + settled Goodman's decision. It was also a burlesque report, this time of a + Fourth-of-July oration. It opened, “I was sired by the Great + American Eagle and foaled by a continental dam.” This was followed + by a string of stock patriotic phrases absurdly arranged. But it was the + opening itself that won Goodman's heart. + </p> + <p> + “That is the sort of thing we want,” he said. “Write to + him, Barstow, and ask him if he wants to come up here.” + </p> + <p> + Barstow wrote, offering twenty-five dollars a week, a tempting sum. This + was at the end of July, 1862. + </p> + <p> + In 'Roughing It' we are led to believe that the author regarded this as a + gift from heaven and accepted it straightaway. As a matter of fact, he + fasted and prayed a good while over the “call.” To Orion he + wrote Barstow has offered me the post as local reporter for the Enterprise + at $25 a week, and I have written him that I will let him know next mail, + if possible. + </p> + <p> + There was no desperate eagerness, you see, to break into literature, even + under those urgent conditions. It meant the surrender of all hope in the + mines, the confession of another failure. On August 7th he wrote again to + Orion. He had written to Barstow, he said, asking when they thought he + might be needed. He was playing for time to consider. + </p> + <p> + Now, I shall leave at midnight to-night, alone and on foot, for a walk of + 60 or 70 miles through a totally uninhabited country, and it is barely + possible that mail facilities may prove infernally “slow.” But + do you write Barstow that I have left here for a week or so, and in case + he should want me, he must write me here, or let me know through you. + </p> + <p> + So he had gone into the wilderness to fight out his battle alone. But + eight days later, when he had returned, there was still no decision. In a + letter to Pamela of this date he refers playfully to the discomforts of + his cabin and mentions a hope that he will spend the winter in San + Francisco; but there is no reference in it to any newspaper prospects—nor + to the mines, for that matter. Phillips, Howland, and Higbie would seem to + have given up by this time, and he was camping with Dan Twing and a dog, a + combination amusingly described. It is a pleasant enough letter, but the + note of discouragement creeps in: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I did think for a while of going home this fall—but when I found + that that was, and had been, the cherished intention and the darling + aspiration every year of these old care-worn Californians for twelve + weary years, I felt a little uncomfortable, so I stole a march on + Disappointment and said I would not go home this fall. This country + suits me, and it shall suit me whether or no. +</pre> + <p> + He was dying hard, desperately hard; how could he know, to paraphrase the + old form of Christian comfort, that his end as a miner would mean, in + another sphere, “a brighter resurrection” than even his + rainbow imagination could paint? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0041" id="link2H_4_0041"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXVII. THE NEW ESTATE + </h2> + <p> + It was the afternoon of a hot, dusty August day when a worn, + travel-stained pilgrim drifted laggingly into the office of the Virginia + City Enterprise, then in its new building on C Street, and, loosening a + heavy roll of blankets from his shoulders, dropped wearily into a chair. + He wore a rusty slouch hat, no coat, a faded blue flannel shirt, a Navy + revolver; his trousers were hanging on his boot tops. A tangle of + reddish-brown hair fell on his shoulders, and a mass of tawny beard, dingy + with alkali dust, dropped half-way to his waist. + </p> + <p> + Aurora lay one hundred and thirty miles from Virginia. He had walked that + distance, carrying his heavy load. Editor Goodman was absent at the + moment, but the other proprietor, Denis E. McCarthy, signified that the + caller might state his errand. The wanderer regarded him with a far-away + look and said, absently and with deliberation: + </p> + <p> + “My starboard leg seems to be unshipped. I'd like about one hundred + yards of line; I think I am falling to pieces.” Then he added: + “I want to see Mr. Barstow, or Mr. Goodman. My name is Clemens, and + I've come to write for the paper.” + </p> + <p> + It was the master of the world's widest estate come to claim his kingdom: + </p> + <p> + William Wright, who had won a wide celebrity on the Coast as Dan de + Quille, was in the editorial chair and took charge of the new arrival. He + was going on a trip to the States soon; it was mainly on this account that + the new man had been engaged. The “Josh” letters were very + good, in Dan's opinion; he gave their author a cordial welcome, and took + him around to his boarding-place. It was the beginning of an association + that continued during Samuel Clemens's stay in Virginia City and of a + friendship that lasted many years. + </p> + <p> + The Territorial Enterprise was one of the most remarkable frontier papers + ever published. Its editor-in-chief, Joseph Goodman, was a man with rare + appreciation, wide human understanding, and a comprehensive newspaper + policy. Being a young man, he had no policy, in fact, beyond the general + purpose that his paper should be a forum for absolutely free speech, + provided any serious statement it contained was based upon knowledge. His + instructions to the new reporter were about as follows: + </p> + <p> + “Never say we learn so and so, or it is rumored, or we understand so + and so; but go to headquarters and get the absolute facts; then speak out + and say it is so and so. In the one case you are likely to be shot, and in + the other you are pretty certain to be; but you will preserve the public + confidence.” + </p> + <p> + Goodman was not new to the West. He had come to California as a boy and + had been a miner, explorer, printer, and contributor by turns. Early in + '61, when the Comstock Lode—[Named for its discoverer, Henry T. P. + Comstock, a half-crazy miner, who realized very little from his stupendous + find.]—was new and Virginia in the first flush of its monster boom, + he and Denis McCarthy had scraped together a few dollars and bought the + paper. It had been a hand-to-hand struggle for a while, but in a brief two + years, from a starving sheet in a shanty the Enterprise, with new + building, new presses, and a corps of swift compositors brought up from + San Francisco, had become altogether metropolitan, as well as the most + widely considered paper on the Coast. It had been borne upward by the + Comstock tide, though its fearless, picturesque utterance would have given + it distinction anywhere. Goodman himself was a fine, forceful writer, and + Dan de Quille and R. M. Daggett (afterward United States minister to + Hawaii) were representative of Enterprise men.—[The Comstock of that + day became famous for its journalism. Associated with the Virginia papers + then or soon afterward were such men as Tom Fitch (the silver-tongued + orator), Alf Doten, W. J. Forbes, C. C. Goodwin, H. R. Mighels, Clement T. + Rice, Arthur McEwen, and Sam Davis—a great array indeed for a new + Territory.]—Samuel Clemens fitted precisely into this group. He + added the fresh, rugged vigor of thought and expression that was the very + essence of the Comstock, which was like every other frontier mining-camp, + only on a more lavish, more overwhelming scale. + </p> + <p> + There was no uncertainty about the Comstock; the silver and gold were + there. Flanking the foot of Mount Davidson, the towns of Gold Hill and + Virginia and the long street between were fairly underburrowed and + underpinned by the gigantic mining construction of that opulent lode whose + treasures were actually glutting the mineral markets of the world. The + streets overhead seethed and swarmed with miners, mine owners, and + adventurers—riotous, rollicking children of fortune, always ready to + drink and make merry, as eager in their pursuit of pleasure as of gold. + Comstockers would always laugh at a joke; the rougher the better. The town + of Virginia itself was just a huge joke to most of them. Everybody had, + money; everybody wanted to laugh and have a good time. The Enterprise, + “Comstock to the backbone,” did what it could to help things + along. + </p> + <p> + It was a sort of free ring, with every one for himself. Goodman let the + boys write and print in accordance with their own ideas and upon any + subject. Often they wrote of each other—squibs and burlesques, which + gratified the Comstock far more than mere news.—[The indifference to + 'news' was noble—none the less so because it was so blissfully + unconscious. Editors Mark or Dan would dismiss a murder with a couple of + inches and sit down and fill up a column with a fancy sketch: “Arthur + McEwen”]—It was the proper class-room for Mark Twain, an + encouraging audience and free utterance: fortune could have devised + nothing better for him than that. + </p> + <p> + He was peculiarly fitted for the position. Unspoiled humanity appealed to + him, and the Comstock presented human nature in its earliest landscape + forms. Furthermore, the Comstock was essentially optimistic—so was + he; any hole in the ground to him held a possible, even a probable, + fortune. + </p> + <p> + His pilot memory became a valuable asset in news-gathering. Remembering + marks, banks, sounding, and other river detail belonged apparently in the + same category of attainments as remembering items and localities of news. + He could travel all day without a note-book and at night reproduce the + day's budget or at least the picturesqueness of it, without error. He was + presently accounted a good reporter, except where statistics—measurements + and figures—were concerned. These he gave “a lick and a + promise,” according to De Quille, who wrote afterward of their + associations. De Quille says further: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mark and I agreed well in our work, which we divided when there was + a rush of events; but we often cruised in company, he taking the + items of news he could handle best, and I such as I felt competent + to work up. However, we wrote at the same table and frequently + helped each other with such suggestions as occurred to us during the + brief consultations we held in regard to the handling of any matters + of importance. Never was there an angry word between us in all the + time we worked together. +</pre> + <p> + De Quille tells how Clemens clipped items with a knife when there were no + scissors handy, and slashed through on the top of his desk, which in time + took on the semblance “of a huge polar star, spiritedly dashing + forth a thousand rays.” + </p> + <p> + The author of 'Roughing It' has given us a better picture of the Virginia + City of those days and his work there than any one else will ever write. + He has made us feel the general spirit of affluence that prevailed; how + the problem was not to get money, but to spend it; how “feet” + in any one of a hundred mines could be had for the asking; how such shares + were offered like apples or cigars or bonbons, as a natural matter of + courtesy when one happened to have his supply in view; how any one + connected with a newspaper would have stocks thrust upon him, and how in a + brief time he had acquired a trunk ful of such riches and usually had + something to sell when any of the claims made a stir on the market. He has + told us of the desperadoes and their trifling regard for human life, and + preserved other elemental characters of these prodigal days. The funeral + of Buck Fanshaw that amazing masterpiece—is a complete epitome of + the social frontier. + </p> + <p> + It would not be the part of wisdom to attempt another inclusive + presentation of Comstock conditions. We may only hope to add a few details + of history, justified now by time and circumstances, to supplement the + picture with certain data of personality preserved from the drift of + years. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0042" id="link2H_4_0042"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXVIII. ONE OF THE “STAFF” + </h2> + <p> + The new reporter found acquaintance easy. The office force was like one + family among which there was no line of caste. Proprietors, editors, and + printers were social equals; there was little ceremony among them—none + at all outside of the office.—[“The paper went to press at two + in the morning, then all the staff and all the compositors gathered + themselves together in the composing-room and drank beer and sang the + popular war-songs of the day until dawn.”—S. L. C., in 1908.]—Samuel + Clemens immediately became “Sam,” or “Josh,” to + his associates, just as De Quille was “Dan” and Goodman + “Joe.” He found that he disliked the name of Josh, and, as he + did not sign it again, it was presently dropped. The office, and Virginia + City generally, quickly grew fond of him, delighting in his originality + and measured speech. Enterprise readers began to identify his work, then + unsigned, and to enjoy its fresh phrasing, even when it was only the usual + local item or mining notice. True to its name and reputation, the paper + had added a new attraction. + </p> + <p> + It was only a brief time after his arrival in Virginia City that Clemens + began the series of hoaxes which would carry his reputation, not always in + an enviable fashion, across the Sierras and down the Pacific coast. With + one exception these are lost to-day, for so far as known there is not a + single file of the Enterprise in existence. Only a few stray copies and + clippings are preserved, but we know the story of some of these literary + pranks and of their results. They were usually intended as a special + punishment of some particular individual or paper or locality; but victims + were gathered by the wholesale in their seductive web. Mark Twain himself, + in his book of Sketches, has set down something concerning the first of + these, “The Petrified Man,” and of another, “My Bloody + Massacre,” but in neither case has he told it all. “The + Petrified Man” hoax was directed at an official named Sewall, a + coroner and justice of the peace at Humboldt, who had been pompously + indifferent in the matter of supplying news. The story, told with great + circumstance and apparent care as to detail, related the finding of a + petrified prehistoric man, partially imbedded in a rock, in a cave in the + desert more than one hundred miles from Humboldt, and how Sewall had made + the perilous five-day journey in the alkali waste to hold an inquest over + a man that had been dead three hundred years; also how, “with that + delicacy so characteristic of him,” Sewall had forbidden the miners + from blasting him from his position. The account further stated that the + hands of the deceased were arranged in a peculiar fashion; and the + description of the arrangement was so skilfully woven in with other + matters that at first, or even second, reading one might not see that the + position indicated was the ancient one which begins with the thumb at the + nose and in many ages has been used impolitely to express ridicule and the + word “sold.” But the description was a shade too ingenious. + The author expected that the exchanges would see the jolt and perhaps + assist in the fun he would have with Sewall. He did not contemplate a joke + on the papers themselves. As a matter of fact, no one saw the “sell” + and most of the papers printed his story of the petrified man as a genuine + discovery. This was a surprise, and a momentary disappointment; then he + realized that he had builded better than he knew. He gathered up a bundle + of the exchanges and sent them to Sewall; also he sent marked copies to + scientific men in various parts of the United States. The papers had taken + it seriously; perhaps the scientists would. Some of them did, and Sewall's + days became unhappy because of letters received asking further + information. As literature, the effort did not rank high, and as a trick + on an obscure official it was hardly worth while; but, as a joke on the + Coast exchanges and press generally, it was greatly regarded and its + author, though as yet unnamed, acquired prestige. + </p> + <p> + Inquiries began to be made as to who was the smart chap in Virginia that + did these things. The papers became wary and read Enterprise items twice + before clipping them. Clemens turned his attention to other matters to + lull suspicion. The great “Dutch Nick Massacre” did not follow + until a year later. + </p> + <p> + Reference has already been made to the Comstock's delight in humor of a + positive sort. The practical joke was legal tender in Virginia. One might + protest and swear, but he must take it. An example of Comstock humor, + regarded as the finest assay, is an incident still told of Leslie + Blackburn and Pat Holland, two gay men about town. They were coming down C + Street one morning when they saw some fine watermelons on a fruit-stand at + the International Hotel corner. Watermelons were rare and costly in that + day and locality, and these were worth three dollars apiece. Blackburn + said: + </p> + <p> + “Pat, let's get one of those watermelons. You engage that fellow in + conversation while I stand at the corner, where I can step around out of + sight easily. When you have got him interested, point to something on the + back shelf and pitch me a melon.” + </p> + <p> + This appealed to Holland, and he carried out his part of the plan + perfectly; but when he pitched the watermelon Blackburn simply put his + hands in his pockets, and stepped around the corner, leaving the melon a + fearful disaster on the pavement. It was almost impossible for Pat to + explain to the fruit-man why he pitched away a three-dollar melon like + that even after paying for it, and it was still more trying, also more + expensive, to explain to the boys facing the various bars along C Street. + </p> + <p> + Sam Clemens, himself a practical joker in his youth, found a healthy + delight in this knock-down humor of the Comstock. It appealed to his + vigorous, elemental nature. He seldom indulged physically in such things; + but his printed squibs and hoaxes and his keen love of the ridiculous + placed him in the joker class, while his prompt temper, droll manner, and + rare gift of invective made him an enticing victim. + </p> + <p> + Among the Enterprise compositors was one by the name of Stephen E. Gillis + (Steve, of course—one of the “fighting Gillises”), a + small, fearless young fellow, handsome, quick of wit, with eyes like + needle-points. + </p> + <p> + “Steve weighed only ninety-five pounds,” Mark Twain once wrote + of him, “but it was well known throughout the Territory that with + his fists he could whip anybody that walked on two legs, let his weight + and science be what they might.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens was fond of Steve Gillis from the first. The two became closely + associated in time, and were always bosom friends; but Steve was a + merciless joker, and never as long as they were together could he “resist + the temptation of making Sam swear,” claiming that his profanity was + grander than any music. + </p> + <p> + A word hereabout Mark Twain's profanity. Born with a matchless gift of + phrase, the printing-office, the river, and the mines had developed it in + a rare perfection. To hear him denounce a thing was to give one the + fierce, searching delight of galvanic waves. Every characterization seemed + the most perfect fit possible until he applied the next. And somehow his + profanity was seldom an offense. It was not mere idle swearing; it seemed + always genuine and serious. His selection of epithet was always dignified + and stately, from whatever source—and it might be from the Bible or + the gutter. Some one has defined dirt as misplaced matter. It is perhaps + the greatest definition ever uttered. It is absolutely universal in its + application, and it recurs now, remembering Mark Twain's profanity. For it + was rarely misplaced; hence it did not often offend. It seemed, in fact, + the safety-valve of his high-pressure intellectual engine. When he had + blown off he was always calm, gentle; forgiving, and even tender. Once + following an outburst he said, placidly: + </p> + <p> + “In certain trying circumstances, urgent circumstances, desperate + circumstances, profanity furnishes a relief denied even to prayer.” + </p> + <p> + It seems proper to add that it is not the purpose of this work to magnify + or modify or excuse that extreme example of humankind which forms its + chief subject; but to set him down as he was inadequately, of course, but + with good conscience and clear intent. + </p> + <p> + Led by Steve Gillis, the Enterprise force used to devise tricks to set him + going. One of these was to hide articles from his desk. He detested the + work necessary to the care of a lamp, and wrote by the light of a candle. + To hide “Sam's candle” was a sure way to get prompt and + vigorous return. He would look for it a little; then he would begin a + slow, circular walk—a habit acquired in the limitations of the + pilot-house—and his denunciation of the thieves was like a great + orchestration of wrong. By and by the office boy, supposedly innocent, + would find another for him, and all would be forgotten. He made a placard, + labeled with fearful threats and anathemas, warning any one against + touching his candle; but one night both the placard and the candle were + gone. + </p> + <p> + Now, among his Virginia acquaintances was a young minister, a Mr. Rising, + “the fragile, gentle new fledgling” of the Buck Fanshaw + episode. Clemens greatly admired Mr. Rising's evident sincerity, and the + young minister had quickly recognized the new reporter's superiority of + mind. Now and then he came to the office to call on him. Unfortunately, he + happened to step in just at that moment when, infuriated by the latest + theft of his property, Samuel Clemens was engaged in his rotary + denunciation of the criminals, oblivious of every other circumstance. Mr. + Rising stood spellbound by this, to him, new phase of genius, and at last + his friend became dimly aware of him. He did not halt in his scathing + treadmill and continued in the slow monotone of speech: + </p> + <p> + “I know, Mr. Rising, I know it's wicked to talk like this; I know it + is wrong. I know I shall certainly go to hell for it. But if you had a + candle, Mr. Rising, and those thieves should carry it off every night, I + know that you would say, just as I say, Mr. Rising, G-d d—n their + impenitent souls, may they roast in hell for a million years.” + </p> + <p> + The little clergyman caught his breath. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe I should, Mr. Clemens,” he replied, “but I should + try to say, 'Forgive them, Father, they know not what they do.'” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well! if you put it on the ground that they are just fools, + that alters the case, as I am one of that class myself. Come in and we'll + try to forgive them and forget about it.” + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain had a good many experiences with young ministers. He was always + fond of them, and they often sought him out. Once, long afterward, at a + hotel, he wanted a boy to polish his shoes, and had rung a number of times + without getting any response. Presently, he thought he heard somebody + approaching in the hall outside. He flung open the door, and a small, + youngish-looking person, who seemed to have been hesitating at the door, + made a movement as though to depart hastily. Clemens grabbed him by the + collar. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” he said, “I've been waiting and ringing + here for half an hour. Now I want you to take those shoes, and polish + them, quick. Do you hear?” + </p> + <p> + The slim, youthful person trembled a good deal, and said: “I would, + Mr. Clemens, I would indeed, sir, if I could. But I'm a minister of the + Gospel, and I'm not prepared for such work.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0043" id="link2H_4_0043"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXIX. PHILOSOPHY AND POETRY + </h2> + <p> + There was a side to Samuel Clemens that in those days few of his + associates saw. This was the poetic, the philosophic, the contemplative + side. Joseph Goodman recognized this phase of his character, and, while he + perhaps did not regard it as a future literary asset, he delighted in it, + and in their hours of quiet association together encouraged its + exhibition. It is rather curious that with all his literary penetration + Goodman did not dream of a future celebrity for Clemens. He afterward + said: + </p> + <p> + “If I had been asked to prophesy which of the two men, Dan de Quille + or Sam, would become distinguished, I should have said De Quille. Dan was + talented, industrious, and, for that time and place, brilliant. Of course, + I recognized the unusualness of Sam's gifts, but he was eccentric and + seemed to lack industry; it is not likely that I should have prophesied + fame for him then.” + </p> + <p> + Goodman, like MacFarlane in Cincinnati, half a dozen years before, though + by a different method, discovered and developed the deeper vein. Often the + two, dining together in a French restaurant, discussed life, subtler + philosophies, recalled various phases of human history, remembered and + recited the poems that gave them especial enjoyment. “The Burial of + Moses,” with its noble phrasing and majestic imagery, appealed + strongly to Clemens, and he recited it with great power. The first stanza + in particular always stirred him, and it stirred his hearer as well. With + eyes half closed and chin lifted, a lighted cigar between his fingers, he + would lose himself in the music of the stately lines. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + By Nebo's lonely mountain, + On this side Jordan's wave, + In a vale in the land of Moab, + There lies a lonely grave. + + And no man knows that sepulchre, + And no man saw it e'er, + For the angels of God, upturned the sod, + And laid the dead man there. +</pre> + <p> + Another stanza that he cared for almost as much was the one beginning: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + And had he not high honor + —The hill-side for a pall, + To lie in state while angels wait + With stars for tapers tall, + And the dark rock-pines, like tossing plumes, + Over his bier to wave, + And God's own hand in that lonely land, + To lay him in the grave? +</pre> + <p> + Without doubt he was moved to emulate the simple grandeur of that poem, + for he often repeated it in those days, and somewhat later we find it + copied into his notebook in full. It would seem to have become to him a + sort of literary touchstone; and in some measure it may be regarded as + accountable for the fact that in the fullness of time “he made use + of the purest English of any modern writer.” These are Goodman's + words, though William Dean Howells has said them, also, in substance, and + Brander Matthews, and many others who know about such things. Goodman + adds, “The simplicity and beauty of his style are almost without a + parallel, except in the common version of the Bible,” which is also + true. One is reminded of what Macaulay said of Milton: + </p> + <p> + “There would seem at first sight to be no more in his words than in + other words. But they are words of enchantment. No sooner are they + pronounced than the past is present and the distance near. New forms of + beauty start at once into existence, and all the burial-places of the + memory give up their dead.” + </p> + <p> + One drifts ahead, remembering these things. The triumph of words, the + mastery of phrases, lay all before him at the time of which we are writing + now. He was twenty-seven. At that age Rudyard Kipling had reached his + meridian. Samuel Clemens was still in the classroom. Everything came as a + lesson-phrase, form, aspect, and combination; nothing escaped unvalued. + The poetic phase of things particularly impressed him. Once at a dinner + with Goodman, when the lamp-light from the chandelier struck down through + the claret on the tablecloth in a great red stain, he pointed to it + dramatically “Look, Joe,” he said, “the angry tint of + wine.” + </p> + <p> + It was at one of these private sessions, late in '62, that Clemens + proposed to report the coming meeting of the Carson legislature. He knew + nothing of such work and had small knowledge of parliamentary proceedings. + Formerly it had been done by a man named Gillespie, but Gillespie was now + clerk of the house. Goodman hesitated; then, remembering that whether + Clemens got the reports right or not, he would at least make them + readable, agreed to let him undertake the work. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0044" id="link2H_4_0044"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XL. “MARK TWAIN” + </h2> + <p> + The early Nevada legislature was an interesting assembly. All State + legislatures are that, and this was a mining frontier. No attempt can be + made to describe it. It was chiefly distinguished for a large ignorance of + procedure, a wide latitude of speech, a noble appreciation of humor, and + plenty of brains. How fortunate Mask Twain was in his schooling, to be + kept away from institutional training, to be placed in one after another + of those universities of life where the sole curriculum is the study of + the native inclinations and activities of mankind! Sometimes, in + after-years, he used to regret the lack of systematic training. Well for + him—and for us—that he escaped that blight. + </p> + <p> + For the study of human nature the Nevada assembly was a veritable + lecture-room. In it his understanding, his wit, his phrasing, his + self-assuredness grew like Jack's bean-stalk, which in time was ready to + break through into a land above the sky. He made some curious blunders in + his reports, in the beginning; but he was so frank in his ignorance and in + his confession of it that the very unsophistication of his early letters + became their chief charm. Gillespie coached him on parliamentary matters, + and in time the reports became technically as well as artistically good. + Clemens in return christened Gillespie “Young, Jefferson's Manual,” + a title which he bore, rather proudly indeed, for many years. + </p> + <p> + Another “entitlement” growing out of those early reports, and + possibly less satisfactory to its owner, was the one accorded to Clement + T. Rice, of the Virginia City Union. Rice knew the legislative work + perfectly and concluded to poke fun at the Enterprise letters. + </p> + <p> + But this was a mistake. Clemens in his next letter declared that Rice's + reports might be parliamentary enough, but that they covered with + glittering technicalities the most festering mass of misstatement, and + even crime. He avowed that they were wholly untrustworthy; dubbed the + author of them “The Unreliable,” and in future letters never + referred to him by any other term. Carson and the Comstock and the papers + of the Coast delighted in this burlesque journalistic warfare, and Rice + was “The Unreliable” for life. + </p> + <p> + Rice and Clemens, it should be said, though rivals, were the best of + friends, and there was never any real animosity between them. + </p> + <p> + Clemens quickly became a favorite with the members; his sharp letters, + with their amusing turn of phrase and their sincerity, won general + friendship. Jack Simmons, speaker of the house, and Billy Clagget, the + Humboldt delegation, were his special cronies and kept him on the inside + of the political machine. Clagget had remained in Unionville after the + mining venture, warned his Keokuk sweetheart, and settled down into + politics and law. In due time he would become a leading light and go to + Congress. He was already a notable figure of forceful eloquence and + tousled, unkempt hair. Simmons, Clagget, and Clemens were easily the three + conspicuous figures of the session. + </p> + <p> + It must have been gratifying to the former prospector and miner to come + back to Carson City a person of consequence, where less than a year before + he had been regarded as no more than an amusing indolent fellow, a figure + to smile at, but unimportant. There is a photograph extant of Clemens and + his friends Clagget and Simmons in a group, and we gather from it that he + now arrayed himself in a long broadcloth cloak, a starched shirt, and + polished boots. Once more he had become the glass of fashion that he had + been on the river. He made his residence with Orion, whose wife and little + daughter Jennie had by this time come out from the States. “Sister + Mollie,” as wife of the acting governor, was presently social leader + of the little capital; her brilliant brother-in-law its chief ornament. + His merriment and songs and good nature made him a favorite guest. His + lines had fallen in pleasant places; he could afford to smile at the hard + Esmeralda days. + </p> + <p> + He was not altogether satisfied. His letters, copied and quoted all along + the Coast, were unsigned. They were easily identified with one another, + but not with a personality. He realized that to build a reputation it was + necessary to fasten it to an individuality, a name. + </p> + <p> + He gave the matter a good deal of thought. He did not consider the use of + his own name; the 'nom de plume' was the fashion of the time. He wanted + something brief, crisp, definite, unforgettable. He tried over a good many + combinations in his mind, but none seemed convincing. Just then—this + was early in 1863—news came to him that the old pilot he had wounded + by his satire, Isaiah Sellers, was dead. At once the pen-name of Captain + Sellers recurred to him. That was it; that was the sort of name he wanted. + It was not trivial; it had all the qualities—Sellers would never + need it again. Clemens decided he would give it a new meaning and new + association in this far-away land. He went up to Virginia City. + </p> + <p> + “Joe,” he said, to Goodman, “I want to sign my articles. + I want to be identified to a wider audience.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, Sam. What name do you want to use 'Josh'?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I want to sign them 'Mark Twain.' It is an old river term, a + leads-man's call, signifying two fathoms—twelve feet. It has a + richness about it; it was always a pleasant sound for a pilot to hear on a + dark night; it meant safe water.” + </p> + <p> + He did not then mention that Captain Isaiah Sellers had used and dropped + the name. He was ashamed of his part in that episode, and the offense was + still too recent for confession. Goodman considered a moment: + </p> + <p> + “Very well, Sam,” he said, “that sounds like a good + name.” + </p> + <p> + It was indeed a good name. In all the nomenclature of the world no more + forceful combination of words could have been selected to express the man + for whom they stood. The name Mark Twain is as infinite, as fundamental as + that of John Smith, without the latter's wasting distribution of strength. + If all the prestige in the name of John Smith were combined in a single + individual, its dynamic energy might give it the carrying power of Mark + Twain. Let this be as it may, it has proven the greatest 'nom de plume' + ever chosen—a name exactly in accord with the man, his work, and his + career. + </p> + <p> + It is not surprising that Goodman did not recognize this at the moment. We + should not guess the force that lies in a twelve-inch shell if we had + never seen one before or heard of its seismic destruction. We should have + to wait and see it fired, and take account of the result. + </p> + <p> + It was first signed to a Carson letter bearing date of February 2, 1863, + and from that time was attached to all Samuel Clemens's work. The work was + neither better nor worse than before, but it had suddenly acquired + identification and special interest. Members of the legislature and + friends in Virginia and Carson immediately began to address him as “Mark.” + The papers of the Coast took it up, and within a period to be measured by + weeks he was no longer “Sam” or “Clemens” or + “that bright chap on the Enterprise,” but “Mark”—“Mark + Twain.” No 'nom de plume' was ever so quickly and generally accepted + as that. De Quille, returning from the East after an absence of several + months, found his room and deskmate with the distinction of a new name and + fame. + </p> + <p> + It is curious that in the letters to the home folks preserved from that + period there is no mention of his new title and its success. In fact, the + writer rarely speaks of his work at all, and is more inclined to tell of + the mining shares he has accumulated, their present and prospective + values. However, many of the letters are undoubtedly missing. Such as have + been preserved are rather airy epistles full of his abounding joy of life + and good nature. Also they bear evidence of the renewal of his old river + habit of sending money home—twenty dollars in each letter, with + intervals of a week or so between. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0045" id="link2H_4_0045"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XLI. THE CREAM OF COMSTOCK HUMOR + </h2> + <p> + With the adjournment of the legislature, Samuel Clemens returned to + Virginia City distinctly a notability—Mark Twain. He was regarded as + leading man on the Enterprise—which in itself was high distinction + on the Comstock—while his improved dress and increased prosperity + commanded additional respect. When visitors of note came along—well-known + actors, lecturers, politicians—he was introduced as one of the + Comstock features which it was proper to see, along with the Ophir and + Gould and Curry mines, and the new hundred-stamp quartz-mill. + </p> + <p> + He was rather grieved and hurt, therefore, when, after several collections + had been taken up in the Enterprise office to present various members of + the staff with meerschaum pipes, none had come to him. He mentioned this + apparent slight to Steve Gillis: + </p> + <p> + “Nobody ever gives me a meerschaum pipe,” he said, + plaintively. “Don't I deserve one yet?” + </p> + <p> + Unhappy day! To that remorseless creature, Steve Gillis, this was a golden + opportunity for deviltry of a kind that delighted his soul. This is the + story, precisely as Gillis himself told it to the writer of these annals + more than a generation later: + </p> + <p> + “There was a German kept a cigar store in Virginia City and always + had a fine assortment of meerschaum pipes. These pipes usually cost + anywhere from forty to seventy-five dollars. + </p> + <p> + “One day Denis McCarthy and I were walking by the old German's + place, and stopped to look in at the display in the window. Among other + things there was one large imitation meerschaum with a high bowl and a + long stem, marked a dollar and a half. + </p> + <p> + “I decided that that would be just the pipe for Sam. We went in and + bought it, also a very much longer stem. I think the stem alone cost three + dollars. Then we had a little German-silver plate engraved with Mark's + name on it and by whom presented, and made preparations for the + presentation. Charlie Pope—[afterward proprietor of Pope's Theater, + St. Louis]—was playing at the Opera House at the time, and we + engaged him to make the presentation speech. + </p> + <p> + “Then we let in Dan de Quille, Mark's closest friend, to act the + part of Judas—to tell Mark privately that he, was going to be + presented with a fine pipe, so that he could have a speech prepared in + reply to Pope's. It was awful low-down in Dan. We arranged to have the + affair come off in the saloon beneath the Opera House after the play was + over. + </p> + <p> + “Everything went off handsomely; but it was a pretty remorseful + occasion, and some of us had a hang-dog look; for Sam took it in such + sincerity, and had prepared one of the most beautiful speeches I ever + heard him make. Pope's presentation, too, was beautifully done. He told + Sam how his friends all loved him, and that this pipe, purchased at so + great an expense, was but a small token of their affection. But Sam's + reply, which was supposed to be impromptu, actually brought the tears to + the eyes of some of us, and he was interrupted every other minute with + applause. I never felt so sorry for anybody. + </p> + <p> + “Still, we were bent on seeing the thing through. After Sam's speech + was finished, he ordered expensive wines—champagne and sparkling + Moselle. Then we went out to do the town, and kept things going until + morning to drown our sorrow. + </p> + <p> + “Well, next day, of course, he started in to color the pipe. It + wouldn't color any more than a piece of chalk, which was about all it was. + Sam would smoke and smoke, and complain that it didn't seem to taste + right, and that it wouldn't color. Finally Denis said to him one day: + </p> + <p> + “'Oh, Sam, don't you know that's just a damned old egg-shell, and + that the boys bought it for a dollar and a half and presented you with it + for a joke?' + </p> + <p> + “Then Sam was furious, and we laid the whole thing on Dan de Quille. + He had a thunder-cloud on his face when he started up for the Local Room, + where Dan was. He went in and closed the door behind him, and locked it, + and put the key in his pocket—an awful sign. Dan was there alone, + writing at his table. + </p> + <p> + “Sam said, 'Dan, did you know, when you invited me to make that + speech, that those fellows were going to give me a bogus pipe?' + </p> + <p> + “There was no way for Dan to escape, and he confessed. Sam walked up + and down the floor, as if trying to decide which way to slay Dan. Finally + he said: + </p> + <p> + “'Oh, Dan, to think that you, my dearest friend, who knew how little + money I had, and how hard I would work to prepare a speech that would show + my gratitude to my friends, should be the traitor, the Judas, to betray me + with a kiss! Dan, I never want to look on your face again. You knew I + would spend every dollar I had on those pirates when I couldn't afford to + spend anything; and yet you let me do it; you aided and abetted their + diabolical plan, and you even got me to get up that damned speech to make + the thing still more ridiculous.' + </p> + <p> + “Of course Dan felt terribly, and tried to defend himself by saying + that they were really going to present him with a fine pipe—a + genuine one, this time. But Sam at first refused to be comforted; and + when, a few days later, I went in with the pipe and said, 'Sam, here's the + pipe the boys meant to give you all the time,' and tried to apologize, he + looked around a little coldly, and said: + </p> + <p> + “'Is that another of those bogus old pipes?' + </p> + <p> + “He accepted it, though, and general peace was restored. One day, + soon after, he said to me: + </p> + <p> + “'Steve, do you know that I think that that bogus pipe smokes about + as well as the good one?'” + </p> + <p> + Many years later (this was in his home at Hartford, and Joe Goodman was + present) Mark Twain one day came upon the old imitation pipe. + </p> + <p> + “Joe,” he said, “that was a cruel, cruel trick the boys + played on me; but, for the feeling I had during the moment when they + presented me with that pipe and when Charlie Pope was making his speech + and I was making my reply to it—for the memory of that feeling, now, + that pipe is more precious to me than any pipe in the world!” + </p> + <p> + Eighteen hundred and sixty-three was flood-tide on the Comstock. Every + mine was working full blast. Every mill was roaring and crunching, turning + out streams of silver and gold. A little while ago an old resident wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When I close my eyes I hear again the respirations of hoisting- + engines and the roar of stamps; I can see the “camels” after + midnight packing in salt; I can see again the jam of teams on C + Street and hear the anathemas of the drivers—all the mighty work + that went on in order to lure the treasures from the deep chambers + of the great lode and to bring enlightenment to the desert. +</pre> + <p> + Those were lively times. In the midst of one of his letters home Mark + Twain interrupts himself to say: “I have just heard five + pistol-shots down the street—as such things are in my line, I will + go and see about it,” and in a postscript added a few hours later: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 5 A.M. The pistol-shot did its work well. One man, a Jackson + County Missourian, shot two of my friends (police officers) through + the heart—both died within three minutes. The murderer's name is + John Campbell. +</pre> + <p> + “Mark and I had our hands full,” says De Quille, “and no + grass grew under our feet.” In answer to some stray criticism of + their policy, they printed a sort of editorial manifesto: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Our duty is to keep the universe thoroughly posted concerning + murders and street fights, and balls, and theaters, and pack-trains, + and churches, and lectures, and school-houses, and city military + affairs, and highway robberies, and Bible societies, and hay-wagons, + and the thousand other things which it is in the province of local + reporters to keep track of and magnify into undue importance for the + instruction of the readers of a great daily newspaper. +</pre> + <p> + It is easy to recognize Mark Twain's hand in that compendium of labor, + which, in spite of its amusing apposition, was literally true, and so + intended, probably with no special thought of humor in its construction. + It may be said, as well here as anywhere, that it was not Mark Twain's + habit to strive for humor. He saw facts at curious angles and phrased them + accordingly. In Virginia City he mingled with the turmoil of the Comstock + and set down what he saw and thought, in his native speech. The Comstock, + ready to laugh, found delight in his expression and discovered a vast + humor in his most earnest statements. + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, there were times when the humor was intended and missed + its purpose. We have already recalled the instance of the “Petrified + Man” hoax, which was taken seriously; but the “Empire City + Massacre” burlesque found an acceptance that even its author + considered serious for a time. It is remembered to-day in Virginia City as + the chief incident of Mark Twain's Comstock career. + </p> + <p> + This literary bomb really had two objects, one of which was to punish the + San Francisco Bulletin for its persistent attacks on Washoe interests; the + other, though this was merely incidental, to direct an unpleasant + attention to a certain Carson saloon, the Magnolia, which was supposed to + dispense whisky of the “forty rod” brand—that is, a + liquor warranted to kill at that range. It was the Bulletin that was to be + made especially ridiculous. This paper had been particularly disagreeable + concerning the “dividend-cooking” system of certain of the + Comstock mines, at the same time calling invidious attention to safer + investments in California stocks. Samuel Clemens, with “half a + trunkful” of Comstock shares, had cultivated a distaste for + California things in general: In a letter of that time he says: + </p> + <p> + “How I hate everything that looks or tastes or smells like + California!” With his customary fickleness of soul, he was + glorifying California less than a year later, but for the moment he could + see no good in that Nazareth. To his great satisfaction, one of the + leading California corporations, the Spring Valley Water Company, “cooked” + a dividend of its own about this time, resulting in disaster to a number + of guileless investors who were on the wrong side of the subsequent crash. + This afforded an inviting opportunity for reprisal. With Goodman's consent + he planned for the California papers, and the Bulletin in particular, a + punishment which he determined to make sufficiently severe. He believed + the papers of that State had forgotten his earlier offenses, and the + result would show he was not mistaken. + </p> + <p> + There was a point on the Carson River, four miles from Carson City, known + as “Dutch Nick's,” and also as Empire City, the two being + identical. There was no forest there of any sort nothing but sage-brush. + In the one cabin there lived a bachelor with no household. Everybody in + Virginia and Carson, of course, knew these things. + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain now prepared a most lurid and graphic account of how one + Phillip Hopkins, living “just at the edge of the great pine forest + which lies between Empire City and 'Dutch Nick's',” had suddenly + gone insane and murderously assaulted his entire family consisting of his + wife and their nine children, ranging in ages from one to nineteen years. + The wife had been slain outright, also seven of the children; the other + two might recover. The murder had been committed in the most brutal and + ghastly fashion, after which Hopkins had scalped his wife, leaped on a + horse, cut his own throat from ear to ear, and ridden four miles into + Carson City, dropping dead at last in front of the Magnolia saloon, the + red-haired scalp of his wife still clutched in his gory hand. The article + further stated that the cause of Mr. Hopkins's insanity was pecuniary + loss, he having withdrawn his savings from safe Comstock investments and, + through the advice of a relative, one of the editors of the San Francisco + Bulletin, invested them in the Spring Valley Water Company. This absurd + tale with startling head-lines appeared in the Enterprise, in its issue of + October 28, 1863. + </p> + <p> + It was not expected that any one in Virginia City or Carson City would for + a moment take any stock in the wild invention, yet so graphic was it that + nine out of ten on first reading never stopped to consider the entire + impossibility of the locality and circumstance. Even when these things + were pointed out many readers at first refused to confess themselves sold. + As for the Bulletin and other California papers, they were taken-in + completely, and were furious. Many of them wrote and demanded the + immediate discharge of its author, announcing that they would never copy + another line from the Enterprise, or exchange with it, or have further + relations with a paper that had Mark Twain on its staff. Citizens were + mad, too, and cut off their subscriptions. The joker was in despair. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Joe,” he said, “I have ruined your business, and + the only reparation I can make is to resign. You can never recover from + this blow while I am on the paper.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense,” replied Goodman. “We can furnish the people + with news, but we can't supply them with sense. Only time can do that. The + flurry will pass. You just go ahead. We'll win out in the long run.” + </p> + <p> + But the offender was in torture; he could not sleep. “Dan, Dan,” + he said, “I am being burned alive on both sides of the mountains.” + </p> + <p> + “Mark,” said Dan. “It will all blow over. This item of + yours will be remembered and talked about when the rest of your Enterprise + work is forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + Both Goodman and De Quille were right. In a month papers and people had + forgotten their humiliation and laughed. “The Dutch Nick Massacre” + gave to its perpetrator and to the Enterprise an added vogue. —[For + full text of the “Dutch Nick” hoax see Appendix C, at the end + of last volume: also, for an anecdote concerning a reporting excursion + made by Alf. Doten and Mark Twain.]— + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0046" id="link2H_4_0046"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XLII REPORTORIAL DAYS. + </h2> + <p> + Reference has already been made to the fashion among Virginia City papers + of permitting reporters to use the editorial columns for ridicule of one + another. This custom was especially in vogue during the period when Dan de + Quille and Mark Twain and The Unreliable were the shining journalistic + lights of the Comstock. Scarcely a week went by that some apparently + venomous squib or fling or long burlesque assault did not appear either in + the Union or the Enterprise, with one of those jokers as its author and + another as its target. In one of his “home” letters of that + year Mark Twain says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have just finished writing up my report for the morning paper and + giving The Unreliable a column of advice about how to conduct + himself in church. +</pre> + <p> + The advice was such as to call for a reprisal, but it apparently made no + difference in personal relations, for a few weeks later he is with The + Unreliable in San Francisco, seeing life in the metropolis, fairly + swimming in its delights, unable to resist reporting them to his mother. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We fag ourselves completely out every day and go to sleep without + rocking every night. When I go down Montgomery Street shaking hands + with Tom, Dick, and Harry, it is just like being on Main Street in + Hannibal and meeting the old familiar faces. I do hate to go back + to Washoe. We take trips across the bay to Oakland, and down to San + Leandro and Alameda, and we go out to the Willows and Hayes Park and + Fort Point, and up to Benicia; and yesterday we were invited out on + a yachting excursion, and had a sail in the fastest yacht on the + Pacific coast. Rice says: “Oh no—we are not having any fun, Mark + —oh no—I reckon it's somebody else—it's probably the gentleman in + the wagon” (popular slang phrase), and when I invite Rice to the + Lick House to dinner the proprietor sends us champagne and claret, + and then we do put on the most disgusting airs. The Unreliable says + our caliber is too light—we can't stand it to be noticed. +</pre> + <p> + Three days later he adds that he is going sorrowfully “to the snows + and the deserts of Washoe,” but that he has “lived like a lord + to make up for two years of privation.” + </p> + <p> + Twenty dollars is inclosed in each of these letters, probably as a bribe + to Jane Clemens to be lenient with his prodigalities, which in his + youthful love of display he could not bring himself to conceal. But + apparently the salve was futile, for in another letter, a month later, he + complains that his mother is “slinging insinuations” at him + again, such as “where did you get that money” and “the + company I kept in San Francisco.” He explains: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Why, I sold Wild Cat mining ground that was given me, and my credit + was always good at the bank for $2,000 or $3,000, and I never gamble + in any shape or manner, and never drink anything stronger than + claret and lager beer, which conduct is regarded as miraculously + temperate in this place. As for company, I went in the very best + company to be found in San Francisco. I always move in the best + society in Virginia and have a reputation to preserve. +</pre> + <p> + He closes by assuring her that he will be more careful in future and that + she need never fear but that he will keep her expenses paid. Then he + cannot refrain from adding one more item of his lavish life: + </p> + <p> + “Put in my washing, and it costs me one hundred dollars a month to + live.” + </p> + <p> + De Quille had not missed the opportunity of his comrade's absence to + payoff some old scores. At the end of the editorial column of the + Enterprise on the day following his departure he denounced the absent one + and his “protege,” The Unreliable, after the intemperate + fashion of the day. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It is to be regretted that such scrubs are ever permitted to visit + the bay, as the inevitable effect will be to destroy that exalted + opinion of the manners and morality of our people which was inspired + by the conduct of our senior editor—[which is to say, Dan + himself]—. +</pre> + <p> + The diatribe closed with a really graceful poem, and the whole was no + doubt highly regarded by the Enterprise readers. + </p> + <p> + What revenge Mark Twain took on his return has not been recorded, but it + was probably prompt and adequate; or he may have left it to The + Unreliable. It was clearly a mistake, however, to leave his own local work + in the hands of that properly named person a little later. Clemens was + laid up with a cold, and Rice assured him on his sacred honor that he + would attend faithfully to the Enterprise locals, along with his own Union + items. He did this, but he had been nursing old injuries too long. What + was Mark Twain's amazement on looking over the Enterprise next morning to + find under the heading “Apologetic” a statement over his own + nom de plume, purporting to be an apology for all the sins of ridicule to + the various injured ones. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + To Mayor Arick, Hon. Wm. Stewart, Marshal Perry, Hon. J. B. Winters, + Mr. Olin, and Samuel Wetherill, besides a host of others whom we + have ridiculed from behind the shelter of our reportorial position, + we say to these gentlemen we acknowledge our faults, and, in all + weakness and humility upon our bended marrow bones, we ask their + forgiveness, promising that in future we will give them no cause for + anything but the best of feeling toward us. To “Young Wilson” and + The Unreliable (as we have wickedly termed them), we feel that no + apology we can make begins to atone for the many insults we have + given them. Toward these gentlemen we have been as mean as a man + could be—and we have always prided ourselves on this base quality. + We feel that we are the least of all humanity, as it were. We will + now go in sack-cloth and ashes for the next forty days. +</pre> + <p> + This in his own paper over his own signature was a body blow; but it had + the effect of curing his cold. He was back in the office forthwith, and in + the next morning's issue denounced his betrayer. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We are to blame for giving The Unreliable an opportunity to + misrepresent us, and therefore refrain from repining to any great + extent at the result. We simply claim the right to deny the truth + of every statement made by him in yesterday's paper, to annul all + apologies he coined as coming from us, and to hold him up to public + commiseration as a reptile endowed with no more intellect, no more + cultivation, no more Christian principle than animates and adorns + the sportive jackass-rabbit of the Sierras. We have done. +</pre> + <p> + These were the things that enlivened Comstock journalism. Once in a boxing + bout Mark Twain got a blow on the nose which caused it to swell to an + unusual size and shape. He went out of town for a few days, during which + De Quille published an extravagant account of his misfortune, describing + the nose and dwelling on the absurdity of Mark Twain's ever supposing + himself to be a boxer. + </p> + <p> + De Quille scored heavily with this item but his own doom was written. Soon + afterward he was out riding and was thrown from his horse and bruised + considerably. + </p> + <p> + This was Mark's opportunity. He gave an account of Dan's disaster; then, + commenting, he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The idea of a plebeian like Dan supposing he could ever ride a + horse! He! why, even the cats and the chickens laughed when they + saw him go by. Of course, he would be thrown off. Of course, any + well-bred horse wouldn't let a common, underbred person like Dan + stay on his back! When they gathered him up he was just a bag of + scraps, but they put him together, and you'll find him at his old + place in the Enterprise office next week, still laboring under the + delusion that he's a newspaper man. +</pre> + <p> + The author of 'Roughing It' tells of a literary periodical called the + Occidental, started in Virginia City by a Mr. F. This was the + silver-tongued Tom Fitch, of the Union, an able speaker and writer, vastly + popular on the Coast. Fitch came to Clemens one day and said he was + thinking of starting such a periodical and asked him what he thought of + the venture. Clemens said: + </p> + <p> + “You would succeed if any one could, but start a flower-garden on + the desert of Sahara; set up hoisting-works on Mount Vesuvius for mining + sulphur; start a literary paper in Virginia City; h—l!” + </p> + <p> + Which was a correct estimate of the situation, and the paper perished with + the third issue. It was of no consequence except that it contained what + was probably the first attempt at that modern literary abortion, the + composite novel. Also, it died too soon to publish Mark Twain's first + verses of any pretension, though still of modest merit—“The + Aged Pilot Man”—which were thereby saved for 'Roughing It.' + </p> + <p> + Visiting Virginia now, it seems curious that any of these things could + have happened there. The Comstock has become little more than a memory; + Virginia and Gold Hill are so quiet, so voiceless, as to constitute + scarcely an echo of the past. The International Hotel, that once so + splendid edifice, through whose portals the tide of opulent life then + ebbed and flowed, is all but deserted now. One may wander at will through + its dingy corridors and among its faded fripperies, seeking in vain for + attendance or hospitality, the lavish welcome of a vanished day. Those + things were not lacking once, and the stream of wealth tossed up and down + the stair and billowed up C Street, an ebullient tide of metals and men + from which millionaires would be struck out, and individuals known in + national affairs. William M. Stewart who would one day become a United + States Senator, was there, an unnoticed unit; and John Mackay and James G. + Fair, one a senator by and by, and both millionaires, but poor enough then—Fair + with a pick on his shoulder and Mackay, too, at first, though he presently + became a mine superintendent. Once in those days Mark Twain banteringly + offered to trade businesses with Mackay. + </p> + <p> + “No,” Mackay said, “I can't trade. My business is not + worth as much as yours. I have never swindled anybody, and I don't intend + to begin now.” + </p> + <p> + Neither of those men could dream that within ten years their names would + be international property; that in due course Nevada would propose statues + to their memory. + </p> + <p> + Such things came out of the Comstock; such things spring out of every + turbulent frontier. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0047" id="link2H_4_0047"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XLIII. ARTEMUS WARD + </h2> + <p> + Madame Caprell's warning concerning Mark Twain's health at twenty-eight + would seem to have been justified. High-strung and neurotic, the strain of + newspaper work and the tumult of the Comstock had told on him. As in later + life, he was subject to bronchial colds, and more than once that year he + found it necessary to drop all work and rest for a time at Steamboat + Springs, a place near Virginia City, where there were boiling springs and + steaming fissures in the mountain-side, and a comfortable hotel. He + contributed from there sketches somewhat more literary in form than any of + his previous work. “Curing a Cold” is a more or less + exaggerated account of his ills. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Included in Sketches New and Old. “Information for the Million,” + and “Advice to Good Little Girls,” included in the “Jumping Frog” + Collection, 1867, but omitted from the Sketches, are also believed + to belong to this period.] +</pre> + <p> + A portion of a playful letter to his mother, written from the springs, + still exists. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + You have given my vanity a deadly thrust. Behold, I am prone to + boast of having the widest reputation as a local editor of any man + on the Pacific coast, and you gravely come forward and tell me “if I + work hard and attend closely to my business, I may aspire to a place + on a big San Francisco daily some day.” There's a comment on human + vanity for you! Why, blast it, I was under the impression that I + could get such a situation as that any time I asked for it. But I + don't want it. No paper in the United States can afford to pay me + what my place on the Enterprise is worth. If I were not naturally a + lazy, idle, good-for-nothing vagabond, I could make it pay me + $20,000 a year. But I don't suppose I shall ever be any account. I + lead an easy life, though, and I don't care a cent whether school + keeps or not. Everybody knows me, and I fare like a prince wherever + I go, be it on this side of the mountain or the other. And I am + proud to say I am the most conceited ass in the Territory. + + You think that picture looks old? Well, I can't help it—in reality + I'm not as old as I was when I was eighteen. +</pre> + <p> + Which was a true statement, so far as his general attitude was concerned. + At eighteen, in New York and Philadelphia, his letters had been grave, + reflective, advisory. Now they were mostly banter and froth, lightly + indifferent to the serious side of things, though perhaps only pretendedly + so, for the picture did look old. From the shock and circumstance of his + brother's death he—had never recovered. He was barely twenty-eight. + From the picture he might have been a man of forty. + </p> + <p> + It was that year that Artemus Ward (Charles F. Browne) came to Virginia + City. There was a fine opera-house in Virginia, and any attraction that + billed San Francisco did not fail to play to the Comstock. Ward intended + staying only a few days to deliver his lectures, but the whirl of the + Comstock caught him like a maelstrom, and he remained three weeks. + </p> + <p> + He made the Enterprise office his headquarters, and fairly reveled in the + company he found there. He and Mark Twain became boon companions. Each + recognized in the other a kindred spirit. With Goodman, De Quille, and + McCarthy, also E. E. Hingston—Ward's agent, a companionable fellow—they + usually dined at Chaumond's, Virginia's high-toned French restaurant. + </p> + <p> + Those were three memorable weeks in Mark Twain's life. Artemus Ward was in + the height of his fame, and he encouraged his new-found brother-humorist + and prophesied great things of him. Clemens, on his side, measured himself + by this man who had achieved fame, and perhaps with good reason concluded + that Ward's estimate was correct, that he too could win fame and honor, + once he got a start. If he had lacked ambition before Ward's visit, the + latter's unqualified approval inspired him with that priceless article of + equipment. He put his soul into entertaining the visitor during those + three weeks; and it was apparent to their associates that he was at least + Ward's equal in mental stature and originality. Goodman and the others + began to realize that for Mark Twain the rewards of the future were to be + measured only by his resolution and ability to hold out. On Christmas Eve + Artemus lectured in Silver City and afterward came to the Enterprise + office to give the boys a farewell dinner. The Enterprise always published + a Christmas carol, and Goodman sat at his desk writing it. He was just + finishing as Ward came in: + </p> + <p> + “Slave, slave,” said Artemus. “Come out and let me + banish care from you.” + </p> + <p> + They got the boys and all went over to Chaumond's, where Ward commanded + Goodman to order the dinner. When the cocktails came on, Artemus lifted + his glass and said: + </p> + <p> + “I give you Upper Canada.” + </p> + <p> + The company rose, drank the toast in serious silence; then Goodman said: + </p> + <p> + “Of course, Artemus, it's all right, but why did you give us Upper + Canada?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I don't want it myself,” said Ward, gravely. + </p> + <p> + Then began a rising tide of humor that could hardly be matched in the + world to-day. Mark Twain had awakened to a fuller power; Artemus Ward was + in his prime. They were giants of a race that became extinct when Mark + Twain died. The youth, the wine, the whirl of lights and life, the tumult + of the shouting street-it was as if an electric stream of inspiration + poured into those two human dynamos and sent them into a dazzling, + scintillating whirl. All gone—as evanescent, as forgotten, as the + lightnings of that vanished time; out of that vast feasting and + entertainment only a trifling morsel remains. Ward now and then asked + Goodman why he did not join in the banter. Goodman said: + </p> + <p> + “I'm preparing a joke, Artemus, but I'm keeping it for the present.” + </p> + <p> + It was near daybreak when Ward at last called for the bill. It was two + hundred and thirty-seven dollars. + </p> + <p> + “What”' exclaimed Artemus. + </p> + <p> + “That's my joke.” said Goodman. + </p> + <p> + “But I was only exclaiming because it was not twice as much,” + returned Ward. + </p> + <p> + He paid it amid laughter, and they went out into the early morning air. It + was fresh and fine outside, not yet light enough to see clearly. Artemus + threw his face up to the sky and said: + </p> + <p> + “I feel glorious. I feel like walking on the roofs.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia was built on the steep hillside, and the eaves of some of the + houses almost touched the ground behind them. + </p> + <p> + “There is your chance, Artemus,” Goodman said, pointing to a + row of these houses all about of a height. + </p> + <p> + Artemus grabbed Mark Twain, and they stepped out upon the long string of + roofs and walked their full length, arm in arm. Presently the others + noticed a lonely policeman cocking his revolver and getting ready to aim + in their direction. Goodman called to him: + </p> + <p> + “Wait a minute. What are you going to do?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to shoot those burglars,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Don't for your life. Those are not burglars. That's Mark Twain and + Artemus Ward.” + </p> + <p> + The roof-walkers returned, and the party went down the street to a corner + across from the International Hotel. A saloon was there with a barrel + lying in front, used, perhaps for a sort of sign. Artemus climbed astride + the barrel, and somebody brought a beer-glass and put it in his hand. + Virginia City looks out over the Eastward Desert. Morning was just + breaking upon the distant range-the scene as beautiful as when the sunrise + beams across the plain of Memnon. The city was not yet awake. The only + living creatures in sight were the group of belated diners, with Artemus + Ward, as King Gambrinus, pouring a libation to the sunrise. + </p> + <p> + That was the beginning of a week of glory. The farewell dinner became a + series. At the close of one convivial session Artemus went to a + concert-hall, the “Melodeon,” blacked his face, and delivered + a speech. He got away from Virginia about the close of the year. + </p> + <p> + A day or two later he wrote from Austin, Nevada, to his new-found comrade + as “My dearest Love,” recalling the happiness of his stay: + </p> + <p> + “I shall always remember Virginia as a bright spot in my existence, + as all others must or rather cannot be, as it were.” + </p> + <p> + Then reflectively he adds: + </p> + <p> + “Some of the finest intellects in the world have been blunted by + liquor.” + </p> + <p> + Rare Artemus Ward and rare Mark Twain! If there lies somewhere a place of + meeting and remembrance, they have not failed to recall there those + closing days of '63. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0048" id="link2H_4_0048"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XLIV. GOVERNOR OF THE “THIRD HOUSE” + </h2> + <p> + With Artemus Ward's encouragement, Clemens began to think of extending his + audience eastward. The New York Sunday Mercury published literary matter. + Ward had urged him to try this market, and promised to write a special + letter to the editors, introducing Mark Twain and his work. Clemens + prepared a sketch of the Comstock variety, scarcely refined in character + and full of personal allusion, a humor not suited to the present-day + reader. Its general subject was children; it contained some absurd + remedies, supposedly sent to his old pilot friend Zeb Leavenworth, and was + written as much for a joke on that good-natured soul as for profit or + reputation. + </p> + <p> + “I wrote it especially for Beck Jolly's use,” the author + declares, in a letter to his mother, “so he could pester Zeb with + it.” + </p> + <p> + We cannot know to-day whether Zeb was pestered or not. A faded clipping is + all that remains of the incident. As literature the article, properly + enough, is lost to the world at large. It is only worth remembering as his + metropolitan beginning. Yet he must have thought rather highly of it (his + estimation of his own work was always unsafe), for in the letter above + quoted he adds: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I cannot write regularly for the Mercury, of course, I sha'n't have + time. But sometimes I throw off a pearl (there is no self-conceit + about that, I beg you to observe) which ought for the eternal + welfare of my race to have a more extensive circulation than is + afforded by a local daily paper. + + And if Fitzhugh Ludlow (author of the 'Hasheesh Eater') comes your + way, treat him well. He published a high encomium upon Mark Twain + (the same being eminently just and truthful, I beseech you to + believe) in a San Francisco paper. Artemus Ward said that when my + gorgeous talents were publicly acknowledged by such high authority I + ought to appreciate them myself, leave sage-brush obscurity, and + journey to New York with him, as he wanted me to do. But I + preferred not to burst upon the New York public too suddenly and + brilliantly, so I concluded to remain here. +</pre> + <p> + He was in Carson City when this was written, preparing for the opening of + the next legislature. He was beyond question now the most conspicuous + figure of the capital; also the most wholesomely respected, for his + influence had become very large. It was said that he could control more + votes than any legislative member, and with his friends, Simmons and + Clagget, could pass or defeat any bill offered. The Enterprise was a + powerful organ—to be courted and dreaded—and Mark Twain had + become its chief tribune. That he was fearless, merciless, and + incorruptible, without doubt had a salutary influence on that legislative + session. He reveled in his power; but it is not recorded that he ever + abused it. He got a bill passed, largely increasing Orion's official fees, + but this was a crying need and was so recognized. He made no secret + promises, none at all that he did not intend to fulfill. “Sam's word + was as fixed as fate,” Orion records, and it may be added that he + was morally as fearless. + </p> + <p> + The two Houses of the last territorial legislature of Nevada assembled + January 12, 1864.—[Nevada became a State October 31, 1864.]—A + few days later a “Third House” was organized—an + institution quite in keeping with the happy atmosphere of that day and + locality, for it was a burlesque organization, and Mark Twain was selected + as its “Governor.” + </p> + <p> + The new House prepared to make a public occasion of this first session, + and its Governor was required to furnish a message. Then it was decided to + make it a church benefit. The letters exchanged concerning this + proposition still exist; they explain themselves: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + CARSON CITY, January 23, 1864. + + GOV. MARK TWAIN, Understanding from certain members of the Third + House of the territorial Legislature that that body will have + effected a permanent organization within a day or two, and be ready + for the reception of your Third Annual Message,—[ There had been + no former message. This was regarded as a great joke.]—we desire + to ask your permission, and that of the Third House, to turn the + affair to the benefit of the Church by charging toll-roads, + franchises, and other persons a dollar apiece for the privilege of + listening to your communication. + S. PIXLEY, + G. A. SEARS, + Trustees. + + CARSON CITY, January 23, 1864. + + GENTLEMEN,—Certainly. If the public can find anything in a grave + state paper worth paying a dollar for, I am willing they should pay + that amount, or any other; and although I am not a very dusty + Christian myself, I take an absorbing interest in religious affairs, + and would willingly inflict my annual message upon the Church itself + if it might derive benefit thereby. You can charge what you please; + I promise the public no amusement, but I do promise a reasonable + amount of instruction. I am responsible to the Third House only, + and I hope to be permitted to make it exceedingly warm for that + body, without caring whether the sympathies of the public and the + Church be enlisted in their favor, and against myself, or not. + Respectfully, + MARK TWAIN. +</pre> + <p> + Mark Twain's reply is closely related to his later style in phrase and + thought. It might have been written by him at almost any subsequent + period. Perhaps his association with Artemus Ward had awakened a new + perception of the humorous idea—a humor of repression, of + understatement. He forgot this often enough, then and afterward, and gave + his riotous fancy free rein; but on the whole the simpler, less florid + form seemingly began to attract him more and more. + </p> + <p> + His address as Governor of the Third House has not been preserved, but + those who attended always afterward referred to it as the “greatest + effort of his life.” Perhaps for that audience and that time this + verdict was justified. + </p> + <p> + It was his first great public opportunity. On the stage about him sat the + membership of the Third House; the building itself was packed, the aisles + full. He knew he could let himself go in burlesque and satire, and he did. + He was unsparing in his ridicule of the Governor, the officials in + general, the legislative members, and of individual citizens. From the + beginning to the end of his address the audience was in a storm of + laughter and applause. With the exception of the dinner speech made to the + printers in Keokuk, it was his first public utterance—the beginning + of a lifelong series of triumphs. + </p> + <p> + Only one thing marred his success. Little Carrie Pixley, daughter of one + of the “trustees,” had promised to be present and sit in a box + next the stage. It was like him to be fond of the child, and he had + promised to send a carriage for her. Often during his address he glanced + toward the box; but it remained empty. When the affair was ended, he drove + home with her father to inquire the reason. They found the little girl, in + all her finery, weeping on the bed. Then he remembered he had forgotten to + send the carriage; and that was like him, too. + </p> + <p> + For his Third House address Judge A. W. (Sandy) Baldwin and Theodore + Winters presented him with a gold watch inscribed to “Governor Mark + Twain.” He was more in demand now than ever; no social occasion was + regarded as complete without him. His doings were related daily and his + sayings repeated on the streets. Most of these things have passed away + now, but a few are still recalled with smiles. Once, when conundrums were + being asked at a party, he was urged to make one. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he sand, “why am I like the Pacific Ocean?” + </p> + <p> + Several guesses were made, but none satisfied him. Finally all gave it up. + </p> + <p> + “Tell us, Mark, why are you like the Pacific Ocean?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” he drawled. “I was just asking for + information.” + </p> + <p> + At another time, when a young man insisted on singing a song of eternal + length, the chorus of which was, “I'm going home, I'm going home, + I'm going home tomorrow,” Mark Twain put his head in the window and + said, pleadingly: + </p> + <p> + “For God's sake go to-night.” + </p> + <p> + But he was also fond of quieter society. Sometimes, after the turmoil of a + legislative morning, he would drop in to Miss Keziah Clapp's school and + listen to the exercises, or would call on Colonel Curry—“old + Curry, old Abe Curry”—and if the colonel happened to be away, + he would talk with Mrs. Curry, a motherly soul (still alive at + ninety-three, in 1910), and tell her of his Hannibal boyhood or his river + and his mining adventures, and keep her laughing until the tears ran. + </p> + <p> + He was a great pedestrian in those days. Sometimes he walked from Virginia + to Carson, stopping at Colonel Curry's as he came in for rest and + refreshment. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Curry,” he said once, “I have seen tireder men + than I am, and lazier men, but they were dead men.” He liked the + home feeling there—the peace and motherly interest. Deep down, he + was lonely and homesick; he was always so away from his own kindred. + </p> + <p> + Clemens returned now to Virginia City, and, like all other men who ever + met her, became briefly fascinated by the charms of Adah Isaacs Menken, + who was playing Mazeppa at the Virginia Opera House. All men—kings, + poets, priests, prize-fighters—fell under Menken's spell. Dan de + Quille and Mark Twain entered into a daily contest as to who could lavish + the most fervid praise on her in the Enterprise. The latter carried her + his literary work to criticize. He confesses this in one of his home + letters, perhaps with a sort of pride. + </p> + <p> + I took it over to show to Miss Menken the actress, Orpheus C. Ken's wife. + She is a literary cuss herself. + </p> + <p> + She has a beautiful white hand, but her handwriting is infamous; she + writes fast and her chirography is of the door-plate order—her + letters are immense. I gave her a conundrum, thus: + </p> + <p> + “My dear madam, why ought your hand to retain its present grace and + beauty always? Because you fool away devilish little of it on your + manuscript.” + </p> + <p> + But Menken was gone presently, and when he saw her again, somewhat later, + in San Francisco, his “madness” would have seemed to have been + allayed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0049" id="link2H_4_0049"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XLV. A COMSTOCK DUEL. + </h2> + <p> + The success—such as it was—of his occasional contributions to + the New York Sunday Mercury stirred Mark Twain's ambition for a wider + field of labor. Circumstance, always ready to meet his wishes, offered + assistance, though in an unexpected form. + </p> + <p> + Goodman, temporarily absent, had left Clemens in editorial charge. As in + that earlier day, when Orion had visited Tennessee and returned to find + his paper in a hot personal warfare with certain injured citizens, so the + Enterprise, under the same management, had stirred up trouble. It was just + at the time of the “Flour Sack Sanitary Fund,” the story of + which is related at length in 'Roughing It'. In the general hilarity of + this occasion, certain Enterprise paragraphs of criticism or ridicule had + incurred the displeasure of various individuals whose cause naturally + enough had been espoused by a rival paper, the Chronicle. Very soon the + original grievance, whatever it was, was lost sight of in the fireworks + and vitriol-throwing of personal recrimination between Mark Twain and the + Chronicle editor, then a Mr. Laird. + </p> + <p> + A point had been reached at length when only a call for bloodshed—a + challenge—could satisfy either the staff or the readers of the two + papers. Men were killed every week for milder things than the editors had + spoken each of the other. Joe Goodman himself, not so long before, had + fought a duel with a Union editor—Tom Fitch—and shot him in + the leg, so making of him a friend, and a lame man, for life. In Joe's + absence the prestige of the paper must be maintained. + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain himself has told in burlesque the story of his duel, keeping + somewhat nearer to the fact than was his custom in such writing, as may be + seen by comparing it with the account of his abettor and second—of + course, Steve Gillis. The account is from Mr. Gillis's own hand: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When Joe went away, he left Sam in editorial charge of the paper. + That was a dangerous thing to do. Nobody could ever tell what Sam + was going to write. Something he said stirred up Mr. Laird, of the + Chronicle, who wrote a reply of a very severe kind. He said some + things that we told Mark could only be wiped out with blood. Those + were the days when almost every man in Virginia City had fought with + pistols either impromptu or premeditated duels. I had been in + several, but then mine didn't count. Most of them were of the + impromptu kind. Mark hadn't had any yet, and we thought it about + time that his baptism took place. + + He was not eager for it; he was averse to violence, but we finally + prevailed upon him to send Laird a challenge, and when Laird did not + send a reply at once we insisted on Mark sending him another + challenge, by which time he had made himself believe that he really + wanted to fight, as much as we wanted him to do. Laird concluded to + fight, at last. I helped Mark get up some of the letters, and a man + who would not fight after such letters did not belong in Virginia + City—in those days. + + Laird's acceptance of Mark's challenge came along about midnight, I + think, after the papers had gone to press. The meeting was to take + place next morning at sunrise. + + Of course I was selected as Mark's second, and at daybreak I had him + up and out for some lessons in pistol practice before meeting Laird. + I didn't have to wake him. He had not been asleep. We had been + talking since midnight over the duel that was coming. I had been + telling him of the different duels in which I had taken part, either + as principal or second, and how many men I had helped to kill and + bury, and how it was a good plan to make a will, even if one had not + much to leave. It always looked well, I told him, and seemed to be + a proper thing to do before going into a duel. So Mark made a will + with a sort of gloomy satisfaction, and as soon as it was light + enough to see, we went out to a little ravine near the meeting- + place, and I set up a board for him to shoot at. He would step out, + raise that big pistol, and when I would count three he would shut + his eyes and pull the trigger. Of course he didn't hit anything; he + did not come anywhere near hitting anything. Just then we heard + somebody shooting over in the next ravine. Sam said: + + “What's that, Steve?” + + “Why,” I said, “that's Laud. His seconds are practising him over + there.” + + It didn't make my principal any more cheerful to hear that pistol go + off every few seconds over there. Just then I saw a little mud-hen + light on some sage-brush about thirty yards away. + + “Mark,” I said, “let me have that pistol. I'll show you how to + shoot.” + + He handed it to me, and I let go at the bird and shot its head off, + clean. About that time Laird and his second came over the ridge to + meet us. I saw them coming and handed Mark back the pistol. We + were looking at the bird when they came up. + + “Who did that?” asked Laird's second. + + “Sam,” I said. + + “How far off was it?” + + “Oh, about thirty yards.” + + “Can he do it again?” + + “Of course,” I said; “every time. He could do it twice that far.” + + Laud's second turned to his principal. + + “Laird,” he said, “you don't want to fight that man. It's just like + suicide. You'd better settle this thing, now.” + + So there was a settlement. Laird took back all he had said; Mark + said he really had nothing against Laird—the discussion had been + purely journalistic and did not need to be settled in blood. He + said that both he and Laird were probably the victims of their + friends. I remember one of the things Laird said when his second + told him he had better not fight. + + “Fight! H—l, no! I am not going to be murdered by that d—d + desperado.” + + Sam had sent another challenge to a man named Cutler, who had been + somehow mixed up with the muss and had written Sam an insulting + letter; but Cutler was out of town at the time, and before he got + back we had received word from Jerry Driscoll, foreman of the Grand + jury, that the law just passed, making a duel a penitentiary offense + for both principal and second, was to be strictly enforced, and + unless we got out of town in a limited number of hours we would be + the first examples to test the new law. +</pre> + <p> + We concluded to go, and when the stage left next morning for San Francisco + we were on the outside seat. Joe Goodman had returned by this time and + agreed to accompany us as far as Henness Pass. We were all in good spirits + and glad we were alive, so Joe did not stop when he got to Henness Pass, + but kept on. Now and then he would say, “Well, I had better be going + back pretty soon,” but he didn't go, and in the end he did not go + back at all, but went with us clear to San Francisco, and we had a royal + good time all the way. I never knew any series of duels to close so + happily. + </p> + <p> + So ended Mark Twain's career on the Comstock. He had come to it a weary + pilgrim, discouraged and unknown; he was leaving it with a new name and + fame—elate, triumphant, even if a fugitive. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0050" id="link2H_4_0050"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XLVI. GETTING SETTLED IN SAN FRANCISCO + </h2> + <p> + This was near the end of May, 1864. The intention of both Gillis and + Clemens was to return to the States; but once in San Francisco both + presently accepted places, Clemens as reporter and Gillis as compositor, + on the 'Morning Call'. + </p> + <p> + From 'Roughing It' the reader gathers that Mark Twain now entered into a + life of butterfly idleness on the strength of prospective riches to be + derived from the “half a trunkful of mining stocks,” and that + presently, when the mining bubble exploded, he was a pauper. But a good + many liberties have been taken with the history of this period. + Undoubtedly he expected opulent returns from his mining stocks, and was + disappointed, particularly in an investment in Hale and Norcross shares, + held too long for the large profit which could have been made by selling + at the proper time. + </p> + <p> + The fact is, he spent not more than a few days—a fortnight at most—in + “butterfly idleness,” at the Lick House before he was hard at + work on the 'Call', living modestly with Steve Gillis in the quietest + place they could find, never quiet enough, but as far as possible from + dogs and cats and chickens and pianos, which seemed determined to make the + mornings hideous, when a weary night reporter and compositor wanted to + rest. They went out socially, on occasion, arrayed in considerable + elegance; but their recreations were more likely to consist of private + midnight orgies, after the paper had gone to press—mild dissipations + in whatever they could find to eat at that hour, with a few glasses of + beer, and perhaps a game of billiards or pool in some all-night resort. A + printer by the name of Ward—“Little Ward,”—[L. P. + Ward; well known as an athlete in San Francisco. He lost his mind and + fatally shot himself in 1903.]—they called him—often went with + them for these refreshments. Ward and Gillis were both bantam game-cocks, + and sometimes would stir up trouble for the very joy of combat. Clemens + never cared for that sort of thing and discouraged it, but Ward and Gillis + were for war. “They never assisted each other. If one had offered to + assist the other against some overgrown person, it would have been an + affront, and a battle would have followed between that pair of little + friends.”—[S. L. C., 1906.]—Steve Gillis in particular, + was fond of incidental encounters, a characteristic which would prove an + important factor somewhat later in shaping Mark Twain's career. Of course, + the more strenuous nights were not frequent. Their home-going was usually + tame enough and they were glad enough to get there. + </p> + <p> + Clemens, however, was never quite ready for sleep. Then, as ever, he would + prop himself up in bed, light his pipe, and lose himself in English or + French history until sleep conquered. His room-mate did not approve of + this habit; it interfered with his own rest, and with his fiendish + tendency to mischief he found reprisal in his own fashion. Knowing his + companion's highly organized nervous system he devised means of torture + which would induce him to put out the light. Once he tied a nail to a + string; an arrangement which he kept on the floor behind the bed. + Pretending to be asleep, he would hold the end of the string, and lift it + gently up and down, making a slight ticking sound on the floor, maddening + to a nervous man. Clemens would listen a moment and say: + </p> + <p> + “What in the nation is that noise” + </p> + <p> + Gillis's pretended sleep and the ticking would continue. + </p> + <p> + Clemens would sit up in bed, fling aside his book, and swear violently. + </p> + <p> + “Steve, what is that d—d noise?” he would say. + </p> + <p> + Steve would pretend to rouse sleepily. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter, Sam? What noise? Oh, I guess that is one of + those death-ticks; they don't like the light. Maybe it will stop in a + minute.” + </p> + <p> + It usually did stop about that time, and the reading would be apt to + continue. But no sooner was there stillness than it began again—tick, + tick, tick. With a wild explosion of blasphemy, the book would go across + the floor and the light would disappear. Sometimes, when he couldn't + sleep, he would dress and walk out in the street for an hour, while the + cruel Steve slept like the criminal that he was. + </p> + <p> + At last, one night, he overdid the thing and was caught. His tortured + room-mate at first reviled him, then threatened to kill him, finally put + him to shame. It was curious, but they always loved each other, those two; + there was never anything resembling an estrangement, and to his last days + Mark Twain never could speak of Steve Gillis without tenderness. + </p> + <p> + They moved a great many times in San Francisco. Their most satisfactory + residence was on a bluff on California Street. Their windows looked down + on a lot of Chinese houses—“tin-can houses,” they were + called—small wooden shanties covered with beaten-out cans. Steve and + Mark would look down on these houses, waiting until all the Chinamen were + inside; then one of them would grab an empty beer-bottle, throw it down on + those tin can roofs, and dodge behind the blinds. The Chinamen would swarm + out and look up at the row of houses on the edge of the bluff, shake their + fists, and pour out Chinese vituperation. By and by, when they had retired + and everything was quiet again, their tormentors would throw another + bottle. This was their Sunday amusement. + </p> + <p> + At a place on Minna Street they lived with a private family. At first + Clemens was delighted. + </p> + <p> + “Just look at it, Steve,” he said. “What a nice, quiet + place. Not a thing to disturb us.” + </p> + <p> + But next morning a dog began to howl. Gillis woke this time, to find his + room-mate standing in the door that opened out into a back garden, holding + a big revolver, his hand shaking with cold and excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Came here, Steve,” he said. “Come here and kill him. + I'm so chilled through I can't get a bead on him.” + </p> + <p> + “Sam,” said Steve, “don't shoot him. Just swear at him. + You can easily kill him at that range with your profanity.” + </p> + <p> + Steve Gillis declares that Mark Twain then let go such a scorching, + singeing blast that the brute's owner sold him next day for a Mexican + hairless dog. + </p> + <p> + We gather that they moved, on an average, about once a month. A home + letter of September 25, 1864, says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We have been here only four months, yet we have changed our lodging + five times. We are very comfortably fixed where we are now and have + no fault to find with the rooms or the people. We are the only + lodgers-in a well-to-do private family.... But I need change + and must move again. +</pre> + <p> + This was the Minna Street place—the place of the dog. In the same + letter he mentions having made a new arrangement with the Call, by which + he is to receive twenty-five dollars a week, with no more night-work; he + says further that he has closed with the Californian for weekly articles + at twelve dollars each. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0051" id="link2H_4_0051"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XLVII. BOHEMIAN DAYS + </h2> + <p> + Mark Twain's position on the 'Call' was uncongenial from the start. San + Francisco was a larger city than Virginia; the work there was necessarily + more impersonal, more a routine of news-gathering and drudgery. He once + set down his own memories of it: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + At nine in the morning I had to be at the police court for an hour + and make a brief history of the squabbles of the night before. They + were usually between Irishmen and Irishmen, and Chinamen and + Chinamen, with now and then a squabble between the two races, for a + change. + + During the rest of the day we raked the town from end to end, + gathering such material as we might, wherewith to fill our required + columns; and if there were no fires to report, we started some. At + night we visited the six theaters, one after the other, seven nights + in the week. We remained in each of those places five minutes, got + the merest passing glimpse of play and opera, and with that for a + text we “wrote up” those plays and operas, as the phrase goes, + torturing our souls every night in the effort to find something to + say about those performances which we had not said a couple of + hundred times before. + + It was fearful drudgery-soulless drudgery—and almost destitute of + interest. It was an awful slavery for a lazy man. +</pre> + <p> + On the Enterprise he had been free, with a liberty that amounted to + license. He could write what he wished, and was personally responsible to + the readers. On the Call he was simply a part of a news-machine; + restricted by a policy, the whole a part of a still greater machine—politics. + Once he saw some butchers set their dogs on an unoffending Chinaman, a + policeman looking on with amused interest. He wrote an indignant article + criticizing the city government and raking the police. In Virginia City + this would have been a welcome delight; in San Francisco it did not + appear. + </p> + <p> + At another time he found a policeman asleep on his beat. Going to a + near-by vegetable stall he borrowed a large cabbage-leaf, came back and + stood over the sleeper, gently fanning him. It would be wasted effort to + make an item of this incident; but he could publish it in his own fashion. + He stood there fanning the sleeping official until a large crowd + collected. When he thought it was large enough he went away. Next day the + joke was all over the city. + </p> + <p> + Only one of the several severe articles he wrote criticizing officials and + institutions seems to have appeared—an attack on an undertaker whose + establishment formed a branch of the coroner's office. The management of + this place one day refused information to a Call reporter, and the next + morning its proprietor was terrified by a scathing denunciation of his + firm. It began, “Those body-snatchers” and continued through + half a column of such scorching strictures as only Mark Twain could + devise. The Call's policy of suppression evidently did not include + criticisms of deputy coroners. + </p> + <p> + Such liberty, however, was too rare for Mark Twain, and he lost interest. + He confessed afterward that he became indifferent and lazy, and that + George E. Barnes, one of the publishers of the Call, at last allowed him + an assistant. He selected from the counting-room a big, hulking youth by + the name of McGlooral, with the acquired prefix of “Smiggy.” + Clemens had taken a fancy to Smiggy McGlooral—on account of his name + and size perhaps—and Smiggy, devoted to his patron, worked like a + slave gathering news nights—daytimes, too, if necessary—all of + which was demoralizing to a man who had small appetite for his place + anyway. It was only a question of time when Smiggy alone would be + sufficient for the job. + </p> + <p> + There were other and pleasanter things in San Francisco. The personal and + literary associations were worth while. At his right hand in the Call + office sat Frank Soule—a gentle spirit—a graceful versifier + who believed himself a poet. Mark Twain deferred to Frank Soule in those + days. He thought his verses exquisite in their workmanship; a word of + praise from Soule gave him happiness. In a luxurious office up-stairs was + another congenial spirit—a gifted, handsome fellow of twenty-four, + who was secretary of the Mint, and who presently became editor of a new + literary weekly, the Californian, which Charles Henry Webb had founded. + This young man's name was Francis Bret Harte, originally from Albany, + later a miner and school-teacher on the Stanislaus, still later a + compositor, finally a contributor, on the Golden Era. His fame scarcely + reached beyond San Francisco as yet; but among the little coterie of + writing folk that clustered about the Era office his rank was high. Mark + Twain fraternized with Bret Harte and the Era group generally. He felt + that he had reached the land—or at least the borderland—of + Bohemia, that Ultima Thule of every young literary dream. + </p> + <p> + San Francisco did, in fact, have a very definite literary atmosphere and a + literature of its own. Its coterie of writers had drifted from here and + there, but they had merged themselves into a California body-poetic, quite + as individual as that of Cambridge, even if less famous, less fortunate in + emoluments than the Boston group. Joseph E. Lawrence, familiarly known as + “Joe” Lawrence, was editor of the Golden Era,—[The + Golden Era, California's first literary publication, was founded by Rollin + M. Daggett and J. McDonough Foard in 1852.]—and his kindness and + hospitality were accounted sufficient rewards even when his pecuniary + acknowledgments were modest enough. He had a handsome office, and the + literati, local and visiting, used to gather there. Names that would be + well known later were included in that little band. Joaquin Miller recalls + from an old diary, kept by him then, having seen Adah Isaacs Menken, + Prentice Mulford, Bret Harte, Charles Warren Stoddard, Fitzhugh Ludlow, + Mark Twain, Orpheus C. Kerr, Artemus Ward, Gilbert Densmore, W. S. + Kendall, and Mrs. Hitchcock assembled there at one time. The Era office + would seem to have been a sort of Mount Olympus, or Parnassus, perhaps; + for these were mainly poets, who had scarcely yet attained to the dignity + of gods. Miller was hardly more than a youth then, and this grand + assemblage impressed him, as did the imposing appointments of the place. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The Era rooms were elegant—[he says]—the most grandly carpeted + and most gorgeously furnished that I have ever seen. Even now in my + memory they seem to have been simply palatial. I have seen the + world well since then—all of its splendors worth seeing—yet those + carpeted parlors, with Joe Lawrence and his brilliant satellites, + outshine all things else, as I turn to look back. +</pre> + <p> + More than any other city west of the Alleghanies, San Francisco has always + been a literary center; and certainly that was a remarkable group to be + out there under the sunset, dropped down there behind the Sierras, which + the transcontinental railway would not climb yet, for several years. They + were a happy-hearted, aspiring lot, and they got as much as five dollars + sometimes for an Era article, and were as proud of it as if it had been a + great deal more. They felt that they were creating literature, as they + were, in fact; a new school of American letters mustered there. + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain and Bret Harte were distinctive features of this group. They + were already recognized by their associates as belonging in a class by + themselves, though as yet neither had done any of the work for which he + would be remembered later. They were a good deal together, and it was when + Harte was made editor of the Californian that Mark Twain was put on the + weekly staff at the then unexampled twelve-dollar rate. The Californian + made larger pretensions than the Era, and perhaps had a heavier financial + backing. With Mark Twain on the staff and Bret Harte in the chair, himself + a frequent contributor, it easily ranked as first of San Francisco + periodicals. A number of the sketches collected by Webb later, in Mark + Twain's first little volume, the Celebrated Jumping Frog, Etc., appeared + in the Era or Californian in 1864 and 1865. They were smart, bright, + direct, not always refined, but probably the best humor of the day. Some + of them are still preserved in this volume of sketches. They are + interesting in what they promise, rather than in what they present, though + some of them are still delightful enough. “The Killing of Julius + Caesar Localized” is an excellent forerunner of his burlesque report + of a gladiatorial combat in The Innocents Abroad. The Answers to + Correspondents, with his vigorous admonition of the statistical moralist, + could hardly have been better done at any later period. The Jumping Frog + itself was not originally of this harvest. It has a history of its own, as + we shall see a little further along. + </p> + <p> + The reportorial arrangement was of brief duration. Even the great San + Francisco earthquake of that day did not awaken in Mark Twain any + permanent enthusiasm for the drudgery of the 'Call'. He had lost interest, + and when Mark Twain lost interest in a subject or an undertaking that + subject or that undertaking were better dead, so far as he was concerned. + His conclusion of service with the Call was certain, and he wondered daily + why it was delayed so long. The connection had become equally + unsatisfactory to proprietor and employee. They had a heart-to-heart talk + presently, with the result that Mark Twain was free. He used to claim, in + after-years, with his usual tendency to confess the worst of himself, that + he was discharged, and the incident has been variously told. George Barnes + himself has declared that Clemens resigned with great willingness. It is + very likely that the paragraph at the end of Chapter LVIII in 'Roughing + It' presents the situation with fair accuracy, though, as always, the + author makes it as unpleasant for himself as possible: + </p> + <p> + “At last one of the proprietors took me aside, with a charity I + still remember with considerable respect, and gave me an opportunity to + resign my berth, and so save myself the disgrace of a dismissal.” + </p> + <p> + As an extreme contrast with the supposititious “butterfly idleness” + of his beginning in San Francisco, and for no other discoverable reason, + he doubtless thought it necessary, in the next chapter of that book, to + depict himself as having reached the depths of hard luck, debt, and + poverty. + </p> + <p> + “I became an adept at slinking,” he says. “I slunk from + back street to back street.... I slunk to my bed. I had pawned everything + but the clothes I had on.” + </p> + <p> + This is pure fiction. That he occasionally found himself short of funds is + likely enough—a literary life invites that sort of thing—but + that he ever clung to a single “silver ten-cent piece,” as he + tells us, and became the familiar of mendicancy, was a condition supplied + altogether by his later imagination to satisfy what he must have regarded + as an artistic need. Almost immediately following his separation from the + 'Call' he arranged with Goodman to write a daily letter for the + Enterprise, reporting San Francisco matters after his own notion with a + free hand. His payment for this work was thirty dollars a week, and he had + an additional return from his literary sketches. The arrangement was an + improvement both as to labor and income. + </p> + <p> + Real affluence appeared on the horizon just then, in the form of a liberal + offer for the Tennessee land. But alas! it was from a wine-grower who + wished to turn the tract into great vineyards, and Orion had a prohibition + seizure at the moment, so the trade was not made. Orion further argued + that the prospective purchaser would necessarily be obliged to import + horticultural labor from Europe, and that those people might be homesick, + badly treated, and consequently unhappy in those far eastern Tennessee + mountains. Such was Orion's way. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0052" id="link2H_4_0052"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XLVIII. THE REFUGE OF THE HILLS + </h2> + <p> + Those who remember Mark Twain's Enterprise letters (they are no longer + obtainable)—[Many of these are indeed now obtainable by a simple Web + search. D.W.]—declare them to have been the greatest series of daily + philippics ever written. However this may be, it is certain that they made + a stir. Goodman permitted him to say absolutely what he pleased upon any + subject. San Francisco was fairly weltering in corruption, official and + private. He assailed whatever came first to hand with all the fierceness + of a flaming indignation long restrained. + </p> + <p> + Quite naturally he attacked the police, and with such ferocity and + penetration that as soon as copies of the Enterprise came from Virginia + the City Hall began to boil and smoke and threaten trouble. Martin G. + Burke, then chief of police, entered libel suit against the Enterprise, + prodigiously advertising that paper, copies of which were snatched as soon + as the stage brought them. + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain really let himself go then. He wrote a letter that on the + outside was marked, “Be sure and let Joe see this before it goes in.” + He even doubted himself whether Goodman would dare to print it, after + reading. It was a letter describing the city's corrupt morals under the + existing police government. It began, “The air is full of lechery, + and rumors of lechery,” and continued in a strain which made even + the Enterprise printers aghast. + </p> + <p> + “You can never afford to publish that,” the foreman said to, + Goodman. + </p> + <p> + “Let it all go in, every word,” Goodman answered. “If + Mark can stand it, I can!” + </p> + <p> + It seemed unfortunate (at the time) that Steve Gillis should select this + particular moment to stir up trouble that would involve both himself and + Clemens with the very officials which the latter had undertaken to punish. + Passing a saloon one night alone, Gillis heard an altercation going on + inside, and very naturally stepped in to enjoy it. Including the + barkeeper, there were three against two. Steve ranged himself on the + weaker side, and selected the barkeeper, a big bruiser, who, when the + fight was over, was ready for the hospital. It turned out that he was one + of Chief Burke's minions, and Gillis was presently indicted on a charge of + assault with intent to kill. He knew some of the officials in a friendly + way, and was advised to give a straw bond and go into temporary + retirement. Clemens, of course, went his bail, and Steve set out for + Virginia City, until the storm blew over. + </p> + <p> + This was Burke's opportunity. When the case was called and Gillis did not + appear, Burke promptly instituted an action against his bondsman, with an + execution against his loose property. The watch that had been given him as + Governor of the Third House came near being thus sacrificed in the cause + of friendship, and was only saved by skilful manipulation. + </p> + <p> + Now, it was down in the chain of circumstances that Steve Gillis's + brother, James N. Gillis, a gentle-hearted hermit, a pocket-miner of the + halcyon Tuolumne district—the Truthful James of Bret Harte—happened + to be in San Francisco at this time, and invited Clemens to return with + him to the far seclusion of his cabin on Jackass Hill. In that peaceful + retreat were always rest and refreshment for the wayfarer, and more than + one weary writer besides Bret Harte had found shelter there. James Gillis + himself had fine literary instincts, but he remained a pocket-miner + because he loved that quiet pursuit of gold, the Arcadian life, the + companionship of his books, the occasional Bohemian pilgrim who found + refuge in his retreat. It is said that the sick were made well, and the + well made better, in Jim Gillis's cabin on the hilltop, where the air was + nectar and the stillness like enchantment. One could mine there if he + wished to do so; Jim would always furnish him a promising claim, and teach + him the art of following the little fan-like drift of gold specks to the + nested deposit of nuggets somewhere up the hillside. He regularly shared + his cabin with one Dick Stoker (Dick Baker, of 'Roughing It'), another + genial soul who long ago had retired from the world to this forgotten + land, also with Dick's cat, Tom Quartz; but there was always room for + guests. + </p> + <p> + In 'Roughing It', and in a later story, “The Californian's Tale,” + Mark Twain has made us acquainted with the verdant solitude of the + Tuolumne hills, that dreamy, delicious paradise where once a vast + population had gathered when placer-mining had been in its bloom, a dozen + years before. The human swarm had scattered when the washings failed to + pay, leaving only a quiet emptiness and the few pocket-miners along the + Stanislaus and among the hills. Vast areas of that section present a + strange appearance to-day. Long stretches there are, crowded and jammed + and drifted with ghostly white stones that stand up like fossils of a + prehistoric life—the earth deposit which once covered them entirely + washed away, every particle of it removed by the greedy hordes, leaving + only this vast bleaching drift, literally the “picked bones of the + land.” At one place stands Columbia, regarded once as a rival to + Sacramento, a possible State capital—a few tumbling shanties now—and + a ruined church. + </p> + <p> + It was the 4th of December, 1864, when Mark Twain arrived at Jim Gillis's + cabin. He found it a humble habitation made of logs and slabs, partly + sheltered by a great live-oak tree, surrounded by a stretch of grass. It + had not much in the way of pretentious furniture, but there was a large + fireplace, and a library which included the standard authors. A younger + Gillis boy, William, was there at this time, so that the family numbered + five in all, including Tom Quartz, the cat. On rainy days they would + gather about the big, open fire and Jim Gillis, with his back to the + warmth, would relate diverting yarns, creations of his own, turned out hot + from the anvil, forged as he went along. He had a startling imagination, + and he had fostered it in that secluded place. His stories usually + consisted of wonderful adventures of his companion, Dick Stoker, portrayed + with humor and that serene and vagrant fancy which builds as it goes, + careless as to whither it is proceeding and whether the story shall end + well or ill, soon or late, if ever. He always pretended that these + extravagant tales of Stoker were strictly true; and Stoker—“forty-six + and gray as a rat”—earnest, thoughtful, and tranquilly serene, + would smoke and look into the fire and listen to those astonishing things + of himself, smiling a little now and then but saying never a word. What + did it matter to him? He had no world outside of the cabin and the hills, + no affairs; he would live and die there; his affairs all had ended long + ago. A number of the stories used in Mark Twain's books were first told by + Jim Gillis, standing with his hands crossed behind him, back to the fire, + in the cabin on jackass Hill. The story of Dick Baker's cat was one of + these; the jaybird and Acorn story of 'A Tramp Abroad' was another; also + the story of the “Burning Shame,” and there are others. Mark + Twain had little to add to these stories; in fact, he never could get them + to sound as well, he said, as when Jim Gillis had told them. + </p> + <p> + James Gillis's imagination sometimes led him into difficulties. Once a + feeble old squaw came along selling some fruit that looked like green + plums. Stoker, who knew the fruit well enough, carelessly ventured the + remark that it might be all right, but he had never heard of anybody + eating it, which set Gillis off into eloquent praises of its delights, all + of which he knew to be purely imaginary; whereupon Stoker told him if he + liked the fruit so well, to buy some of it. There was no escape after + that; Jim had to buy some of those plums, whose acid was of the + hair-lifting aqua-fortis variety, and all the rest of the day he stewed + them, adding sugar, trying to make them palatable, tasting them now and + then, boasting meanwhile of their nectar-like deliciousness. He gave the + others a taste by and by—a withering, corroding sup—and they + derided him and rode him down. But Jim never weakened. He ate that fearful + brew, and though for days his mouth was like fire he still referred to the + luscious health-giving joys of the “Californian plums.” + </p> + <p> + Jackass Hill was not altogether a solitude; here and there were neighbors. + Another pocket-miner; named Carrington, had a cabin not far away, and a + mile or two distant lived an old couple with a pair of pretty daughters, + so plump and trim and innocent, that they were called the “Chapparal + Quails.” Young men from far and near paid court to them, and on + Sunday afternoons so many horses would be tied to their front fence as to + suggest an afternoon service there. Young “Billy” Gillis knew + them, and one Sunday morning took his brother's friend, Sam Clemens, over + for a call. They went early, with forethought, and promptly took the girls + for a walk. They took a long walk, and went wandering over the hills, + toward Sandy Bar and the Stanislaus—through that reposeful land + which Bret Harte would one day light with idyllic romance—and toward + evening found themselves a long way from home. They must return by the + nearest way to arrive before dark. One of the young ladies suggested a + short cut through the Chemisal, and they started. But they were lost, + presently, and it was late, very late, when at last they reached the + ranch. The mother of the “Quails” was sitting up for them, and + she had something to say. She let go a perfect storm of general + denunciation, then narrowed the attack to Samuel Clemens as the oldest of + the party. He remained mildly serene. + </p> + <p> + “It wasn't my fault,” he ventured at last; “it was Billy + Gillis's fault.” + </p> + <p> + “No such thing. You know better. Mr. Gillis has been here often. It + was you.” + </p> + <p> + “But do you realize, ma'am, how tired and hungry we are? Haven't you + got a bite for us to eat?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, not a bite—for such as you.” + </p> + <p> + The offender's eyes, wandering about the room, spied something in a + corner. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't that a guitar over there?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, it is; what of it?” + </p> + <p> + The culprit walked over, and taking it up, tuned the strings a little and + struck the chords. Then he began to sing. He began very softly and sang + “Fly Away, Pretty Moth,” then “Araby's Daughter.” + He could sing very well in those days, following with the simpler chords. + Perhaps the mother “Quail” had known those songs herself back + in the States, for her manner grew kindlier, almost with the first notes. + When he had finished she was the first to ask him to go on. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you are just like all young folks,” she said. + “I was young myself once. While you sing I'll get some supper.” + </p> + <p> + She left the door to the kitchen open so that she could hear, and cooked + whatever she could find for the belated party. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0053" id="link2H_4_0053"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XLIX. THE JUMPING FROG + </h2> + <p> + It was the rainy season, the winter of 1864 and 1865, but there were many + pleasant days, when they could go pocket-hunting, and Samuel Clemens soon + added a knowledge of this fascinating science to his other acquirements. + Sometimes he worked with Dick Stoker, sometimes with one of the Gillis + boys. He did not make his fortune at pocket-mining; he only laid its + corner-stone. In the old note-book he kept of that sojourn we find that, + with Jim Gillis, he made a trip over into Calaveras County soon after + Christmas and remained there until after New Year's, probably prospecting; + and he records that on New Year's night, at Vallecito, he saw a + magnificent lunar rainbow in a very light, drizzling rain. A lunax rainbow + is one of the things people seldom see. He thought it an omen of + good-fortune. + </p> + <p> + They returned to the cabin on the hill; but later in the month, on the + they crossed over into Calaveras again, and began pocket-hunting not far + from Angel's Camp. The note-book records that the bill of fare at the Camp + hotel consisted wholly of beans and something which bore the name of + coffee; also that the rains were frequent and heavy. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + January 27. Same old diet—same old weather—went out to the + pocket-claim—had to rush back. +</pre> + <p> + They had what they believed to be a good claim. Jim Gillis declared the + indications promising, and if they could only have good weather to work + it, they were sure of rich returns. For himself, he would have been + willing to work, rain or shine. Clemens, however, had different views on + the subject. His part was carrying water for washing out the pans of dirt, + and carrying pails of water through the cold rain and mud was not very + fascinating work. Dick Stoker came over before long to help. Things went a + little better then; but most of their days were spent in the bar-room of + the dilapidated tavern at Angel's Camp, enjoying the company of a former + Illinois River pilot, Ben Coon,—[This name has been variously given + as “Ros Coon,” “Coon Drayton,” etc. It is given + here as set down in Mark Twain's notes, made on the spot. Coon was not (as + has been stated) the proprietor of the hotel (which was kept by a + Frenchman), but a frequenter of it.]—a solemn, fat-witted person, + who dozed by the stove, or old slow, endless stories, without point or + application. Listeners were a boon to him, for few came and not many would + stay. To Mark Twain and Jim Gillis, however, Ben Coon was a delight. It + was soothing and comfortable to listen to his endless narratives, told in + that solemn way, with no suspicion of humor. Even when his yarns had + point, he did not recognize it. One dreary afternoon, in his slow, + monotonous fashion, he told them about a frog—a frog that had + belonged to a man named Coleman, who trained it to jump, but that failed + to win a wager because the owner of a rival frog had surreptitiously + loaded the trained jumper with shot. The story had circulated among the + camps, and a well-known journalist, named Samuel Seabough, had already + made a squib of it, but neither Clemens nor Gillis had ever happened to + hear it before. They thought the tale in itself amusing, and the “spectacle + of a man drifting serenely along through such a queer yarn without ever + smiling was exquisitely absurd.” When Coon had talked himself out, + his hearers played billiards on the frowsy table, and now and then one + would remark to the other: + </p> + <p> + “I don't see no p'ints about that frog that's any better'n any other + frog,” and perhaps the other would answer: + </p> + <p> + “I ain't got no frog, but if I had a frog I'd bet you.” + </p> + <p> + Out on the claim, between pails of water, Clemens, as he watched Jim + Gillis or Dick Stoker “washing,” would be apt to say, “I + don't see no p'ints about that pan o' dirt that's any better'n any other + pan o' dirt,” and so they kept it up. + </p> + <p> + Then the rain would come again and interfere with their work. One + afternoon, when Clemens and Gillis were following certain tiny-sprayed + specks of gold that were leading them to pocket—somewhere up the + long slope, the chill downpour set in. Gillis, as usual, was washing, and + Clemens carrying water. The “color” was getting better with + every pan, and Jim Gillis believed that now, after their long waiting, + they were to be rewarded. Possessed with the miner's passion, he would + have gone on washing and climbing toward the precious pocket, regardless + of everything. Clemens, however, shivering and disgusted, swore that each + pail of water was his last. His teeth were chattering and he was wet + through. Finally he said, in his deliberate way: + </p> + <p> + “Jim, I won't carry any more water. This work is too disagreeable.” + </p> + <p> + Gillis had just taken out a panful of dirt. + </p> + <p> + “Bring one more pail, Sam,” he pleaded. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, hell, Jim, I won't do it; I'm freezing!” + </p> + <p> + “Just one more pail, Sam,” he pleaded. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, not a drop, not if I knew there were a million dollars in + that pan.” + </p> + <p> + Gillis tore a page out of his note-book, and hastily posted a thirty-day + claim notice by the pan of dirt, and they set out for Angel's Camp. It + kept on raining and storming, and they did not go back. A few days later a + letter from Steve Gillis made Clemens decide to return to San Francisco. + With Jim Gillis and Dick Stoker he left Angel's and walked across the + mountains to Jackass Hill in the snow-storm—“the first I ever + saw in California,” he says in his notes. + </p> + <p> + In the mean time the rain had washed away the top of the pan of earth they + had left standing on the hillside, and exposed a handful of nuggets-pure + gold. Two strangers, Austrians, had come along and, observing it, had sat + down to wait until the thirty-day claim notice posted by Jim Gillis should + expire. They did not mind the rain—not with all that gold in sight—and + the minute the thirty days were up they followed the lead a few pans + farther and took out—some say ten, some say twenty, thousand + dollars. In either case it was a good pocket. Mark Twain missed it by one + pail of water. Still, it is just as well, perhaps, when one remembers that + vaster nugget of Angel's Camp—the Jumping Frog. Jim Gillis always + declared, “If Sam had got that pocket he would have remained a + pocket-miner to the end of his days, like me.” + </p> + <p> + In Mark Twain's old note-book occurs a memorandum of the frog story—a + mere casual entry of its main features: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Coleman with his jumping frog—bet stranger $50—stranger had no + frog, and C. got him one:—in the mean time stranger filled C.'s + frog full of shot and he couldn't jump. The stranger's frog won. +</pre> + <p> + It seemed unimportant enough, no doubt, at the time; but it was the + nucleus around which was built a surpassing fame. The hills along the + Stanislaus have turned out some wonderful nuggets in their time, but no + other of such size as that. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0054" id="link2H_4_0054"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + L. BACK TO THE TUMULT + </h2> + <h3> + FROM the note-book: + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + February 25. Arrived in Stockton 5 p.m. Home again home again at + the Occidental Hotel, San Francisco—find letters from Artemus Ward + asking me to write a sketch for his new book of Nevada Territory + Travels which is soon to come out. Too late—ought to have got the + letters three months ago. They are dated early in November. +</pre> + <p> + He was sorry not to oblige Ward, sorry also not to have representation in + his book. He wrote explaining the circumstance, and telling the story of + his absence. Steve Gillis, meantime, had returned to San Francisco, and + settled his difficulties there. The friends again took up residence + together. + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain resumed his daily letters to the Enterprise, without further + annoyance from official sources. Perhaps there was a temporary truce in + that direction, though he continued to attack various abuses—civic, + private, and artistic—becoming a sort of general censor, + establishing for himself the title of the “Moralist of the Main.” + The letters were reprinted in San Francisco and widely read. Now and then + some one had the temerity to answer them, but most of his victims + maintained a discreet silence. In one of these letters he told of the + Mexican oyster, a rather tough, unsatisfactory article of diet, which + could not stand criticism, and presently disappeared from the market. It + was a mistake, however, for him to attack an Alta journalist by the name + of Evans. Evans was a poet, and once composed an elegy with a refrain + which ended: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Gone, gone, gone + —Gone to his endeavor; + Gone, gone, gone, + Forever and forever. +</pre> + <p> + In the Enterprise letter following its publication Mark Twain referred to + this poem. He parodied the refrain and added, “If there is any + criticism to make on it I should say there is a little too much 'gone' and + not enough 'forever.'” + </p> + <p> + It was a more or less pointless witticism, but it had a humorous quotable + flavor, and it made Evans mad. In a squib in the Alta he retaliated: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mark Twain has killed the Mexican oyster. We only regret that the + act was not inspired by a worthier motive. Mark Twain's sole reason + for attacking the Mexican oyster was because the restaurant that + sold them refused him credit. +</pre> + <p> + A deadly thrust like that could not be parried in print. To deny or + recriminate would be to appear ridiculous. One could only sweat and + breathe vengeance. + </p> + <p> + “Joe,” he said to Goodman, who had come over for a visit, + “my one object in life now is to make enough money to stand trial + and then go and murder Evans.” + </p> + <p> + He wrote verses himself sometimes, and lightened his Enterprise letters + with jingles. One of these concerned Tom Maguire, the autocrat manager of + San Francisco theaters. It details Maguire's assault on one of his actors. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Tom Maguire, + Roused to ire, + Lighted on McDougal; + Tore his coat, + Clutched his throat, + And split him in the bugle. + + For shame! oh, fie! + Maguire, why + Will you thus skyugle? + Why curse and swear, + And rip and tear + The innocent McDougal? + + Of bones bereft, + Almost, you've left + Vestvali, gentle Jew gal; + And now you've smashed + And almost hashed + The form of poor McDougall +</pre> + <p> + Goodman remembers that Clemens and Gillis were together again on + California Street at this time, and of hearing them sing, “The + Doleful Ballad of the Rejected Lover,” another of Mark Twain's + compositions. It was a wild, blasphemous outburst, and the furious fervor + with which Mark and Steve delivered it, standing side by side and waving + their fists, did not render it less objectionable. Such memories as these + are set down here, for they exhibit a phase of that robust personality, + built of the same primeval material from which the world was created—built + of every variety of material, in fact, ever incorporated in a human being—equally + capable of writing unprintable coarseness and that rarest and most tender + of all characterizations, the 'Recollections of JOAN of ARC'. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0055" id="link2H_4_0055"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LI. THE CORNER-STONE + </h2> + <p> + Along with his Enterprise work, Clemens continued to write occasionally + for the Californian, but for some reason he did not offer the story of the + jumping frog. For one thing, he did not regard it highly as literary + material. He knew that he had enjoyed it himself, but the humor and + fashion of its telling seemed to him of too simple and mild a variety in + that day of boisterous incident and exaggerated form. By and by Artemus + Ward turned up in San Francisco, and one night Mark Twain told him his + experiences with Jim Gillis, and in Angel's Camp; also of Ben Coon and his + tale of the Calaveras frog. Ward was delighted. + </p> + <p> + “Write it,” he said. “There is still time to get it into + my volume of sketches. Send it to Carleton, my publisher in New York.”—[This + is in accordance with Mr. Clemens's recollection of the matter. The author + can find no positive evidence that Ward was on the Pacific coast again in + 1865. It seems likely, therefore, that the telling of the frog story and + his approval of it were accomplished by exchange of letters.]—Clemens + promised to do this, but delayed fulfilment somewhat, and by the time the + sketch reached Carleton, Ward's book was about ready for the press. It did + not seem worth while to Carleton to make any change of plans that would + include the frog story. The publisher handed it over to Henry Clapp, + editor of the Saturday Press, a perishing sheet, saying: “Here, + Clapp, here's something you can use in your paper.” Clapp took it + thankfully enough, we may believe. + </p> + <p> + “Jim Smiley and His Jumping Frog”—[This was the original + title.]—appeared in the Saturday Press of November 18, 1865, and was + immediately copied and quoted far and near. It brought the name of Mark + Twain across the mountains, bore it up and down the Atlantic coast, and + out over the prairies of the Middle West. Away from the Pacific slope only + a reader here and there had known the name before. Now every one who took + a newspaper was treated to the tale of the wonderful Calaveras frog, and + received a mental impress of the author's signature. The name Mark Twain + became hardly an institution, as yet, but it made a strong bid for + national acceptance. + </p> + <p> + As for its owner, he had no suspicion of these momentous happenings for a + considerable time. The telegraph did not carry such news in those days, + and it took a good while for the echo of his victory to travel to the + Coast. When at last a lagging word of it did arrive, it would seem to have + brought disappointment, rather than exaltation, to the author. Even + Artemus Ward's opinion of the story had not increased Mark Twain's regard + for it as literature. That it had struck the popular note meant, as he + believed, failure for his more highly regarded work. In a letter written + January 20, 1866, he says these things for himself: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I do not know what to write; my life is so uneventful. I wish I was + back there piloting up and down the river again. Verily, all is + vanity and little worth—save piloting. + + To think that, after writing many an article a man might be excused + for thinking tolerably good, those New York people should single out + a villainous backwoods sketch to compliment me on! “Jim Smiley and + His Jumping Frog”—a squib which would never have been written but + to please Artemus Ward, and then it reached New York too late to + appear in his book. + + But no matter. His book was a wretchedly poor one, generally + speaking, and it could be no credit to either of us to appear + between its covers. +</pre> + <p> + This paragraph is from the New York correspondence of the San Francisco + Alta: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Mark Twain's story in the Saturday Press of November 18th, called + 'Jim Smiley and His Jumping Frog,' has set all New York in a roar, + and he may be said to have made his mark. I have been asked fifty + times about it and its author, and the papers are copying it far and + near. It is voted the best thing of the day. Cannot the + 'Californian' afford to keep Mark all to itself? It should not let + him scintillate so widely without first being filtered through the + California press.” + + The New York publishing house of Carleton & Co. gave the sketch to + the Saturday Press when they found it was too late for the book. +</pre> + <p> + It is difficult to judge the jumping Frog story to-day. It has the + intrinsic fundamental value of one of AEsop's Fables.—[The + resemblance of the frog story to the early Greek tales must have been + noted by Prof. Henry Sidgwick, who synopsized it in Greek form and phrase + for his book, Greek Prose Composition. Through this originated the + impression that the story was of Athenian root. Mark Twain himself was + deceived, until in 1899, when he met Professor Sidgwick, who explained + that the Greek version was the translation and Mark Twain's the original; + that he had thought it unnecessary to give credit for a story so well + known. See The Jumping Frog, Harper & Bros., 1903, p. 64.]—It + contains a basic idea which is essentially ludicrous, and the quaint + simplicity of its telling is convincing and full of charm. It appeared in + print at a time when American humor was chaotic, the public taste + unformed. We had a vast appreciation for what was comic, with no great + number of opportunities for showing it. We were so ready to laugh that + when a real opportunity came along we improved it and kept on laughing and + repeating the cause of our merriment, directing the attention of our + friends to it. Whether the story of “Jim Smiley's Frog,” + offered for the first time today, would capture the public, and become the + initial block of a towering fame, is another matter. That the author + himself underrated it is certain. That the public, receiving it at what we + now term the psychological moment, may have overrated it is by no means + impossible. In any case, it does not matter now. The stone rejected by the + builder was made the corner-stone of his literary edifice. As such it is + immortal. + </p> + <p> + In the letter already quoted, Clemens speaks of both Bret Harte and + himself as having quit the 'Californian' in future expecting to write for + Eastern papers. He adds: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Though I am generally placed at the head of my breed of scribblers + in this part of the country, the place properly belongs to Bret + Harte, I think, though he denies it, along with the rest. He wants + me to club a lot of old sketches together with a lot of his, and + publish a book. I wouldn't do it, only he agrees to take all the + trouble. But I want to know whether we are going to make anything + out of it, first. However, he has written to a New York publisher, + and if we are offered a bargain that will pay for a month's labor we + will go to work and prepare the volume for the press. +</pre> + <p> + Nothing came of the proposed volume, or of other joint literary schemes + these two had then in mind. Neither of them would seem to have been + optimistic as to their future place in American literature; certainly in + their most exalted moments they could hardly have dreamed that within half + a dozen years they would be the head and front of a new school of letters—the + two most talked-of men in America. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0056" id="link2H_4_0056"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LII. A COMMISSION TO THE SANDWICH ISLANDS + </h2> + <p> + Whatever his first emotions concerning the success of “Jim Smiley's + Frog” may have been, the sudden astonishing leap of that batrachian + into American literature gave the author an added prestige at home as well + as in distant parts. Those about him were inclined to regard him, in some + degree at least, as a national literary figure and to pay tribute + accordingly. Special honors began to be shown to him. A fine new steamer, + the Ajax, built for the Sandwich Island trade, carried on its initial trip + a select party of guests of which he was invited to make one. He did not + go, and reproached himself sorrowfully afterward. + </p> + <p> + If the Ajax were back I would go quick, and throw up my correspondence. + She had fifty-two invited guests aboard—the cream of the town—gentlemen + and ladies, and a splendid brass band. I could not accept because there + would be no one to write my correspondence while I was gone. + </p> + <p> + In fact, the daily letter had grown monotonous. He was restless, and the + Ajax excursion, which he had been obliged to forego, made him still more + dissatisfied. An idea occurred to him: the sugar industry of the islands + was a matter of great commercial interest to California, while the life + and scenery there, picturesquely treated, would appeal to the general + reader. He was on excellent terms with James Anthony and Paul Morrill, of + the Sacramento Union; he proposed to them that they send him as their + special correspondent to report to their readers, in a series of letters, + life, trade, agriculture, and general aspect of the islands. To his vast + delight, they gave him the commission. He wrote home joyously now: + </p> + <p> + I am to remain there a month and ransack the islands, the cataracts and + volcanoes completely, and write twenty or thirty letters, for which they + pay as much money as I would get if I stayed at home. + </p> + <p> + He adds that on his return he expects to start straight across the + continent by way of the Columbia River, the Pend Oreille Lakes, through + Montana and down the Missouri River. “Only two hundred miles of land + travel from San Francisco to New Orleans.” + </p> + <p> + So it is: man proposes, while fate, undisturbed, spins serenely on. + </p> + <p> + He sailed by the Ajax on her next trip, March 7 (1866), beginning his + first sea voyage—a brand-new experience, during which he acquired + the names of the sails and parts of the ship, with considerable knowledge + of navigation, and of the islands he was to visit—whatever + information passengers and sailors could furnish. It was a happy, stormy + voyage altogether. In 'Roughing It' he has given us some account of it. + </p> + <p> + It was the 18th of March when he arrived at Honolulu, and his first + impression of that tranquil harbor remained with him always. In fact, his + whole visit there became one of those memory-pictures, full of golden + sunlight and peace, to be found somewhere in every human past. + </p> + <p> + The letters of introduction he had brought, and the reputation which had + preceded him, guaranteed him welcome and hospitality. Officials and + private citizens were alike ready to show him their pleasant land, and he + fairly reveled in its delicious air, its summer warmth, its soft repose. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Oh, islands there are on the face of the deep + Where the leaves never fade and the skies never weep, +</pre> + <p> + he quotes in his note-book, and adds: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Went with Mr. Damon to his cool, vine-shaded home; no careworn or + eager, anxious faces in this land of happy contentment. God, what a + contrast with California and the Washoe! +</pre> + <p> + And in another place: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + They live in the S. I.—no rush, no worry—merchant goes down to his + store like a gentleman at nine—goes home at four and thinks no more + of business till next day. D—n San F. style of wearing out life. +</pre> + <p> + He fitted in with the languorous island existence, but he had come for + business, and he lost not much time. He found there a number of friends + from Washoe, including the Rev. Mr. Rising, whose health had failed from + overwork. By their direction, and under official guidance, he set out on + Oahu, one of the several curious horses he has immortalized in print, and, + accompanied by a pleasant party of ladies and gentlemen, encircled the + island of that name, crossed it and recrossed it, visited its various + battle-fields, returning to Honolulu, lame, sore, sunburnt, but + triumphant. His letters home, better even than his Union correspondence, + reveal his personal interest and enthusiasms. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have got a lot of human bones which I took from one of these + battle-fields. I guess I will bring you some of them. I went with + the American Minister and took dinner this evening with the King's + Grand Chamberlain, who is related to the royal family, and though + darker than a mulatto he has an excellent English education, and in + manners is an accomplished gentleman. He is to call for me in the + morning; we will visit the King in the palace, After dinner they + called in the “singing girls,” and we had some beautiful music, sung + in the native tongue. +</pre> + <p> + It was his first association with royalty, and it was human that he should + air it a little. In the same letter he states: “I will sail in a day + or two on a tour of the other islands, to be gone two months.” + </p> + <p> + 'In Roughing It' he has given us a picture of his visits to the islands, + their plantations, their volcanoes, their natural and historic wonders. He + was an insatiable sight-seer then, and a persevering one. The very name of + a new point of interest filled him with an eager enthusiasm to be off. No + discomfort or risk or distance discouraged him. With a single daring + companion—a man who said he could find the way—he crossed the + burning floor of the mighty crater of Kilauea (then in almost constant + eruption), racing across the burning lava floor, jumping wide and + bottomless crevices, when a misstep would have meant death. + </p> + <p> + By and by Marlette shouted “Stop!” I never stopped quicker in + my life. I asked what the matter was. He said we were out of the path. He + said we must not try to go on until we found it again, for we were + surrounded with beds of rotten lava, through which we could easily break + and plunge down 1,000 feet. I thought Boo would answer for me, and was + about to say so, when Marlette partly proved his statement, crushing + through and disappearing to his arm-pits. + </p> + <p> + They made their way across at last, and stood the rest of the night gazing + down upon a spectacle of a crater in quivering action, a veritable lake of + fire. They had risked their lives for that scene, but it seemed worth + while. + </p> + <p> + His open-air life on the river, and the mining camps, had prepared Samuel + Clemens for adventurous hardships. He was thirty years old, with his full + account of mental and physical capital. His growth had been slow, but he + was entering now upon his golden age; he was fitted for conquest of + whatever sort, and he was beginning to realize his power. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0057" id="link2H_4_0057"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LIII. ANSON BURLINGAME AND THE “HORNET” DISASTER + </h2> + <p> + It was near the end of June when he returned to Honolulu from a tour of + all the islands, fairly worn out and prostrated with saddle boils. He + expected only to rest and be quiet for a season, but all unknown to him + startling and historic things were taking place in which he was to have a + part—events that would mark another forward stride in his career. + </p> + <p> + The Ajax had just come in, bringing his Excellency Anson Burlingame, then + returning to his post as minister to China; also General Van Valkenburg, + minister to Japan; Colonel Rumsey and Minister Burlingame's son, Edward,—[Edward + L. Burlingame, now for many years editor of Scribner's Magazine.]—then + a lively boy of eighteen. Young Burlingame had read “The Jumping + Frog,” and was enthusiastic about Mark Twain and his work. Learning + that he was in Honolulu, laid up at his hotel, the party sent word that + they would call on him next morning. + </p> + <p> + Clemens felt that he must not accept this honor, sick or well. He crawled + out of bed, dressed and shaved himself as quickly as possible, and drove + to the American minister's, where the party was staying. They had a + hilariously good time. When he returned to his hotel he sent them, by + request, whatever he had on hand of his work. General Van Valkenburg had + said to him: + </p> + <p> + “California is proud of Mark Twain, and some day the American people + will be, too, no doubt.” + </p> + <p> + There has seldom been a more accurate prophecy. + </p> + <p> + But a still greater event was imminent. On that very day (June 21, 1866) + there came word of the arrival at Sanpahoe, on the island of Hawaii, of an + open boat containing fifteen starving wretches, who on short, ten-day + rations had been buffeting a stormy sea for forty-three days! A vessel, + the Hornet, from New York, had taken fire and burned “on the line,” + and since early in May, on that meager sustenance, they had been battling + with hundreds of leagues of adverse billows, seeking for land. + </p> + <p> + A few days following the first report, eleven of the rescued men were + brought to Honolulu and placed in the hospital. Mark Twain recognized the + great news importance of the event. It would be a splendid beat if he + could interview the castaways and be the first to get their story to his + paper. There was no cable in those days; a vessel for San Francisco would + sail next morning. It was the opportunity of a lifetime, and he must not + miss it. Bedridden as he was, the undertaking seemed beyond his strength. + </p> + <p> + But just at this time the Burlingame party descended on him, and almost + before he knew it he was on the way to the hospital on a cot, escorted by + the heads of the joint legations of China and Japan. Once there, Anson + Burlingame, with his splendid human sympathy and handsome, courtly + presence, drew from those enfeebled castaways all the story of their long + privation and struggle, that had stretched across forty-three distempered + days and four thousand miles of sea. All that Mark Twain had to do was to + listen and make the notes. + </p> + <p> + He put in the night-writing against time. Next morning, just as the vessel + for the States was drifting away from her dock, a strong hand flung his + bulky envelope of manuscript aboard, and if the vessel arrived his great + beat was sure. It did arrive, and the three-column story on the front page + of the Sacramento Union, in its issue of July 19th, gave the public the + first detailed history of the terrible Hornet disaster and the rescue of + those starving men. Such a story occupied a wider place in the public + interest than it would in these crowded days. The telegraph carried it + everywhere, and it was featured as a sensation. + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain always adored the name and memory of Anson Burlingame. In his + letter home he tells of Burlingame's magnanimity in “throwing away + an invitation to dine with princes and foreign dignitaries” to help + him. “You know I appreciate that kind of thing,” he says; + which was a true statement, and in future years he never missed an + opportunity of paying an instalment on his debt of gratitude. It was + proper that he should do so, for the obligation was a far greater one than + that contracted in obtaining the tale of the Hornet disaster. It was the + debt which one owes to a man who, from the deep measure of his + understanding, gives encouragement and exactly needed and convincing + advice. Anson Burlingame said to Samuel Clemens: + </p> + <p> + “You have great ability; I believe you have genius. What you need + now is the refinement of association. Seek companionship among men of + superior intellect and character. Refine yourself and your work. Never + affiliate with inferiors; always climb.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens never forgot that advice. He did not always observe it, but he + rarely failed to realize its gospel. Burlingame urged him to travel. + </p> + <p> + “Come to Pekin next winter,” he said, “and visit me. + Make my house your home. I will give you letters and introduce you. You + will have facilities for acquiring information about China.” + </p> + <p> + It is not surprising then that Mark Twain never felt his debt to Anson + Burlingame entirely paid. Burlingame came more than once to the hotel, for + Clemens was really ill now, and they discussed plans for his future + betterment. + </p> + <p> + He promised, of course, to visit China, and when he was alone put in a + good deal of time planning a trip around the world which would include the + great capitals. When not otherwise employed he read; though there was only + one book in the hotel, a “blue and gold” edition of Dr. + Holmes's Songs in Many Keys, and this he soon knew almost by heart, from + title-page to finis. + </p> + <p> + He was soon up and about. No one could remain ill long in those happy + islands. Young Burlingame came, and suggested walks. Once, when Clemens + hesitated, the young man said: + </p> + <p> + “But there is a Scriptural command for you to go.” + </p> + <p> + “If you can quote one I'll obey it,” said Clemens. + </p> + <p> + “Very well. The Bible says, 'If any man require thee to walk a mile, + go with him, Twain.'” + </p> + <p> + The command was regarded as sufficient. Clemens quoted the witticism later + (in his first lecture), and it was often repeated in after-years, ascribed + to Warner, Ward, and a dozen others. Its origin was as here set down. + </p> + <p> + Under date of July 4 (1866), Mark Twain's Sandwich Island note-book says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Went to a ball 8.30 P.M.—danced till 12.30; stopped at General Van + Valkenburg's room and talked with him and Mr. Burlingame and Ed + Burlingame until 3 A.M. +</pre> + <p> + From which we may conclude that he had altogether recovered. A few days + later the legation party had sailed for China and Japan, and on the 19th + Clemens himself set out by a slow sailing-vessel to San Francisco. They + were becalmed and were twenty-five days making the voyage. Captain + Mitchell and others of the wrecked Hornet were aboard, and he put in a + good deal of time copying their diaries and preparing a magazine article + which, he believed, would prove his real entrance to the literary world. + </p> + <p> + The vessel lay almost perfectly still, day after day, and became a regular + playground at sea. Sundays they had services and Mark Twain led the choir. + </p> + <p> + “I hope they will have a better opinion of our music in heaven than + I have down here,” he says in his notes. “If they don't, a + thunderbolt will knock this vessel endways.” It is perhaps worthy of + mention that on the night of the 27th of July he records having seen + another “splendidly colored, lunar rainbow.” That he regarded + this as an indication of future good-fortune is not surprising, + considering the events of the previous year. + </p> + <p> + It was August 13th when he reached San Francisco, and the note-book entry + of that day says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Home again. No—not home again—in prison again, end all the wild + sense of freedom gone. The city seems so cramped and so dreary with + toil and care and business anxiety. God help me, I wish I were at + sea again! +</pre> + <p> + There were compensations, however. He went over to Sacramento, and was + abundantly welcomed. It was agreed that, in addition to the twenty dollars + allowed for each letter, a special bill should be made for the Hornet + report. + </p> + <p> + “How much do you think it ought to be, Mark?” James Anthony + asked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm a modest man; I don't want the whole Union office. Call it + $100 a column.” + </p> + <p> + There was a general laugh. The bill was made out at that figure, and he + took it to the business office for payment. + </p> + <p> + “The cashier didn't faint,” he wrote, many years later, + “but he came rather near it. He sent for the proprietors, and they + only laughed in their jolly fashion, and said it was a robbery, but 'no + matter, pay it. It's all right.' The best men that ever owned a newspaper.”—[“My + Debut as a Literary Person.”—Collected works.]—Though + inferior to the descriptive writing which a year later would give him a + world-wide fame, the Sandwich Island letters added greatly to his prestige + on the Pacific coast. They were convincing, informing; tersely—even + eloquently—descriptive, with a vein of humor adapted to their + audience. Yet to read them now, in the fine nonpareil type in which they + were set, is such a wearying task that one can only marvel at their + popularity. They were not brilliant literature, by our standards to-day. + Their humor is usually of a muscular kind, varied with grotesque + exaggerations; the literary quality is pretty attenuated. Here and there + are attempts at verse. He had a fashion in those days of combining two or + more poems with distracting, sometimes amusing, effect. Examples of these + dislocations occur in the Union letters; a single stanza will present the + general idea: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold, + + The turf with their bayonets turning, + And his cohorts were gleaming with purple and gold, + And our lanterns dimly burning. +</pre> + <p> + Only a trifling portion of the letters found their way into his Sandwich + Island chapters of 'Roughing It', five years later. They do, however, + reveal a sort of transition stage between the riotous florescence of the + Comstock and the mellowness of his later style. He was learning to see + things with better eyes, from a better point of view. It is not difficult + to believe that this literary change of heart was in no small measure due + to the influence of Anson Burlingame. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0058" id="link2H_4_0058"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VOLUME I, Part 2: 1866-1875 + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0059" id="link2H_4_0059"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LIV. THE LECTURER + </h2> + <p> + It was not easy to take up the daily struggle again, but it was necessary.—[Clemens + once declared he had been so blue at this period that one morning he put a + loaded pistol to his head, but found he lacked courage to pull the + trigger.]—Out of the ruck of possibilities (his brain always + thronged with plans) he constructed three or four resolves. The chief of + these was the trip around the world; but that lay months ahead, and in the + mean time ways and means must be provided. Another intention was to finish + the Hornet article, and forward it to Harper's Magazine—a purpose + carried immediately into effect. To his delight the article found + acceptance, and he looked forward to the day of its publication as the + beginning of a real career. He intended to follow it up with a series on + the islands, which in due time might result in a book and an income. He + had gone so far as to experiment with a dedication for the book—an + inscription to his mother, modified later for use in 'The Innocents + Abroad'. A third plan of action was to take advantage of the popularity of + the Hawaiian letters, and deliver a lecture on the same subject. But this + was a fearsome prospect—he trembled when he thought of it. As + Governor of the Third House he had been extravagantly received and + applauded, but in that case the position of public entertainer had been + thrust upon him. To come forward now, offering himself in the same + capacity, was a different matter. He believed he could entertain, but he + lacked the courage to declare himself; besides, it meant a risk of his + slender capital. He confided his situation to Col. John McComb, of the + Alta California, and was startled by McComb's vigorous endorsement. + </p> + <p> + “Do it, by all means!” urged McComb. “It will be a grand + success—I know it! Take the largest house in town, and charge a + dollar a ticket.” + </p> + <p> + Frightened but resolute, he went to the leading theater manager the same + Tom Maguire of his verses—and was offered the new opera-house at + half rates. The next day this advertisement appeared: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MAGUIRE'S ACADEMY OF MUSIC + PINE STREET, NEAR MONTGOMERY + + THE SANDWICH ISLANDS + + MARK TWAIN + + (HONOLULU CORRESPONDENT OF THE SACRAMENTO UNION) + WILL DELIVER A + LECTURE ON THE SANDWICH ISLANDS + + AT THE ACADEMY OF MUSIC + ON TUESDAY EVENING, OCT. 2d + (1866) + + In which passing mention will be made of Harris, Bishop Staley, the +American missionaries, etc., and the absurd customs and characteristics +of the natives duly discussed and described. The great volcano of +Kilauea will also receive proper attention. + + A SPLENDID ORCHESTRA + is in town, but has not been engaged + ALSO + A DEN OF FEROCIOUS WILD BEASTS + will be on exhibition in the next block + MAGNIFICENT FIREWORKS + + were in contemplation for this occasion, but the idea has been abandoned +A GRAND TORCHLIGHT PROCESSION may be expected; in fact, the public are +privileged to expect whatever they please. + + Dress Circle, $1.00 Family Circle, 50c + Doors open at 7 o'clock The Trouble to begin at 8 o'clock +</pre> + <p> + The story of that first lecture, as told in Roughing It, is a faithful + one, and need only be summarized here. + </p> + <p> + Expecting to find the house empty, he found it packed from the footlights + to the walls. Sidling out from the wings—wobbly-kneed and dry of + tongue—he was greeted by a murmur, a roar, a very crash of applause + that frightened away his remaining vestiges of courage. Then, came + reaction—these were his friends, and he began to talk to them. Fear + melted away, and as tide after tide of applause rose and billowed and came + breaking at his feet, he knew something of the exaltation of Monte Cristo + when he declared “The world is mine!” + </p> + <p> + It was a vast satisfaction to have succeeded. It was particularly + gratifying at this time, for he dreaded going back into newspaper harness. + Also; it softened later the disappointment resulting from another venture; + for when the December Harper appeared, with his article, the printer and + proof-reader had somehow converted Mark Twain into “Mark Swain,” + and his literary dream perished. + </p> + <p> + As to the literary value of his lecture, it was much higher than had, been + any portion of his letters, if we may judge from its few remaining + fragments. One of these—a part of the description of the great + volcano Haleakala, on the island of Maui—is a fair example of his + eloquence. + </p> + <p> + It is somewhat more florid than his later description of the same scene in + Roughing It, which it otherwise resembles; and we may imagine that its + poetry, with the added charm of its delivery, held breathless his hearers, + many of whom believed that no purer eloquence had ever been uttered or + written. + </p> + <p> + It is worth remembering, too, that in this lecture, delivered so long ago, + he advocated the idea of American ownership of these islands, dwelling at + considerable length on his reasons for this ideal. —[For fragmentary + extracts from this first lecture of Mark Twain and news comment, see + Appendix D, end of last volume.]—There was a gross return from his + venture of more than $1,200, but with his usual business insight, which + was never foresight, he had made an arrangement by which, after paying + bills and dividing with his manager, he had only about one-third of, this + sum left. Still, even this was prosperity and triumph. He had acquired a + new and lucrative profession at a bound. The papers lauded him as the + “most piquant and humorous writer and lecturer on the Coast since + the days of the lamented John Phoenix.” He felt that he was on the + highroad at last. + </p> + <p> + Denis McCarthy, late of the Enterprise, was in San Francisco, and was + willing to become his manager. Denis was capable and honest, and Clemens + was fond of him. They planned a tour of the near-by towns, beginning with + Sacramento, extending it later even to the mining camps, such as Red Dog + and Grass Valley; also across into Nevada, with engagements at Carson + City, Virginia, and Gold Hill. It was an exultant and hilarious excursion—that + first lecture tour made by Denis McCarthy and Mark Twain. Success traveled + with them everywhere, whether the lecturer looked across the footlights of + some pretentious “opera-house” or between the two tallow + candles of some camp “academy.” Whatever the building, it was + packed, and the returns were maximum. + </p> + <p> + Those who remember him as a lecturer in that long-ago time say that his + delivery was more quaint, his drawl more exaggerated, even than in later + life; that his appearance and movements on the stage were natural, rather + than graceful; that his manuscript, which he carried under his arm, looked + like a ruffled hen. It was, in fact, originally written on sheets of + manila paper, in large characters, so that it could be read easily by dim + light, and it was doubtless often disordered. + </p> + <p> + There was plenty of amusing experience on this tour. At one place, when + the lecture was over, an old man came to him and said: + </p> + <p> + “Be them your natural tones of eloquence?” + </p> + <p> + At Grass Valley there was a rival show, consisting of a lady tight-rope + walker and her husband. It was a small place, and the tight-rope + attraction seemed likely to fail. The lady's husband had formerly been a + compositor on the Enterprise, so that he felt there was a bond of + brotherhood between him and Mark Twain. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” he said. “Let's combine our shows. I'll let + my wife do the tight-rope act outside and draw a crowd, and you go inside + and lecture.” + </p> + <p> + The arrangement was not made. + </p> + <p> + Following custom, the lecturer at first thought it necessary to be + introduced, and at each place McCarthy had to skirmish around and find the + proper person. At Red Dog, on the Stanislaus, the man selected failed to + appear, and Denis had to provide another on short notice. He went down + into the audience and captured an old fellow, who ducked and dodged but + could not escape. Denis led him to the stage, a good deal frightened. + </p> + <p> + “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “this is the celebrated + Mark Twain from the celebrated city of San Francisco, with his celebrated + lecture about the celebrated Sandwich Islands.” + </p> + <p> + That was as far as he could go; but it was far enough. Mark Twain never + had a better introduction. The audience was in a shouting humor from the + start. + </p> + <p> + Clemens himself used to tell of an introduction at another camp, where his + sponsor said: + </p> + <p> + “Ladies and gentlemen, I know only two things about this man: the + first is that he's never been in jail, and the second is I don't know why.” + </p> + <p> + But this is probably apocryphal; there is too much “Mark Twain” + in it. + </p> + <p> + When he reached Virginia, Goodman said to him: + </p> + <p> + “Sam, you do not need anybody to introduce you. There's a piano on + the stage in the theater. Have it brought out in sight, and when the + curtain rises you be seated at the piano, playing and singing that song of + yours, 'I Had an Old Horse Whose Name Was Methusalem,' and don't seem to + notice that the curtain is up at first; then be surprised when you + suddenly find out that it is up, and begin talking, without any further + preliminaries.” + </p> + <p> + This proved good advice, and the lecture, thus opened, started off with + general hilarity and applause. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0060" id="link2H_4_0060"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LV. HIGHWAY ROBBERY + </h2> + <p> + His Nevada, lectures were bound to be immensely successful. The people + regarded him as their property over there, and at Carson and Virginia the + houses overflowed. At Virginia especially his friends urged and begged him + to repeat the entertainment, but he resolutely declined. + </p> + <p> + “I have only one lecture yet,” he said. “I cannot bring + myself to give it twice in the same town.” + </p> + <p> + But that irresponsible imp, Steve Gillis, who was again in Virginia, + conceived a plan which would make it not only necessary for him to lecture + again, but would supply him with a subject. Steve's plan was very simple: + it was to relieve the lecturer of his funds by a friendly highway robbery, + and let an account of the adventure furnish the new lecture. + </p> + <p> + In 'Roughing It' Mark Twain has given a version of this mock robbery which + is correct enough as far as it goes; but important details are lacking. + Only a few years ago (it was April, 1907), in his cabin on jackass Hill, + with Joseph Goodman and the writer of this history present, Steve Gillis + made his “death-bed” confession as is here set down: + </p> + <p> + “Mark's lecture was given in Piper's Opera House, October 30, 1866. + The Virginia City people had heard many famous lectures before, but they + were mere sideshows compared with Mark's. It could have been run to + crowded houses for a week. We begged him to give the common people a + chance; but he refused to repeat himself. He was going down to Carson, and + was coming back to talk in Gold Hill about a week later, and his agent, + Denis McCarthy, and I laid a plan to have him robbed on the Divide between + Gold Hill and Virginia, after the Gold Hill lecture was over and he and + Denis would be coming home with the money. The Divide was a good lonely + place, and was famous for its hold-ups. We got City Marshal George + Birdsall into it with us, and took in Leslie Blackburn, Pat Holland, Jimmy + Eddington, and one or two more of Sam's old friends. We all loved him, and + would have fought for him in a moment. That's the kind of friends Mark had + in Nevada. If he had any enemies I never heard of them. + </p> + <p> + “We didn't take in Dan de Quille, or Joe here, because Sam was Joe's + guest, and we were afraid he would tell him. We didn't take in Dan because + we wanted him to write it up as a genuine robbery and make a big + sensation. That would pack the opera-house at two dollars a seat to hear + Mark tell the story. + </p> + <p> + “Well, everything went off pretty well. About the time Mark was + finishing his lecture in Gold Hill the robbers all went up on the Divide + to wait, but Mark's audience gave him a kind of reception after his + lecture, and we nearly froze to death up there before he came along. By + and by I went back to see what was the matter. Sam and Denis were coming, + and carrying a carpet-sack about half full of silver between them. I + shadowed them and blew a policeman's whistle as a signal to the boys when + the lecturers were within about a hundred yards of the place. I heard Sam + say to Denis: + </p> + <p> + “'I'm glad they've got a policeman on the Divide. They never had one + in my day.' + </p> + <p> + “Just about that time the boys, all with black masks on and silver + dollars at the sides of their tongues to disguise their voices, stepped + out and stuck six-shooters at Sam and Denis and told them to put up their + hands. The robbers called each other 'Beauregard' and 'Stonewall Jackson.' + Of course Denis's hands went up, and Mark's, too, though Mark wasn't a bit + scared or excited. He talked to the robbers in his regular fashion. He + said: + </p> + <p> + “'Don't flourish those pistols so promiscuously. They might go off + by accident.' + </p> + <p> + “They told him to hand over his watch and money; but when he started + to take his hands down they made him put them up again. Then he asked how + they expected him to give them his valuables with his hands up in the sky. + He said his treasures didn't lie in heaven. He told them not to take his + watch, which was the one Sandy Baldwin and Theodore Winters had given him + as Governor of the Third House, but we took it all the same. + </p> + <p> + “Whenever he started to put his hands down we made him put them up + again. Once he said: + </p> + <p> + “'Don't you fellows be so rough. I was tenderly reared.' + </p> + <p> + “Then we told him and Denis to keep their hands up for fifteen + minutes after we were gone—this was to give us time to get back to + Virginia and be settled when they came along. As we were going away Mark + called: + </p> + <p> + “'Say, you forgot something.' + </p> + <p> + “'What is it?' + </p> + <p> + “Why, the carpet-bag.' + </p> + <p> + “He was cool all the time. Senator Bill Stewart, in his + Autobiography, tells a great story of how scared Mark was, and how he ran; + but Stewart was three thousand miles from Virginia by that time, and later + got mad at Mark because he made a joke about him in 'Roughing It'. + </p> + <p> + “Denis wanted to take his hands down pretty soon after we were gone, + but Mark said: + </p> + <p> + “'No, Denis, I'm used to obeying orders when they are given in that + convincing way; we'll just keep our hands up another fifteen minutes or so + for good measure.' + </p> + <p> + “We were waiting in a big saloon on C Street when Mark and Denis + came along. We knew they would come in, and we expected Mark would be + excited; but he was as unruffled as a mountain lake. He told us they had + been robbed, and asked me if I had any money. I gave him a hundred dollars + of his own money, and he ordered refreshments for everybody. Then we + adjourned to the Enterprise office, where he offered a reward, and Dan de + Quille wrote up the story and telegraphed it to the other newspapers. Then + somebody suggested that Mark would have to give another lecture now, and + that the robbery would make a great subject. He entered right into the + thing, and next day we engaged Piper's Opera House, and people were + offering five dollars apiece for front seats. It would have been the + biggest thing that ever came to Virginia if it had come off. But we made a + mistake, then, by taking Sandy Baldwin into the joke. We took in Joe here, + too, and gave him the watch and money to keep, which made it hard for Joe + afterward. But it was Sandy Baldwin that ruined us. He had Mark out to + dinner the night before the show was to come off, and after he got well + warmed up with champagne he thought it would be a smart thing to let Mark + into what was really going on. + </p> + <p> + “Mark didn't see it our way. He was mad clear through.” + </p> + <p> + At this point Joseph Goodman took up the story. He said: + </p> + <p> + “Those devils put Sam's money, watch, keys, pencils, and all his + things into my hands. I felt particularly mean at being made accessory to + the crime, especially as Sam was my guest, and I had grave doubts as to + how he would take it when he found out the robbery was not genuine. + </p> + <p> + “I felt terribly guilty when he said: + </p> + <p> + “'Joe, those d—n thieves took my keys, and I can't get into my + trunk. Do you suppose you could get me a key that would fit my trunk?' + </p> + <p> + “I said I thought I could during the day, and after Sam had gone I + took his own key, put it in the fire and burnt it to make it look black. + Then I took a file and scratched it here and there, to make it look as if + I had been fitting it to the lock, feeling guilty all the time, like a man + who is trying to hide a murder. Sam did not ask for his key that day, and + that evening he was invited to judge Baldwin's to dinner. I thought he + looked pretty silent and solemn when he came home; but he only said: + </p> + <p> + “'Joe, let's play cards; I don't feel sleepy.' + </p> + <p> + “Steve here, and two or three of the other boys who had been active + in the robbery, were present, and they did not like Sam's manner, so they + excused themselves and left him alone with me. We played a good while; + then he said: + </p> + <p> + “'Joe, these cards are greasy. I have got some new ones in my trunk. + Did you get that key to-day?' + </p> + <p> + “I fished out that burnt, scratched-up key with fear and trembling. + But he didn't seem to notice it at all, and presently returned with the + cards. Then we played, and played, and played—till one o'clock—two + o'clock—Sam hardly saying a word, and I wondering what was going to + happen. By and by he laid down his cards and looked at me, and said: + </p> + <p> + “'Joe, Sandy Baldwin told me all about that robbery to-night. Now, + Joe, I have found out that the law doesn't recognize a joke, and I am + going to send every one of those fellows to the penitentiary.' + </p> + <p> + “He said it with such solemn gravity, and such vindictiveness, that + I believed he was in dead earnest. + </p> + <p> + “I know that I put in two hours of the hardest work I ever did, + trying to talk him out of that resolution. I used all the arguments about + the boys being his oldest friends; how they all loved him, and how the + joke had been entirely for his own good; I pleaded with him, begged him to + reconsider; I went and got his money and his watch and laid them on the + table; but for a time it seemed hopeless. And I could imagine those + fellows going behind the bars, and the sensation it would make in + California; and just as I was about to give it up he said: + </p> + <p> + “'Well, Joe, I'll let it pass—this time; I'll forgive them + again; I've had to do it so many times; but if I should see Denis McCarthy + and Steve Gillis mounting the scaffold to-morrow, and I could save them by + turning over my hand, I wouldn't do it!' + </p> + <p> + “He canceled the lecture engagement, however, next morning, and the + day after left on the Pioneer Stage, by the way of Donner Lake, for + California. The boys came rather sheepishly to see him off; but he would + make no show of relenting. When they introduced themselves as Beauregard, + Stonewall Jackson, etc., he merely said: + </p> + <p> + “'Yes, and you'll all be behind the bars some day. There's been a + good deal of robbery around here lately, and it's pretty clear now who did + it.' They handed him a package containing the masks which the robbers had + worn. He received it in gloomy silence; but as the stage drove away he put + his head out of the window, and after some pretty vigorous admonition + resumed his old smile, and called out: 'Good-by, friends; good-by, + thieves; I bear you no malice.' So the heaviest joke was on his tormentors + after all.” + </p> + <p> + This is the story of the famous Mark Twain robbery direct from + headquarters. It has been garbled in so many ways that it seems worth + setting down in full. Denis McCarthy, who joined him presently in San + Francisco, received a little more punishment there. + </p> + <p> + “What kind of a trip did you boys have?” a friend asked of + them. + </p> + <p> + Clemens, just recovering from a cold which the exposure on the Divide had + given him, smiled grimly: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, pretty good, only Denis here mistook it for a spree.” + </p> + <p> + He lectured again in San Francisco, this time telling the story of his + Overland trip in 1861, and he did the daring thing of repeating three + times the worn-out story of Horace Greeley's ride with Hank Monk, as given + later in 'Roughing It'. People were deadly tired of that story out there, + and when he told it the first time, with great seriousness, they thought + he must be failing mentally. They did not laugh—they only felt + sorry. He waited a little, as if expecting a laugh, and presently led + around to it and told it again. The audience was astonished still more, + and pitied him thoroughly. He seemed to be waiting pathetically in the + dead silence for their applause, then went on with his lecture; but + presently, with labored effort, struggled around to the old story again, + and told it for the third time. The audience suddenly saw the joke then, + and became vociferous and hysterical in their applause; but it was a + narrow escape. He would have been hysterical himself if the relief had not + came when it did. —[A side-light on the Horace Greeley story and on + Mr. Greeley's eccentricities is furnished by Mr. Goodman: + </p> + <p> + When I was going East in 1869 I happened to see Hank Monk just before I + started. “Mr. Goodman,” he said, “you tell Horace + Greeley that I want to come East, and ask him to send me a pass.” + “All right, Hank,” I said, “I will.” It happened + that when I got to New York City one of the first men I met was Greeley. + “Mr. Greeley,” said, “I have a message for you from Hank + Monk.” Greeley bristled and glared at me. “That—rascal?” + he said, “He has done me more injury than any other man in America.”] + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0061" id="link2H_4_0061"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LVI. BACK TO THE STATES + </h2> + <p> + In the mean time Clemens had completed his plan for sailing, and had + arranged with General McComb, of the Alta California, for letters during + his proposed trip around the world. However, he meant to visit his people + first, and his old home. He could go back with means now, and with the + prestige of success. + </p> + <p> + “I sail to-morrow per Opposition—telegraphed you to-day,” + he wrote on December 14th, and a day later his note-book entry says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sailed from San Francisco in Opposition (line) steamer America, + Capt. Wakeman, at noon, 15th Dec., 1866. Pleasant sunny day, hills + brightly clad with green grass and shrubbery. +</pre> + <p> + So he was really going home at last! He had been gone five and a half + years—eventful, adventurous years that had made him over completely, + at least so far as ambitions and equipment were concerned. He had came + away, in his early manhood, a printer and a pilot, unknown outside of his + class. He was returning a man of thirty-one, with a fund of hard + experience, three added professions—mining, journalism, and + lecturing—also with a new name, already famous on the sunset slopes + of its adoption, and beginning to be heard over the hills and far away. In + some degree, at least, he resembled the prince of a fairy tale who, + starting out humble and unnoticed, wins his way through a hundred + adventures and returns with gifts and honors. + </p> + <p> + The homeward voyage was a notable one. It began with a tempest a little + way out of San Francisco—a storm terrible but brief, that brought + the passengers from their berths to the deck, and for a time set them + praying. Then there was Captain Ned Wakeman, a big, burly, fearless + sailor, who had visited the edges of all continents and archipelagos; who + had been born at sea, and never had a day's schooling in his life, but + knew the Bible by heart; who was full of human nature and profanity, and + believed he was the only man on the globe who knew the secret of the Bible + miracles. He became a distinct personality in Mark Twain's work—the + memory of him was an unfailing delight. Captain “Ned Blakely,” + in 'Roughing It', who with his own hands hanged Bill Noakes, after reading + him promiscuous chapters from the Bible, was Captain Wakeman. Captain + “Stormfield,” who had the marvelous visit to heaven, was + likewise Captain Wakeman; and he appears in the “Idle Excursion” + and elsewhere. + </p> + <p> + Another event of the voyage was crossing the Nicaragua Isthmus—the + trip across the lake and down the San Juan River—a brand-new + experience, between shores of splendid tropic tangle, gleaming with vivid + life. The luxuriance got into his note-book. + </p> + <p> + Dark grottos, fairy festoons, tunnels, temples, columns, pillars, towers, + pilasters, terraces, pyramids, mounds, domes, walls, in endless confusion + of vine-work—no shape known to architecture unimitated—and all + so webbed together that short distances within are only gained by + glimpses. Monkeys here and there; birds warbling; gorgeous plumaged birds + on the wing; Paradise itself, the imperial realm of beauty-nothing to wish + for to make it perfect. + </p> + <p> + But it was beyond the isthmus that the voyage loomed into proportions + somber and terrible. The vessel they took there, the San Francisco, sailed + from Greytown January 1, 1867, the beginning of a memorable year in Mark + Twain's life. Next day two cases of Asiatic cholera were reported in the + steerage. There had been a rumor of it in Nicaragua, but no one expected + it on the ship. + </p> + <p> + The nature of the disease was not hinted at until evening, when one of the + men died. Soon after midnight, the other followed. A minister making the + voyage home, Rev. J. G. Fackler, read the burial service. The gaiety of + the passengers, who had become well acquainted during the Pacific voyage, + was subdued. When the word “cholera” went among them, faces + grew grave and frightened. On the morning of January 4th Reverend + Fackler's services were again required. The dead man was put overboard + within half an hour after he had ceased to breathe. + </p> + <p> + Gloom settled upon the ship. All steam was made to put into Key West. Then + some of the machinery gave way and the ship lay rolling, helplessly + becalmed in the fierce heat of the Gulf, while repairs were being made. + The work was done at a disadvantage, and the parts did not hold. Time and + again they were obliged to lie to, in the deadly tropic heat, listening to + the hopeless hammering, wondering who would be the next to be sewed up + hastily in a blanket and slipped over the ship's side. On the 5th seven + new cases of illness were reported. One of the crew, a man called “Shape,” + was said to be dying. A few hours later he was dead. By this time the + Reverend Fackler himself had been taken. + </p> + <p> + “So they are burying poor 'Shape' without benefit of clergy,” + says the note-book. + </p> + <p> + General consternation now began to prevail. Then it was learned that the + ship's doctor had run out of medicines. The passengers became demoralized. + They believed their vessel was to become a charnel ship. Strict sanitary + orders were issued, and a hospital was improvised. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Verily the ship is becoming a floating hospital herself—not an hour + passes but brings its fresh sensation, its new disaster, its + melancholy tidings. When I think of poor “Shape” and the preacher, + both so well when I saw them yesterday evening, I realize that I + myself may be dead to-morrow. + + Since the last two hours all laughter, all levity, has ceased on the + ship—a settled gloom is upon the faces of the passengers. +</pre> + <p> + By noon it was evident that the minister could not survive. He died at two + o'clock next morning; the fifth victim in less than five days. The + machinery continued to break and the vessel to drag. The ship's doctor + confessed to Clemens that he was helpless. There were eight patients in + the hospital. + </p> + <p> + But on January 6th they managed to make Key West, and for some reason were + not quarantined. Twenty-one passengers immediately deserted the ship and + were heard of no more. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad they are gone. D—n them,” says the notebook. + Apparently he had never considered leaving, and a number of others + remained. The doctor restocked his medicine-locker, and the next day they + put to sea again. Certainly they were a daring lot of voyagers. On the 8th + another of the patients died. Then the cooler weather seemed to check the + contagion, and it was not until the night of the 11th, when the New York + harbor lights were in view, that the final death occurred. There were no + new cases by this time, and the other patients were convalescent. A + certificate was made out that the last man had died of “dropsy.” + There would seem to have been no serious difficulty in docking the vessel + and landing the passengers. The matter would probably be handled + differently to-day. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0062" id="link2H_4_0062"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LVII. OLD FRIENDS AND NEW PLANS + </h2> + <p> + It had been more than thirteen years since his first arrival in New York. + Then he had been a youth, green, untraveled, eager to get away from home. + Now a veteran, he was as eager to return. + </p> + <p> + He stopped only long enough in New York to see Charles Henry Webb, late of + California, who had put together a number of the Mark Twain sketches, + including “The Jumping Frog,” for book publication. Clemens + himself decided to take the book to Carleton, thinking that, having missed + the fame of the “Frog” once, he might welcome a chance to + stand sponsor for it now. But Carleton was wary; the “Frog” + had won favor, and even fame, in its fugitive, vagrant way, but a book was + another matter. Books were undertaken very seriously and with plenty of + consideration in those days. Twenty-one years later, in Switzerland, + Carleton said to Mark Twain: + </p> + <p> + “My chief claim to immortality is the distinction of having declined + your first book.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens was ready enough to give up the book when Carleton declined it, + but Webb said he would publish it himself, and he set about it forthwith. + The author waited no longer now, but started for St. Louis, and was soon + with his mother and sister, whom he had not seen since that eventful first + year of the war. They thought he looked old, which was true enough, but + they found him unchanged in his manner: buoyant, full of banter and + gravely quaint remarks—he was always the same. Jane Clemens had + grown older, too. She was nearly sixty-four, but as keen and vigorous as + ever-proud (even if somewhat critical) of this handsome, brilliant man of + new name and fame who had been her mischievous, wayward boy. She petted + him, joked with him, scolded him, and inquired searchingly into his morals + and habits. In turn he petted, comforted, and teased her. She decided that + he was the same Sam, and always would be—a true prophecy. + </p> + <p> + He went up to Hannibal to see old friends. Many were married; some had + moved away; some were dead—the old story. He delivered his lecture + there, and was the center of interest and admiration—his welcome + might have satisfied even Tom Sawyer. From Hannibal he journeyed to + Keokuk, where he lectured again to a crowd of old friends and new, then + returned to St. Louis for a more extended visit. + </p> + <p> + It was while he was in St. Louis that he first saw the announcement of the + Quaker City Holy Land Excursion, and was promptly fascinated by what was + then a brand-new idea in ocean travel—a splendid picnic—a + choice and refined party that would sail away for a long summer's + journeying to the most romantic of all lands and seas, the shores of the + Mediterranean. No such argosy had ever set out before in pursuit of the + golden fleece of happiness. + </p> + <p> + His projected trip around the world lost its charm in the light of this + idyllic dream. Henry Ward Beecher was advertised as one of the party; + General Sherman as another; also ministers, high-class journalists—the + best minds of the nation. Anson Burlingame had told him to associate with + persons of refinement and intellect. He lost no time in writing to the + Alta, proposing that they send him in this select company. + </p> + <p> + Noah Brooks, who was then on the Alta, states—[In an article + published in the Century Magazine.]—that the management was + staggered by the proposition, but that Col. John McComb insisted that the + investment in Mark Twain would be sound. A letter was accordingly sent, + stating that a check for his passage would be forwarded in due season, and + that meantime he could contribute letters from New York City. The rate for + all letters was to be twenty dollars each. The arrangement was a godsend, + in the fullest sense of the word, to Mark Twain. + </p> + <p> + It was now April, and he was eager to get back to New York to arrange his + passage. The Quaker City would not sail for two months yet (two eventful + months), but the advertisement said that passages must be secured by the + 5th, and he was there on that day. Almost the first man he met was the + chief of the New York Alta bureau with a check for twelve hundred and + fifty dollars (the amount of his ticket) and a telegram saying, “Ship + Mark Twain in the Holy Land Excursion and pay his passage.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + —[The following letter, which bears no date, was probably handed to + him later in the New York Alta office as a sort of credential: + + ALTA CALIFORNIA OFFICE, 42 JOHN STREET, NEW YORK. + + Sam'l Clemens, Esq., New York. + + DEAR SIR,—I have the honor to inform you that Fred'k. MacCrellish + & Co., Proprietors of Alta California, San Francisco, Cal., desire + to engage your services as Special Correspondent on the pleasure + excursion now about to proceed from this City to the Holy Land. In + obedience to their instructions I have secured a passage for you on + the vessel about to convey the excursion party referred to, and made + such arrangements as I hope will secure your comfort and + convenience. Your only instructions are that you will continue to + write at such times and from such places as you deem proper, and in + the same style that heretofore secured you the favor of the readers + of the Alta California. I have the honor to remain, with high + respect and esteem, + + Your ob'dt. Servant, + + JOHN J. MURPHY.] +</pre> + <p> + The Alta, it appears, had already applied for his berth; but, not having + been vouched for by Mr. Beecher or some other eminent divine, Clemens was + fearful he might not be accepted. Quite casually he was enlightened on + this point. While waiting for attention in the shipping-office, with the + Alta agent, he heard a newspaper man inquire what notables were going. A + clerk, with evident pride, rattled off the names: + </p> + <p> + “Lieutenant-General Sherman, Henry Ward Beecher, and Mask Twain; + also probably General Banks.” + </p> + <p> + So he was billed as an attraction. It was his first surreptitious taste of + fame on the Atlantic coast, and not without its delight. The story often + told of his being introduced by Ned House, of the Tribune, as a minister, + though often repeated by Mark Twain himself, was in the nature of a joke, + and mainly apocryphal. Clemens was a good deal in House's company at the + time, for he had made an arrangement to contribute occasional letters to + the Tribune, and House no doubt introduced him jokingly as one of the + Quaker City ministers. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0063" id="link2H_4_0063"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LVIII. A NEW BOOK AND A LECTURE + </h2> + <p> + Webb, meantime, had pushed the Frog book along. The proofs had been read + and the volume was about ready for issue. Clemens wrote to his mother + April 15th: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + My book will probably be in the bookseller's hands in about two + weeks. After that I shall lecture. Since I have been gone, the + boys have gotten up a “call” on me signed by two hundred + Californians. +</pre> + <p> + The lecture plan was the idea of Frank Fuller, who as acting Governor of + Utah had known Mark Twain on the Comstock, and prophesied favorably of his + future career. Clemens had hunted up Fuller on landing in New York in + January, and Fuller had encouraged the lecture then; but Clemens was + doubtful. + </p> + <p> + “I have no reputation with the general public here,” he said. + “We couldn't get a baker's dozen to hear me.” + </p> + <p> + But Fuller was a sanguine person, with an energy and enthusiasm that were + infectious. He insisted that the idea was sound. It would solidify Mark + Twain's reputation on the Atlantic coast, he declared, insisting that the + largest house in New York, Cooper Union, should be taken. Clemens had + partially consented, and Fuller had arranged with all the Pacific slope + people who had come East, headed by ex-Governor James W. Nye (by this time + Senator at Washington), to sign a call for the “Inimitable Mark + Twain” to appear before a New York audience. Fuller made Nye agree + to be there and introduce the lecturer, and he was burningly busy and + happy in the prospect. + </p> + <p> + But Mark Twain was not happy. He looked at that spacious hall and imagined + the little crowd of faithful Californian stragglers that might gather in + to hear him, and the ridicule of the papers next day. He begged Fuller to + take a smaller hall, the smallest he could get. But only the biggest hall + in New York would satisfy Fuller. He would have taken a larger one if he + could have found it. The lecture was announced for May 6th. Its subject + was “Kanakadom, or the Sandwich Islands”—tickets fifty + cents. Fuller timed it to follow a few days after Webb's book should + appear, so that one event might help the other. + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain's first book, 'The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveyas County, + and Other Sketches', was scheduled for May 1st, and did, in fact, appear + on that date; but to the author it was no longer an important event. Jim + Smiley's frog as standard-bearer of his literary procession was not an + interesting object, so far as he was concerned—not with that vast, + empty hall in the background and the insane undertaking of trying to fill + it. The San Francisco venture had been as nothing compared with this. + Fuller was working night and day with abounding joy, while the subject of + his labor felt as if he were on the brink of a fearful precipice, + preparing to try a pair of wings without first learning to fly. At one + instant he was cold with fright, the next glowing with an infection of + Fuller's faith. He devised a hundred schemes for the sale of seats. Once + he came rushing to Fuller, saying: + </p> + <p> + “Send a lot of tickets down to the Chickering Piano Company. I have + promised to put on my programme, 'The piano used at this entertainment is + manufactured by Chickering.”' + </p> + <p> + “But you don't want a piano, Mark,” said Fuller, “do + you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, of course not; but they will distribute the tickets for the + sake of the advertisement, whether we have the piano or not.” + </p> + <p> + Fuller got out a lot of handbills and hung bunches of them in the stages, + omnibuses, and horse-cars. Clemens at first haunted these vehicles to see + if anybody noticed the bills. The little dangling bunches seemed + untouched. Finally two men came in; one of them pulled off a bill and + glanced at it. His friend asked: + </p> + <p> + “Who's Mark Twain?” + </p> + <p> + “God knows; I don't!” + </p> + <p> + The lecturer could not ride any more. He was desperate. + </p> + <p> + “Fuller,” he groaned, “there isn't a sign—a ripple + of interest.” + </p> + <p> + Fuller assured him that everything was working all right “working + underneath,” Fuller said—but the lecturer was hopeless. He + reported his impressions to the folks at home: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Everything looks shady, at least, if not dark; I have a good agent; + but now, after we have hired the Cooper Institute, and gone to an + expense in one way or another of $500, it comes out that I have got + to play against Speaker Colfax at Irving Hall, Ristori, and also the + double troop of Japanese jugglers, the latter opening at the great + Academy of Music—and with all this against me I have taken the + largest house in New York and cannot back water. +</pre> + <p> + He might have added that there were other rival entertainments: “The + Flying Scud” was at Wallack's, the “Black Crook” was at + Niblo's, John Brougham at the Olympic; and there were at least a dozen + lesser attractions. New York was not the inexhaustible city in those days; + these things could gather in the public to the last man. When the day drew + near, and only a few tickets had been sold, Clemens was desperate. + </p> + <p> + “Fuller,” he said, “there'll be nobody in the Cooper + Union that night but you and me. I am on the verge of suicide. I would + commit suicide if I had the pluck and the outfit. You must paper the + house, Fuller. You must send out a flood of complementaries.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Fuller; “what we want this time is + reputation anyway—money is secondary. I'll put you before the + choicest, most intelligent audience that ever was gathered in New York + City. I will bring in the school-instructors—the finest body of men + and women in the world.” + </p> + <p> + Fuller immediately sent out a deluge of complimentary tickets, inviting + the school-teachers of New York and Brooklyn, and all the adjacent + country, to come free and hear Mark Twain's great lecture on Kanakadom. + This was within forty-eight hours of the time he was to appear. + </p> + <p> + Senator Nye was to have joined Clemens and Fuller at the Westminster, + where Clemens was stopping, and they waited for him there with a carriage, + fuming and swearing, until it was evident that he was not coming. At last + Clemens said: + </p> + <p> + “Fuller, you've got to introduce me.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” suggested Fuller; “I've got a better scheme than + that. You get up and begin by bemeaning Nye for not being there. That will + be better anyway.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, Fuller, I can do that. I feel that way. I'll try to think up + something fresh and happy to say about that horse-thief.” + </p> + <p> + They drove to Cooper Union with trepidation. Suppose, after all, the + school-teachers had declined to come? They went half an hour before the + lecture was to begin. Forty years later Mark Twain said: + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't keep away. I wanted to see that vast Mammoth cave and + die. But when we got near the building I saw that all the streets were + blocked with people, and that traffic had stopped. I couldn't believe that + these people were trying to get into Cooper Institute; but they were, and + when I got to the stage at last the house was jammed full-packed; there + wasn't room enough left for a child. + </p> + <p> + “I was happy and I was excited beyond expression. I poured the + Sandwich Islands out on those people, and they laughed and shouted to my + entire content. For an hour and fifteen minutes I was in paradise.” + </p> + <p> + And Fuller to-day, alive and young, when so many others of that ancient + time and event have vanished, has added: + </p> + <p> + “When Mark appeared the Californians gave a regular yell of welcome. + When that was over he walked to the edge of the platform, looked carefully + down in the pit, round the edges as if he were hunting for something. Then + he said: 'There was to have been a piano here, and a senator to introduce + me. I don't seem to discover them anywhere. The piano was a good one, but + we will have to get along with such music as I can make with your help. As + for the senator—Then Mark let himself go and did as he promised + about Senator Nye. He said things that made men from the Pacific coast, + who had known Nye, scream with delight. After that came his lecture. The + first sentence captured the audience. From that moment to the end it was + either in a roar of laughter or half breathless by his beautiful + descriptive passages. People were positively ill for days, laughing at + that lecture.” + </p> + <p> + So it was a success: everybody was glad to have been there; the papers + were kind, congratulations numerous. —[Kind but not extravagant; + those were burning political times, and the doings of mere literary people + did not excite the press to the extent of headlines. A jam around Cooper + Union to-day, followed by such an artistic triumph, would be a news event. + On the other hand, Schuyler Colfax, then Speaker of the House, was + reported to the extent of a column, nonpareil. His lecture was of no + literary importance, and no echo of it now remains. But those were + political, not artistic, days. + </p> + <p> + Of Mark Twain's lecture the Times notice said: + </p> + <p> + “Nearly every one present came prepared for considerable provocation + for enjoyable laughter, and from the appearance of their mirthful faces + leaving the hall at the conclusion of the lecture but few were + disappointed, and it is not too much to say that seldom has so large an + audience been so uniformly pleased as the one that listened to Mark + Twain's quaint remarks last evening. The large hall of the Union was + filled to its utmost capacity by fully two thousand persons, which fact + spoke well for the reputation of the lecturer and his future success. Mark + Twain's style is a quaint one both in manner and method, and through his + discourse he managed to keep on the right side of the audience, and + frequently convulsed it with hearty laughter.... During a description of + the topography of the Sandwich Islands the lecturer surprised his hearers + by a graphic and eloquent description of the eruption of the great + volcano, which occurred in 1840, and his language was loudly applauded. + </p> + <p> + “Judging from the success achieved by the lecturer last evening, he + should repeat his experiment at an early date.”] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + COOPER INSTITUTE + By Invitation of s large number of prominent Californians and + Citizens of New York, + + MARK TWAIN + + WILL DELIVER A + SERIO-HUMEROUS LECTURE + CONERNING + + KANAKDOM + OR + THE SANDWICH ISLANDS, + + COOPER INSTITUTE, + On Monday Evening, May 6,1867. + + TICKETS FIFTY GENTS. + For Sale at Chickering and Sons, 852 Broadway, and at the Principal + Hotel + + Doors open at 7 o'clock. The Wisdom will begin to flow at 8. +</pre> + <p> + Mark Twain always felt grateful to the school-teachers for that night. + Many years later, when they wanted him to read to them in Steinway Hall, + he gladly gave his services without charge. + </p> + <p> + Nor was the lecture a complete financial failure. In spite of the flood of + complementaries, there was a cash return of some three hundred dollars + from the sale of tickets—a substantial aid in defraying the expenses + which Fuller assumed and insisted on making good on his own account. That + was Fuller's regal way; his return lay in the joy of the game, and in the + winning of the larger stake for a friend. + </p> + <p> + “Mark,” he said, “it is all right. The fortune didn't + come, but it will. The fame has arrived; with this lecture and your book + just out you are going to be the most talked-of man in the country. Your + letters for the Alta and the Tribune will get the widest reception of any + letters of travel ever written.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0064" id="link2H_4_0064"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LIX. THE FIRST BOOK + </h2> + <p> + With the shadow of the Cooper Institute so happily dispelled, The + Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County, and his following of Other + Sketches, became a matter of more interest. The book was a neat + blue-and-gold volume printed by John A. Gray & Green, the old firm for + which the boy, Sam Clemens, had set type thirteen years before. The + title-page bore Webb's name as publisher, with the American News Company + as selling agents. It further stated that the book was edited by “John + Paul,” that is to say by Webb himself. The dedication was in keeping + with the general irresponsible character of the venture. It was as + follows: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + TO + JOHN SMITH + WHOM I HAVE KNOWN IN DIVERS AND SUNDRY + PLACES ABOUT THE WORLD, AND WHOSE + MANY AND MANIFOLD VIRTUES DID + ALWAYS COMMAND MY ESTEEM, + I DEDICATE THIS BOOK +</pre> + <p> + It is said that the man to whom a volume is dedicated always buys a copy. + If this prove true in the present instance, a princely affluence is about + to burst upon THE AUTHOR. + </p> + <p> + The “advertisement” stated that the author had “scaled + the heights of popularity at a single jump, and won for himself the + sobriquet of the 'Wild Humorist of the Pacific Slope'; furthermore, that + he was known to fame as the 'Moralist of the Main,'” and that as + such he would be likely to go down to posterity, adding that it was in his + secondary character, as humorist, rather than in his primal one of + moralist, that the volume aimed to present him.—[The advertisement + complete, with extracts from the book, may be found under Appendix E, at + the end of last volume.] + </p> + <p> + Every little while, during the forty years or more that have elapsed since + then, some one has come forward announcing Mark Twain to be as much a + philosopher as a humorist, as if this were a new discovery. But it was a + discovery chiefly to the person making the announcement. Every one who + ever knew Mark Twain at any period of his life made the same discovery. + Every one who ever took the trouble to familiarize himself with his work + made it. Those who did not make it have known his work only by hearsay and + quotation, or they have read it very casually, or have been very dull. It + would be much more of a discovery to find a book in which he has not been + serious—a philosopher, a moralist, and a poet. Even in the Jumping + Frog sketches, selected particularly for their inconsequence, the + under-vein of reflection and purpose is not lacking. The answer to Moral + Statistician—[In “Answers to Correspondents,” included + now in Sketches New and Old. An extract from it, and from “A Strange + Dream,” will be found in Appendix E.]—is fairly alive with + human wisdom and righteous wrath. The “Strange Dream,” though + ending in a joke, is aglow with poetry. Webb's “advertisement” + was playfully written, but it was earnestly intended, and he writes Mark + Twain down a moralist—not as a discovery, but as a matter of course. + The discoveries came along later, when the author's fame as a humorist had + dazzled the nations. + </p> + <p> + It is as well to say it here as anywhere, perhaps, that one reason why + Mark Twain found it difficult to be accepted seriously was the fact that + his personality was in itself so essentially humorous. His physiognomy, + his manner of speech, this movement, his mental attitude toward events—all + these were distinctly diverting. When we add to this that his medium of + expression was nearly always full of the quaint phrasing and those + surprising appositions which we recognize as amusing, it is not so + astonishing that his deeper, wiser, more serious purpose should be + overlooked. On the whole these unabated discoverers serve a purpose, if + only to make the rest of their species look somewhat deeper than the comic + phrase. + </p> + <p> + The little blue-and-gold volume which presented the Frog story and + twenty-six other sketches in covers is chiefly important to-day as being + Mark Twain's first book. The selections in it were made for a public that + had been too busy with a great war to learn discrimination, and most of + them have properly found oblivion. Fewer than a dozen of them were + included in his collected Sketches issued eight years later, and some even + of those might have been spared; also some that were added, for that + matter; but detailed literary criticism is not the province of this work. + The reader may investigate and judge for himself. + </p> + <p> + Clemens was pleased with the appearance of his book. To Bret Harte he + wrote: + </p> + <p> + The book is out and it is handsome. It is full of damnable errors of + grammar and deadly inconsistencies of spelling in the Frog sketch, because + I was away and did not read proofs; but be a friend and say nothing about + these things. When my hurry is over, I will send you a copy to pisen the + children with. + </p> + <p> + That he had no exaggerated opinion of the book's contents or prospects we + may gather from his letter home: + </p> + <p> + As for the Frog book, I don't believe it will ever pay anything worth a + cent. I published it simply to advertise myself, and not with the hope of + making anything out of it. + </p> + <p> + He had grown more lenient in his opinion of the merits of the Frog story + itself since it had made friends in high places, especially since James + Russell Lowell had pronounced it “the finest piece of humorous + writing yet produced in America”; but compared with his lecture + triumph, and his prospective journey to foreign seas, his book venture, at + best, claimed no more than a casual regard. A Sandwich Island book (he had + collected his Union letters with the idea of a volume) he gave up + altogether after one unsuccessful offer of it to Dick & Fitzgerald. + </p> + <p> + Frank Fuller's statement, that the fame had arrived, had in it some + measure of truth. Lecture propositions came from various directions. + Thomas Nast, then in the early day of his great popularity, proposed a + joint tour, in which Clemens would lecture, while he, Nast, illustrated + the remarks with lightning caricatures. But the time was too short; the + Quaker City would sail on the 8th of June, and in the mean time the Alta + correspondent was far behind with his New York letters. On May 29th he + wrote: + </p> + <p> + I am 18 Alta letters behind, and I must catch up or bust. I have refused + all invitations to lecture. Don't know how my book is coming on. + </p> + <p> + He worked like a slave for a week or so, almost night and day, to clean up + matters before his departure. Then came days of idleness and reaction-days + of waiting, during which his natural restlessness and the old-time regret + for things done and undone, beset him. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + My passage is paid, and if the ship sails I sail on her; but I make + no calculations, have bought no cigars, no sea-going clothing—have + made no preparations whatever—shall not pack my trunk till the + morning we sail. + + All I do know or feel is that I am wild with impatience to move + —move—move! Curse the endless delays! They always kill me—they + make me neglect every duty, and then I have a conscience that tears + me like a wild beast. I wish I never had to stop anywhere a month. + I do more mean things the moment I get a chance to fold my hands and + sit down than ever I get forgiveness for. + + Yes, we are to meet at Mr. Beach's next Thursday night, and I + suppose we shall have to be gotten up regardless of expense, in + swallow-tails, white kids and everything 'en regle'. + + I am resigned to Rev. Mr. Hutchinson's or anybody else's + supervision. I don't mind it. I am fixed. I have got a splendid, + immoral, tobacco-smoking, wine-drinking, godless roommate who is as + good and true and right-minded a man as ever lived—a man whose + blameless conduct and example will always be an eloquent sermon to + all who shall come within their influence. But send on the + professional preachers—there are none I like better to converse + with; if they're not narrowminded and bigoted they make good + companions. +</pre> + <p> + The “splendid immoral room-mate” was Dan Slote—“Dan,” + of The Innocents, a lovable character—all as set down. Samuel + Clemens wrote one more letter to his mother and sister—a + conscience-stricken, pessimistic letter of good-by written the night + before sailing. Referring to the Alta letters he says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I think they are the stupidest letters ever written from New York. + Corresponding has been a perfect drag ever since I got to the + States. If it continues abroad, I don't know what the Tribune and + Alta folk will think. +</pre> + <p> + He remembers Orion, who had been officially eliminated when Nevada had + received statehood. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I often wonder if his law business is going satisfactorily. I wish + I had gone to Washington in the winter instead of going West. I + could have gouged an office out of Bill Stewart for him, and that + would have atoned for the loss of my home visit. But I am so + worthless that it seems to me I never do anything or accomplish + anything that lingers in my mind as a pleasant memory. My mind is + stored full of unworthy conduct toward Orion and toward you all, and + an accusing conscience gives me peace only in excitement and + restless moving from place to place. If I could only say I had done + one thing for any of you that entitled me to your good opinions (I + say nothing of your love, for I am sure of that, no matter how + unworthy of it I may make myself—from Orion down, you have always + given me that; all the days of my life, when God Almighty knows I + have seldom deserved it), I believe I could go home and stay there + —and I know I would care little for the world's praise or blame. + There is no satisfaction in the world's praise anyhow, and it has no + worth to me save in the way of business. I tried to gather up its + compliments to send you, but the work was distasteful and I dropped + it. + + You observe that under a cheerful exterior I have got a spirit that + is angry with me and gives me freely its contempt. I can get away + from that at sea, and be tranquil and satisfied; and so, with my + parting love and benediction for Orion and all of you, I say good-by + and God bless you all-and welcome the wind that wafts a weary soul + to the sunny lands of the Mediterranean! + + Yrs. forever, + SAM +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0065" id="link2H_4_0065"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LX. THE INNOCENTS AT SEA + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HOLY LAND PLEASURE EXCURSION + + Steamer: Quaker City. + + Captain C. C. Duncan. + + Left New York at 2 P.m., June 8, 1867. + + Rough weather—anchored within the harbor to lay all night. +</pre> + <p> + That first note recorded an event momentous in Mark Twain's career—an + event of supreme importance; if we concede that any link in a chain + regardless of size is of more importance than any other link. Undoubtedly + it remains the most conspicuous event, as the world views it now, in + retrospect. + </p> + <p> + The note further heads a new chapter of history in sea-voyaging. No such + thing as the sailing of an ocean steamship with a pleasure-party on a long + transatlantic cruise had ever occurred before. A similar project had been + undertaken the previous year, but owing to a cholera scare in the East it + had been abandoned. Now the dream had become a fact—a stupendous + fact when we consider it. Such an important beginning as that now would in + all likelihood furnish the chief news story of the day. + </p> + <p> + But they had different ideas of news in those days. There were no + headlines announcing the departure of the Quaker City—only the + barest mention of the ship's sailing, though a prominent position was + given to an account of a senatorial excursion-party which set out that + same morning over the Union Pacific Railway, then under construction. + Every name in that political party was set dawn, and not one of them + except General Hancock will ever be heard of again. The New York Times, + however, had some one on its editorial staff who thought it worth while to + comment a little on the history-making Quaker City excursion. The writer + was pleasantly complimentary to officers and passengers. He referred to + Moses S. Beach, of the Sun, who was taking with him type and press, + whereby he would “skilfully utilize the brains of the company for + their mutual edification.” Mr. Beecher and General Sherman would + find talent enough aboard to make the hours go pleasantly (evidently the + writer had not interested himself sufficiently to know that these + gentlemen were not along), and the paragraph closed by prophesying other + such excursions, and wishing the travelers “good speed, a happy + voyage, and a safe return.” + </p> + <p> + That was handsome, especially for those days; only now, some fine day, + when an airship shall start with a band of happy argonauts to land beyond + the sunrise for the first time in history, we shall feature it and + emblazon it with pictures in the Sunday papers, and weeklies, and in the + magazines.—[The Quaker City idea was so unheard-of that in some of + the foreign ports visited, the officials could not believe that the vessel + was simply a pleasure-craft, and were suspicious of some dark, ulterior + purpose.] + </p> + <p> + That Henry Ward Beecher and General Sherman had concluded not to go was a + heavy disappointment at first; but it proved only a temporary disaster. + The inevitable amalgamation of all ship companies took place. The + sixty-seven travelers fell into congenial groups, or they mingled and + devised amusements, and gossiped and became a big family, as happy and as + free from contention as families of that size are likely to be. + </p> + <p> + The Quaker City was a good enough ship and sizable for her time. She was + registered eighteen hundred tons—about one-tenth the size of + Mediterranean excursion-steamers today—and when conditions were + favorable she could make ten knots an hour under steam—or, at least, + she could do it with the help of her auxiliary sails. Altogether she was a + cozy, satisfactory ship, and they were a fortunate company who had her all + to themselves and went out on her on that long-ago ocean gipsying. She has + grown since then, even to the proportions of the Mayflower. It was + necessary for her to grow to hold all of those who in later times claimed + to have sailed in her on that voyage with Mark Twain.—[The Quaker + City passenger list will be found under Appendix F, at the end of last + volume.] + </p> + <p> + They were not all ministers and deacons aboard the Quaker City. Clemens + found other congenial spirits be sides his room-mate Dan Slote—among + them the ship's surgeon, Dr. A. Reeve Jackson (the guide-destroying + “Doctor” of The Innocents); Jack Van Nostrand, of New Jersey (“Jack”); + Julius Moulton, of St. Louis (“Moult”), and other care-free + fellows, the smoking-room crowd which is likely to make comradeship its + chief watchword. There were companionable people in the cabin crowd also—fine, + intelligent men and women, especially one of the latter, a middle-aged, + intellectual, motherly soul—Mrs. A. W. Fairbanks, of Cleveland, + Ohio. Mrs. Fairbanks—herself a newspaper correspondent for her + husband's paper, the Cleveland Herald had a large influence on the + character and general tone of those Quaker City letters which established + Mark Twain's larger fame. She was an able writer herself; her judgment was + thoughtful, refined, unbiased—altogether of a superior sort. She + understood Samuel Clemens, counseled him, encouraged him to read his + letters aloud to her, became in reality “Mother Fairbanks,” as + they termed her, to him and to others of that ship who needed her kindly + offices. + </p> + <p> + In one of his home letters, later, he said of her: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + She was the most refined, intelligent, cultivated lady in the ship, + and altogether the kindest and best. She sewed my buttons on, kept + my clothing in presentable trim, fed me on Egyptian jam (when I + behaved), lectured me awfully on the quarter-deck on moonlit + promenading evenings, and cured me of several bad habits. I am + under lasting obligations to her. She looks young because she is so + good, but she has a grown son and daughter at home. +</pre> + <p> + In one of the early letters which Mrs. Fairbanks wrote to her paper she is + scarcely less complimentary to him, even if in a different way. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We have D.D.'s and M.D.'s—we have men of wisdom and men of wit. + There is one table from which is sure to come a peal of laughter, + and all eyes are turned toward Mark Twain, whose face is, perfectly + mirth-provoking. Sitting lazily at the table, scarcely genteel in + his appearance, there is something, I know not what, that interests + and attracts. I saw to-day at dinner venerable divines and sage- + looking men convulsed with laughter at his drolleries and quaint, + odd manners. +</pre> + <p> + It requires only a few days on shipboard for acquaintances to form, and + presently a little afternoon group was gathering to hear Mark Twain read + his letters. Mrs. Fairbanks was there, of course, also Mr. and Mrs. S. L. + Severance, likewise of Cleveland, and Moses S. Beach, of the Sun, with his + daughter Emma, a girl of seventeen. Dan Slote was likely to be there, too, + and Jack, and the Doctor, and Charles J. Langdon, of Elmira, New York, a + boy of eighteen, who had conceived a deep admiration for the brilliant + writer. They were fortunate ones who first gathered to hear those daring, + wonderful letters. + </p> + <p> + But the benefit was a mutual one. He furnished a priceless entertainment, + and he derived something equally priceless in return—the test of + immediate audience and the boon of criticism. Mrs. Fairbanks especially + was frankly sincere. Mr. Severance wrote afterward: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + One afternoon I saw him tearing up a bunch of the soft, white paper- + copy paper, I guess the newspapers call it-on which he had written + something, and throwing the fragments into the Mediterranean. I + inquired of him why he cast away the fruits of his labors in that + manner. +</pre> + <p> + “Well,” he drawled, “Mrs. Fairbanks thinks it oughtn't + to be printed, and, like as not, she is right.” + </p> + <p> + And Emma Beach (Mrs. Abbott Thayer) remembers hearing him say: + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mrs. Fairbanks has just destroyed another four hours' work + for me.” + </p> + <p> + Sometimes he played chess with Emma Beach, who thought him a great hero + because, once when a crowd of men were tormenting a young lad, a + passenger, Mark Twain took the boy's part and made them desist. + </p> + <p> + “I am sure I was right, too,” she declares; “heroism + came natural to him.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Severance recalls another incident which, as he says, was trivial + enough, but not easy to forget: + </p> + <p> + We were having a little celebration over the birthday anniversary of Mrs. + Duncan, wife of our captain. Mark Twain got up and made a little speech, + in which he said Mrs. Duncan was really older than Methuselah because she + knew a lot of things that Methuselah never heard of. Then he mentioned a + number of more or less modern inventions, and wound up by saying, “What + did Methuselah know about a barbed-wire fence?” + </p> + <p> + Except Following the Equator, The Innocents Abroad comes nearer to being + history than any other of Mark Twain's travel-books. The notes for it were + made on the spot, and there was plenty of fact, plenty of fresh, new + experience, plenty of incident to set down. His idea of descriptive travel + in those days was to tell the story as it happened; also, perhaps, he had + not then acquired the courage of his inventions. We may believe that the + adventures with Jack, Dan, and the Doctor are elaborated here and there; + but even those happened substantially as recorded. There is little to add, + then, to the story of that halcyon trip, and not much to elucidate. + </p> + <p> + The old note-books give a light here and there that is interesting. It is + curious to be looking through them now, trying to realize that these + penciled memoranda were the fresh, first impressions that would presently + grow into the world's most delightful book of travel; that they were set + down in the very midst of that care-free little company that frolicked + through Italy, climbed wearily the arid Syrian hills. They are all dead + now; but to us they are as alive and young to-day as when they followed + the footprints of the Son of Man through Palestine, and stood at last + before the Sphinx, impressed and awed by its “five thousand + slow-revolving years.” + </p> + <p> + Some of the items consist of no more than a few terse, suggestive words—serious, + humorous, sometimes profane. Others are statistical, descriptive, + elaborated. Also there are drawings—“not copied,” he + marks them, with a pride not always justified by the result. The earlier + notes are mainly comments on the “pilgrims,” the freak + pilgrims: “the Frenchy-looking woman who owns a dog and keeps up an + interminable biography of him to the passengers”; the “long-legged, + simple, wide-mouthed, horse-laughing young fellow who once made a sea + voyage to Fortress Monroe, and quotes eternally from his experiences”; + also, there is reference to another young man, “good, accommodating, + pleasant but fearfully green.” This young person would become the + “Interrogation Point,” in due time, and have his picture on + page 71 (old edition), while opposite him, on page 70, would appear the + “oracle," identified as one Doctor Andrews, who (the note-book says) + had the habit of “smelling in guide-books for knowledge and then + trying to play it for old information that has been festering in his + brain.” Sometimes there are abstract notes such as: + </p> + <p> + How lucky Adam was. He knew when he said a good thing that no one had ever + said it before. + </p> + <p> + Of the “character” notes, the most important and elaborated is + that which presents the “Poet Lariat.” This is the entry, + somewhat epitomized: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + BLOODGOOD H. CUTTER + + He is fifty years old, and small of his age. He dresses in + homespun, and is a simple-minded, honest, old-fashioned farmer, with + a strange proclivity for writing rhymes. He writes them on all + possible subjects, and gets them printed on slips of paper, with his + portrait at the head. These he will give to any man who comes + along, whether he has anything against him or not.... + + Dan said: + + “It must be a great happiness to you to sit down at the close of day + and put its events all down in rhymes and poetry, like Byron and + Shakespeare and those fellows.” + + “Oh yes, it is—it is—Why, many's the time I've had to get up in + the night when it comes on me: + + Whether we're on the sea or the land + We've all got to go at the word of command— + + “Hey! how's that?” + </pre> + <p> + A curious character was Cutter—a Long Island farmer with the + obsession of rhyme. In his old age, in an interview, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Mark was generally writing and he was glum. He would write what we + were doing, and I would write poetry, and Mark would say: + </p> + <p> + “'For Heaven's sake, Cutter, keep your poems to yourself.' + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mark was pretty glum, and he was generally writing.” + </p> + <p> + Poor old Poet Lariat—dead now with so many others of that happy + crew. We may believe that Mark learned to be “glum” when he + saw the Lariat approaching with his sheaf of rhymes. We may believe, too, + that he was “generally writing.” He contributed fifty-three + letters to the Alta during that five months and six to the Tribune. They + would average about two columns nonpareil each, which is to say four + thousand words, or something like two hundred and fifty thousand words in + all. To turn out an average of fifteen hundred words a day, with + continuous sight-seeing besides, one must be generally writing during any + odd intervals; those who are wont to regard Mark Twain as lazy may + consider these statistics. That he detested manual labor is true enough, + but at the work for which he was fitted and intended it may be set down + here upon authority (and despite his own frequent assertions to the + contrary) that to his last year he was the most industrious of men. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0066" id="link2H_4_0066"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LXI. THE INNOCENTS ABROAD + </h2> + <p> + It was Dan, Jack, and the Doctor who with Mark Twain wandered down through + Italy and left moral footprints that remain to this day. The Italian + guides are wary about showing pieces of the True Cross, fragments of the + Crown of Thorns, and the bones of saints since then. They show them, it is + true, but with a smile; the name of Mark Twain is a touch-stone to test + their statements. Not a guide in Italy but has heard the tale of that + iconoclastic crew, and of the book which turned their marvels into myths, + their relics into bywords. + </p> + <p> + It was Doctor Jackson, Colonel Denny, Doctor Birch, and Samuel Clemens who + evaded the quarantine and made the perilous night trip to Athens and + looked upon the Parthenon and the sleeping city by moonlight. It is all + set down in the notes, and the account varies little from that given in + the book; only he does not tell us that Captain Duncan and the + quartermaster, Pratt, connived at the escapade, or how the latter watched + the shore in anxious suspense until he heard the whistle which was their + signal to be taken aboard. It would have meant six months' imprisonment if + they had been captured, for there was no discretion in the Greek law. + </p> + <p> + It was T. D. Crocker, A. N. Sanford, Col. Peter Kinney, and William Gibson + who were delegated to draft the address to the Emperor of Russia at Yalta, + with Samuel L. Clemens as chairman of that committee. The chairman wrote + the address, the opening sentence of which he grew so weary of hearing: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We are a handful of private citizens of America, traveling simply + for recreation, and unostentatiously, as becomes our unofficial + state. +</pre> + <p> + The address is all set down in the notes, and there also exists the first + rough draft, with the emendations in his own hand. He deplores the time it + required: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + That job is over. Writing addresses to emperors is not my strong + suit. However, if it is not as good as it might be it doesn't + signify—the other committeemen ought to have helped me write it; + they had nothing to do, and I had my hands full. But for bothering + with this I would have caught up entirely with my New York Tribune + correspondence and nearly up with the San Francisco. +</pre> + <p> + They wanted him also to read the address to the Emperor, but he pointed + out that the American consul was the proper person for that office. He + tells how the address was presented: + </p> + <p> + August 26th. The Imperial carriages were in waiting at eleven, and at + twelve we were at the palace.... + </p> + <p> + The Consul for Odessa read the address and the Czar said frequently, + “Good—very good; indeed”—and at the close, “I + am very, very grateful.” + </p> + <p> + It was not improper for him to set down all this, and much more, in his + own note-book—not then for publication. It was in fact a very proper + record—for today. + </p> + <p> + One incident of the imperial audience Mark Twain omitted from his book, + perhaps because the humor of it had not yet become sufficiently evident. + “The humorous perception of a thing is a pretty slow growth + sometimes,” he once remarked. It was about seventeen years before he + could laugh enjoyably at a slight mistake he made at the Emperor's + reception. He set down a memorandum of it, then, for fear it might be + lost: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There were a number of great dignitaries of the Empire there, and + although, as a general thing, they were dressed in citizen's + clothing, I observed that the most of them wore a very small piece + of ribbon in the lapels of their coats. That little touch of color + struck my fancy, and it seemed to me a good idea to add it to my own + attractions; not imagining that it had any special significance. So + I stepped aside, hunted up a bit of red ribbon, and ornamented my + lapel with it. Presently, Count Festetics, the Grand Master of + ceremonies, and the only man there who was gorgeously arrayed, in + full official costume, began to show me a great many attentions. He + was particularly polite, and pleasant, and anxious to be of service + to me. Presently, he asked me what order of nobility I belonged to? + I said, “I didn't belong to any.” Then he asked me what order of + knighthood I belonged to? I said, “None.” Then he asked me what + the red ribbon in my buttonhole stood for? I saw, at once, what an + ass I had been making of myself, and was accordingly confused and + embarrassed. I said the first thing that came into my mind, and + that was that the ribbon was merely the symbol of a club of + journalists to which I belonged, and I was not pursued with any more + of Count Festetic's attentions. + + Later, I got on very familiar terms with an old gentleman, whom I + took to be the head gardener, and walked him all about the gardens, + slipping my arm into his without invitation, yet without demur on + his part, and by and by was confused again when I found that he was + not a gardener at all, but the Lord High Admiral of Russia! I + almost made up my mind that I would never call on an Emperor again. +</pre> + <p> + Like all Mediterranean excursionists, those first pilgrims were insatiable + collectors of curios, costumes, and all manner of outlandish things. Dan + Slote had the stateroom hung and piled with such gleanings. At + Constantinople his room-mate writes: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I thought Dan had got the state-room pretty full of rubbish at last, + but awhile ago his dragoman arrived with a brand-new ghastly + tombstone of the Oriental pattern, with his name handsomely carved + and gilted on it in Turkish characters. That fellow will buy a + Circassian slave next. +</pre> + <p> + It was Church, Denny, Jack, Davis, Dan, Moult, and Mark Twain who made the + “long trip” through Syria from Beirut to Jerusalem with their + elaborate camping outfit and decrepit nags “Jericho,” “Baalbec,” + and the rest. It was better camping than that Humboldt journey of six + years before, though the horses were not so dissimilar, and altogether it + was a hard, nerve-racking experience, climbing the arid hills of Palestine + in that torrid summer heat. Nobody makes that trip in summer-time now. + Tourists hurry out of Syria before the first of April, and they do not go + back before November. One brief quotation from Mark Twain's book gives us + an idea of what that early party of pilgrims had to undergo: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We left Damascus at noon and rode across the plain a couple of + hours, and then the party stopped a while in the shade of some fig- + trees to give me a chance to rest. It was the hottest day we had + seen yet—the sun-flames shot down like the shafts of fire that + stream out before a blow-pipe; the rays seemed to fall in a deluge + on the head and pass downward like rain from a roof. I imagined I + could distinguish between the floods of rays. I thought I could + tell when each flood struck my head, when it reached my shoulders, + and when the next one came. It was terrible. +</pre> + <p> + He had been ill with cholera at Damascus, a light attack; but any attack + of that dread disease is serious enough. He tells of this in the book, but + he does not mention, either in the book or in his notes, the attack which + Dan Slote had some days later. It remained for William F. Church, of the + party, to relate that incident, for it was the kind of thing that Mark + Twain was not likely to record, or even to remember. Doctor Church was a + deacon with orthodox views and did not approve of Mark Twain; he thought + him sinful, irreverent, profane. + </p> + <p> + “He was the worst man I ever knew,” Church said; then he + added, “And the best.” + </p> + <p> + What happened was this: At the end of a terrible day of heat, when the + party had camped on the edge of a squalid Syrian village, Dan was taken + suddenly ill. It was cholera, beyond doubt. Dan could not go on—he + might never go on. The chances were that way. It was a serious matter all + around. To wait with Dan meant to upset their travel schedule—it + might mean to miss the ship. Consultation was held and a resolution passed + (the pilgrims were always passing resolutions) to provide for Dan as well + as possible, and leave him behind. Clemens, who had remained with Dan, + suddenly appeared and said: + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen, I understand that you are going to leave Dan Slote here + alone. I'll be d—-d if I do!” + </p> + <p> + And he didn't. He stayed there and brought Dan into Jerusalem, a few days + late, but convalescent. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps most of them were not always reverent during that Holy Land trip. + It was a trying journey, and after fierce days of desert hills the + reaction might not always spare even the holiest memories. Jack was + particularly sinful. When they learned the price for a boat on Galilee, + and the deacons who had traveled nearly half around the world to sail on + that sacred water were confounded by the charge, Jack said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, Denny, do you wonder now that Christ walked?” + </p> + <p> + It was the irreverent Jack who one morning (they had camped the night + before by the ruins of Jericho) refused to get up to see the sun rise + across the Jordan. Deacon Church went to his tent. + </p> + <p> + “Jack, my boy, get up. Here is the place where the Israelites + crossed over into the Promised Land, and beyond are the mountains of Moab, + where Moses lies buried.” + </p> + <p> + “Moses who!” said Jack. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Jack, my boy, Moses, the great lawgiver—who led the + Israelites out of Egypt-forty years through the wilderness—to the + Promised Land.” + </p> + <p> + “Forty years!” said Jack. “How far was it?” + </p> + <p> + “It was three hundred miles, Jack; a great wilderness, and he + brought them through in safety.” + </p> + <p> + Jack regarded him with scorn. “Huh, Moses—three hundred miles + forty years—why, Ben Holiday would have brought them through in + thirty-six hours!”—[Ben Holiday, owner of the Overland stages, + and a man of great executive ability. This incident, a true one, is more + elaborately told in Roughing It, but it seems pertinent here.] + </p> + <p> + Jack probably learned more about the Bible during that trip-its history + and its heroes-than during all his former years. Nor was Jack the only one + of that group thus benefited. The sacred landmarks of Palestine inspire a + burning interest in the Scriptures, and Mark Twain probably did not now + regret those early Sunday-school lessons; certainly he did not fail to + review them exhaustively on that journey. His note-books fairly overflow + with Bible references; the Syrian chapters in The Innocents Abroad are + permeated with the poetry and legendary beauty of the Bible story. The + little Bible he carried on that trip, bought in Constantinople, was well + worn by the time they reached the ship again at Jaffa. He must have read + it with a large and persistent interest; also with a double benefit. For, + besides the knowledge acquired, he was harvesting a profit—probably + unsuspected at the time—-viz., the influence of the most direct and + beautiful English—the English of the King James version—which + could not fail to affect his own literary method at that impressionable + age. We have already noted his earlier admiration for that noble and + simple poem, “The Burial of Moses,” which in the Palestine + note-book is copied in full. All the tendency of his expression lay that + way, and the intense consideration of stately Bible phrase and imagery + could hardly fail to influence his mental processes. The very distinct + difference of style, as shown in The Innocents Abroad and in his earlier + writings, we may believe was in no small measure due to his study of the + King James version during those weeks in Palestine. + </p> + <p> + He bought another Bible at Jerusalem; but it was not for himself. It was a + little souvenir volume bound in olive and balsam wood, and on the fly-leaf + is inscribed: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mrs. Jane Clemens from her son. Jerusalem, Sept. 24, 1867. +</pre> + <p> + There is one more circumstance of that long cruise-recorded neither in the + book nor the notes—an incident brief, but of more importance in the + life of Samuel Clemens than any heretofore set down. It occurred in the + beautiful Bay of Smyrna, on the fifth or sixth of September, while the + vessel lay there for the Ephesus trip. + </p> + <p> + Reference has been made to young Charles Langdon, of Elmira (the “Charley” + once mentioned in the Innocents), as an admirer of Mark Twain. There was a + good deal of difference in their ages, and they were seldom of the same + party; but sometimes the boy invited the journalist to his cabin and, + boy-like, exhibited his treasures. He had two sisters at home; and of + Olivia, the youngest, he had brought a dainty miniature done on ivory in + delicate tints—a sweet-pictured countenance, fine and spiritual. On + that fateful day in the day of Smyrna, Samuel Clemens, visiting in young + Langdon's cabin, was shown this portrait. He looked at it with long + admiration, and spoke of it reverently, for the delicate face seemed to + him to be something more than a mere human likeness. Each time he came, + after that, he asked to see the picture, and once even begged to be + allowed to take it away with him. The boy would not agree to this, and the + elder man looked long and steadily at the miniature, resolving in his mind + that some day he would meet the owner of that lovely face—a purpose + for once in accord with that which the fates had arranged for him, in the + day when all things were arranged, the day of the first beginning. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0067" id="link2H_4_0067"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LXII. THE RETURN OF THE PILGRIMS + </h2> + <h3> + The last note-book entry bears date of October 11th: + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + At sea, somewhere in the neighborhood of Malta. Very stormy. + + Terrible death to be talked to death. The storm has blown two small + land birds and a hawk to sea and they came on board. Sea full of + flying-fish. +</pre> + <p> + That is all. There is no record of the week's travel in Spain, which a + little group of four made under the picturesque Gibraltar guide, Benunes, + still living and quite as picturesque at last accounts. This side-trip is + covered in a single brief paragraph in the Innocents, and the only account + we have of it is in a home letter, from Cadiz, of October 24th: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We left Gibraltar at noon and rode to Algeciras (4 hours), thus + dodging the quarantine—took dinner, and then rode horseback all + night in a swinging trot, and at daylight took a caleche (a-wheeled + vehicle), and rode 5 hours—then took cars and traveled till twelve + at night. That landed us at Seville, and we were over the hard part + of our trip and somewhat tired. Since then we have taken things + comparatively easy, drifting around from one town to another and + attracting a good deal of attention—for I guess strangers do not + wander through Andalusia and the other southern provinces of Spain + often. The country is precisely what it was when Don Quixote and + Sancho Panza were possible characters. + + But I see now what the glory of Spain must have been when it was + under Moorish domination. No, I will not say that—but then when + one is carried away, infatuated, entranced, with the wonders of the + Alhambra and the supernatural beauty of the Alcazar, he is apt to + overflow with admiration for the splendid intellects that created + them. +</pre> + <p> + We may wish that he had left us a chapter of that idyllic journey, but it + will never be written now. A night or two before the vessel reached New + York there was the usual good-by assembly, and for this occasion, at Mrs. + Severance's request, Mark Twain wrote some verses. They were not + especially notable, for meter and rhyme did not come easy to him, but one + prophetic stanza is worth remembering. In the opening lines the passengers + are referred to as a fleet of vessels, then follows: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Lo! other ships of that parted fleet + Shall suffer this fate or that: + One shall be wrecked, another shall sink, + Or ground on treacherous flat. + Some shall be famed in many lands + As good ships, fast and fair, + And some shall strangely disappear, + Men know not when or where. +</pre> + <p> + The Quaker City returned to America on November 19, 1867, and Mark Twain + found himself, if not famous, at least in very wide repute. The + fifty-three letters to the Alta and the half-dozen to the New York Tribune + had carried his celebrity into every corner of the States and Territories. + Vivid, fearless, full of fresh color, humor, poetry, they came as a + revelation to a public weary of the driveling, tiresome travel-letters of + that period. They preached a new gospel in travel-literature: the gospel + of seeing with an overflowing honesty; a gospel of sincerity in according + praises to whatever seemed genuine, and ridicule to the things considered + sham. It was the gospel that Mark Twain would continue to preach during + his whole career. It became his chief literary message to the world-a + world waiting for that message. + </p> + <p> + Moreover, the letters were literature. He had received, from whatever + source, a large and very positive literary impulse, a loftier conception + and expression. It was at Tangier that he first struck the grander chord, + the throbbing cadence of human story. + </p> + <p> + Here is a crumbling wall that was old when Columbus discovered America; + old when Peter the Hermit roused the knightly men of the Middle Ages to + arm for the first Crusade; old when Charlemagne and his paladins + beleaguered enchanted castles and battled with giants and genii in the + fabled days of the olden time; old when Christ and his disciples walked + the earth; stood where it stands to-day when the lips of Memnon were vocal + and men bought and sold in the streets of ancient Thebes. + </p> + <p> + This is pure poetry. He had never touched so high a strain before, but he + reached it often after that, and always with an ever-increasing mastery + and confidence. In Venice, in Rome, in Athens, through the Holy Land, his + retrospection becomes a stately epic symphony, a processional crescendo + that swings ever higher until it reaches that sublime strain, the ageless + contemplation of the Sphinx. We cannot forego a paragraph or two of that + word-picture: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + After years of waiting it was before me at last. The great face was + so sad, so earnest, so longing, so patient. There was a dignity not + of earth in its mien, and in its countenance a benignity such as + never anything human wore. It was stone, but it seemed sentient. + If ever image of stone thought, it was thinking. It was looking + toward the verge of the landscape, yet looking at nothing—nothing + but distance and vacancy. It was looking over and beyond everything + of the present, and far into the past.... It was thinking of the + wars of the departed ages; of the empires it had seen created and + destroyed; of the nations whose birth it had witnessed, whose + progress it had watched, whose annihilation it had noted; of the joy + and sorrow, the life and death, the grandeur and decay, of five + thousand slow-revolving years.... + + The Sphinx is grand in its loneliness; it is imposing in its + magnitude; it is impressive in the mystery that hangs over its + story. And there is that in the overshadowing majesty of this + eternal figure of stone, with its accusing memory of the deeds of + all ages, which reveals to one something of what we shall feel when + we shall stand at last in the awful presence of God. +</pre> + <p> + Then that closing word of Egypt. He elaborated it for the book, and did + not improve it. Let us preserve here its original form. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We are glad to have seen Egypt. We are glad to have seen that old + land which taught Greece her letters—and through Greece, Rome—and + through Rome, the world—that venerable cradle of culture and + refinement which could have humanized and civilized the Children of + Israel, but allowed them to depart out of her borders savages—those + Children whom we still revere, still love, and whose sad + shortcomings we still excuse—not because they were savages, but + because they were the chosen savages of God. +</pre> + <p> + The Holy Land letters alone would have brought him fame. They presented + the most graphic and sympathetic picture of Syrian travel ever written—one + that will never become antiquated or obsolete so long as human nature + remains unchanged. From beginning to end the tale is rarely, reverently + told. Its closing paragraph has not been surpassed in the voluminous + literature of that solemn land: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Palestine sits in sackcloth and ashes. Over it broods the spell of + a curse that has withered its fields and fettered its energies. + Where Sodom and Gomorrah reared their domes and towers that solemn + sea now floods the plain, in whose bitter waters no living thing + exists—over whose waveless surface the blistering air hangs + motionless and dead—about whose borders nothing grows but weeds and + scattering tufts of cane, and that treacherous fruit that promises + refreshment to parching lips, but turns to ashes at the touch. + Nazareth is forlorn; about that ford of Jordan where the hosts of + Israel entered the Promised Land with songs of rejoicing one finds + only a squalid camp of fantastic Bedouins of the desert; Jericho the + accursed lies a moldering ruin today, even as Joshua's miracle left + it more than three thousand years ago; Bethlehem and Bethany, in + their poverty and their humiliation, have nothing about them now to + remind one that they once knew the high honor of the Saviour's + presence; the hallowed spot where the shepherds watched their flocks + by night, and where the angels sang Peace on earth, goodwill to men, + is untenanted by any living creature, and unblessed by any feature + that is pleasant to the eye. Renowned Jerusalem itself, the + stateliest name in history, has lost all its ancient grandeur, and + is become a pauper village; the riches of Solomon are no longer + there to compel the admiration of visiting Oriental queens; the + wonderful temple which was the pride and the glory of Israel is + gone, and the Ottoman crescent is lifted above the spot where, on + that most memorable day in the annals of the world, they reared the + Holy Cross. The noted Sea of Galilee, where Roman fleets once rode + at anchor and the disciples of the Saviour sailed in their ships, + was long ago deserted by the devotees of war and commerce, and its + borders are a silent wilderness; Capernaum is a shapeless ruin; + Magdala is the home of beggared Arabs; Bethsaida and Chorazin have + vanished from the earth, and the “desert places” round about them + where thousands of men once listened to the Saviour's voice and ate + the miraculous bread sleep in the hush of a solitude that is + inhabited only by birds of prey and skulking foxes. + + Palestine is desolate and unlovely. And why should it be otherwise? + Can the curse of the Deity beautify a land? +</pre> + <p> + It would be easy to quote pages here—a pictorial sequence from + Gibraltar to Athens, from Athens to Egypt, a radiant panoramic march. In + time he would write technically better. He would avoid solecism, he would + become a greater master of vocabulary and phrase, but in all the years + ahead he would never match the lambent bloom and spontaneity of those + fresh, first impressions of Mediterranean lands and seas. No need to + mention the humor, the burlesque, the fearless, unrestrained ridicule of + old masters and of sacred relics, so called. These we have kept familiar + with much repetition. Only, the humor had grown more subtle, more + restrained; the burlesque had become impersonal and harmless, the ridicule + so frank and good-natured, that even the old masters themselves might have + enjoyed it, while the most devoted churchman, unless blinded by bigotry, + would find in it satisfaction, rather than sacrilege. + </p> + <p> + The final letter was written for the New York Herald after the arrival, + and was altogether unlike those that preceded it. Gaily satirical and + personal—inclusively so—it might better have been left + unwritten, for it would seem to have given needless offense to a number of + goodly people, whose chief sin was the sedateness of years. However, it is + all past now, and those who were old then, and perhaps queer and pious and + stingy, do not mind any more, and those who were young and frivolous have + all grown old too, and most of them have set out on the still farther + voyage. Somewhere, it may be, they gather, now; and then, and lightly, + tenderly recall their old-time journeying. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0068" id="link2H_4_0068"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LXIII. IN WASHINGTON—A PUBLISHING PROPOSITION + </h2> + <p> + Clemens remained but one day in New York. Senator Stewart had written, + about the time of the departure of the Quaker City, offering him the + position of private secretary—a position which was to give him + leisure for literary work, with a supporting salary as well. Stewart no + doubt thought it would be considerably to his advantage to have the + brilliant writer and lecturer attached to his political establishment, and + Clemens likewise saw possibilities in the arrangement. From Naples, in + August, he had written accepting Stewart's offer; he lost no time now in + discussing the matter in person.—[In a letter home, August 9th, he + referred to the arrangement: “I wrote to Bill Stewart to-day + accepting his private secretaryship in Washington, next winter.”] + </p> + <p> + There seems to have been little difficulty in concluding the arrangement. + When Clemens had been in Washington a week we find him writing: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR FOLKS, Tired and sleepy—been in Congress all day and making + newspaper acquaintances. Stewart is to look up a clerkship in the + Patent Office for Orion. Things necessarily move slowly where there + is so much business and such armies of office-seekers to be attended + to. I guess it will be all right. I intend it shall be all right. + + I have 18 invitations to lecture, at $100 each, in various parts + of the Union—have declined them all. I am for business now. + + Belong on the Tribune Staff, and shall write occasionally. Am + offered the same berth to-day on the Herald by letter. Shall write + Mr. Bennett and accept, as soon as I hear from Tribune that it will + not interfere. Am pretty well known now—intend to be better known. + Am hobnobbing with these old Generals and Senators and other humbugs + for no good purpose. Don't have any more trouble making friends + than I did in California. All serene. Good-by. Shall continue on + the Alta. + Yours affectionately, + SAM. + + P.S.—I room with Bill Stewart and board at Willard's Hotel. +</pre> + <p> + But the secretary arrangement was a brief matter. It is impossible to + conceive of Mark Twain as anybody's secretary, especially as the secretary + of Senator Stewart. —[In Senator Stewart's memoirs he refers + unpleasantly to Mark Twain, and after relating several incidents that bear + only strained relations to the truth, states that when the writer returned + from the Holy Land he (Stewart) offered him a secretaryship as a sort of + charity. He adds that Mark Twain's behavior on his premises was such that + a threat of a thrashing was necessary. The reason for such statements + becomes apparent, however, when he adds that in 'Roughing It' the author + accuses him of cheating, prints a picture of him with a hatch over his + eye, and claims to have given him a sound thrashing, none of which + statements, save only the one concerning the picture (an apparently + unforgivable offense to his dignity), is true, as the reader may easily + ascertain for himself.] + </p> + <p> + Within a few weeks he was writing humorous accounts of “My Late + Senatorial Secretaryship,” “Facts Concerning the Recent + Resignation,” etc., all good-natured burlesque, but inspired, we may + believe, by the change: These articles appeared in the New York Tribune, + the New York Citizen, and the Galaxy Magazine. + </p> + <p> + There appears to have been no ill-feeling at this time between Clemens and + Stewart. If so, it is not discoverable in any of the former's personal or + newspaper correspondence. In fact, in his article relating to his “late + senatorial secretaryship” he puts the joke, so far as it is a joke, + on Senator James W. Nye, probably as an additional punishment for Nye's + failure to appear on the night of his lecture. He established headquarters + with a brilliant newspaper correspondent named Riley. “One of the + best men in Washington—or elsewhere,” he tells us in a brief + sketch of that person.—[See Riley, newspaper correspondent. Sketches + New and Old.]—He had known Riley in San Francisco; the two were + congenial, and settled down to their several undertakings. + </p> + <p> + Clemens was chiefly concerned over two things: he wished to make money and + he wished to secure a government appointment for Orion. He had used up the + most of his lecture accumulations, and was moderately in debt. His work + was in demand at good rates, for those days, and with working opportunity + he could presently dispose of his financial problem. The Tribune was + anxious for letters; the Enterprise and Alta were waiting for them; the + Herald, the Chicago Tribune, the magazines—all had solicited + contributions; the lecture bureaus pursued him. Personally his outlook was + bright. + </p> + <p> + The appointment for Orion was a different matter. The powers were not + especially interested in a brother; there were too many brothers and + assorted relatives on the official waiting-list already. Clemens was + offered appointments for himself—a consulship, a post-mastership; + even that of San Francisco. From the Cabinet down, the Washington + political contingent had read his travel-letters, and was ready to + recognize officially the author of them in his own person and personality. + </p> + <p> + Also, socially: Mark Twain found himself all at once in the midst of + receptions, dinners, and speech-making; all very exciting for a time at + least, but not profitable, not conducive to work. At a dinner of the + Washington Correspondents Club his response to the toast, “Women,” + was pronounced by Schuyler Colfax to be “the best after dinner + speech ever made.” Certainly it was a refreshing departure from the + prosy or clumsy-witted efforts common to that period. He was coming + altogether into his own.—[This is the first of Mark Twain's + after-dinner speeches to be preserved. The reader will find it complete, + as reported next day, in Appendix G, at the end of last volume.] + </p> + <p> + He was not immediately interested in the matter of book publication. The + Jumping Frog book was popular, and in England had been issued by + Routledge; but the royalty returns were modest enough and slow in arrival. + His desire was for prompter results. His interest in book publication had + never been an eager one, and related mainly to the advertising it would + furnish, which he did not now need; or to the money return, in which he + had no great faith. Yet at this very moment a letter for him was lying in + the Tribune office in New York which would bring the book idea into first + prominence and spell the beginning of his fortune. + </p> + <p> + Among those who had read and found delight in the Tribune letters was + Elisha Bliss, Jr., of the American Publishing Company, of Hartford. Bliss + was a shrewd and energetic man, with a keen appreciation for humor and the + American fondness for that literary quality. He had recently undertaken + the management of a Hartford concern, and had somewhat alarmed its + conservative directorate by publishing books that furnished entertainment + to the reader as well as moral instruction. Only his success in paying + dividends justified this heresy and averted his downfall. Two days after + the arrival of the Quaker City Bliss wrote the letter above mentioned. It + ran as follows: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + OFFICE OF THE AMERICAN PUBLISHING CO. + HARTFORD, CONN., November 21, 1867. +</pre> + <p> + SAMUEL L. CLEMENS, ESQ., Tribune Office, New York. + </p> + <p> + DEAR SIR,—We take the liberty to address you this, in place of a + letter which we had recently written and were about to forward to you, not + knowing your arrival home was expected so soon. We are desirous of + obtaining from you a work of some kind, perhaps compiled from your letters + from the past, etc., with such interesting additions as may be proper. We + are the publishers of A. D. Richardson's works, and flatter ourselves that + we can give an author a favorable term and do as full justice to his + productions as any other house in the country. We are perhaps the oldest + subscription house in the country, and have never failed to give a book an + immense circulation. We sold about 100,000 copies of Richardson's F. D. + and E. ('Field, Dungeon and Escape'), and are now printing 41,000 of + 'Beyond the Mississippi', and large orders ahead. If you have any thought + of writing a book, or could be induced to do so, we should be pleased to + see you, and will do so. Will you do us the favor of reply at once, at + your earliest convenience. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Very truly etc., + + E. BLISS, JR., + Secretary. +</pre> + <p> + After ten days' delay this letter was forwarded to the Tribune bureau in + Washington, where Clemens received it. He replied promptly. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + WASHINGTON, December 2, 1867. +</pre> + <p> + E. BLISS, JR., ESQ., Secretary American Publishing Co. + </p> + <p> + DEAR SIR,—I only received your favor of November 21st last night, at + the rooms of the Tribune Bureau here. It was forwarded from the Tribune + office, New York where it had lain eight or ten days. This will be a + sufficient apology for the seeming discourtesy of my silence. + </p> + <p> + I wrote fifty-two letters for the San Francisco Alta California during the + Quaker City excursion, about half of which number have been printed thus + far. The Alta has few exchanges in the East, and I suppose scarcely any of + these letters have been copied on this side of the Rocky Mountains. I + could weed them of their chief faults of construction and inelegancies of + expression, and make a volume that would be more acceptable in many + respects than any I could now write. When those letters were written my + impressions were fresh, but now they have lost that freshness; they were + warm then, they are cold now. I could strike out certain letters, and + write new ones wherewith to supply their places. If you think such a book + would suit your purpose, please drop me a line, specifying the size and + general style of the volume—when the matter ought to be ready; + whether it should have pictures in it or not; and particularly what your + terms with me would be, and what amount of money I might possibly make out + of it. The latter clause has a degree of importance for me which is almost + beyond my own comprehension. But you understand that, of course. + </p> + <p> + I have other propositions for a book, but have doubted the propriety of + interfering with good newspaper engagements, except my way as an author + could be demonstrated to be plain before me. But I know Richardson, and + learned from him some months ago something of an idea of the subscription + plan of publishing. If that is your plan invariably it looks safe. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +I am on the New York Tribune staff here as an “occasional,” among other +things, and a note from you addressed to Very truly, etc., + SAM. L. CLEMENS, + New York Tribune Bureau, Washington +will find me, without fail. +</pre> + <p> + The exchange of those two letters marked the beginning of one of the most + notable publishing connections in American literary history. + </p> + <p> + Consummation, however, was somewhat delayed. Bliss was ill when the reply + came, and could not write again in detail until nearly a month later. In + this letter he recited the profits made by Richardson and others through + subscription publication, and named the royalties paid. Richardson had + received four per cent. of the sale price, a small enough rate for these + later days; but the cost of manufacture was larger then, and the sale and + delivery of books through agents has ever been an expensive process. Even + Horace Greeley had received but a fraction more on his Great American + Conflict. Bliss especially suggested and emphasized a “humorous work—that + is to say, a work humorously inclined.” He added that they had two + arrangements for paying authors: outright purchase, and royalty. He + invited a meeting in New York to arrange terms. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0069" id="link2H_4_0069"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LXIV. OLIVIA LANGDON + </h2> + <p> + Clemens did in fact go to New York that same evening, to spend Christmas + with Dan Slote, and missed Bliss's second letter. It was no matter. Fate + had his affairs properly in hand, and had prepared an event of still + larger moment than the publication even of Innocents Abroad. There was a + pleasant reunion at Dan Slote's. He wrote home about it: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Charley Langdon, Jack Van Nostrand, Dan and I (all Quaker City + night-hawks) had a blow-out at Dan's house and a lively talk over + old times. I just laughed till my sides ached at some of our + reminiscences. It was the unholiest gang that ever cavorted through + Palestine, but those are the best boys in the world. +</pre> + <p> + This, however, was not the event; it was only preliminary to it. We are + coming to that now. At the old St. Nicholas Hotel, which stood on the west + of Broadway between Spring and Broome streets, there were stopping at this + time Jervis Langdon, a wealty coal-dealer and mine-owner of Elmira, his + son Charles and his daughter Olivia, whose pictured face Samuel Clemens + had first seen in the Bay of Smyrna one September day. Young Langdon had + been especially anxious to bring his distinguished Quaker City friend and + his own people together, and two days before Christmas Samuel Clemens was + invited to dine at the hotel. He went very willingly. The lovely face of + that miniature had been often a part of his waking dreams. For the first + time now he looked upon its reality. Long afterward he said: + </p> + <p> + “It is forty years ago. From that day to this she has never been out + of my mind.” + </p> + <p> + Charles Dickens was in New York then, and gave a reading that night in + Steinway Hall. The Langdons went, and Samuel Clemens accompanied them. He + remembered afterward that Dickens wore a black velvet coat with a fiery + red flower in his buttonhole, and that he read the storm scene from + Copperfield—the death of James Steerforth. But he remembered still + more clearly the face and dress of that slender girlish figure at his + side. + </p> + <p> + Olivia Langdon was twenty-two years old at this time, delicate as the + miniature he had seen, fragile to look upon, though no longer with the + shattered health of her girlhood. At sixteen, through a fall upon the ice, + she had become a complete invalid, confined to her bed for two years, + unable to sit, even when supported, unable to lie in any position except + upon her back. Great physicians and surgeons, one after another, had done + their best for her but she had failed steadily until every hope had died. + Then, when nothing else was left to try, a certain Doctor Newton, of + spectacular celebrity, who cured by “laying on of hands,” was + brought to Elmira to see her. Doctor Newton came into the darkened room + and said: + </p> + <p> + “Open the windows—we must have light!” + </p> + <p> + They protested that she could not bear the light, but the windows were + opened. Doctor Newton came to the bedside of the helpless girl, delivered + a short, fervent prayer, put his arm under her shoulders, and bade her sit + up. She had not moved for two years, and the family were alarmed, but she + obeyed, and he assisted her into a chair. Sensation came back to her + limbs. With his assistance she even made a feeble attempt to walk. He left + then, saying that she would gradually improve, and in time be well, though + probably never very strong. On the same day he healed a boy, crippled and + drawn with fever. + </p> + <p> + It turned out as he had said. Olivia Langdon improved steadily, and now at + twenty-two, though not robust—she was never that—she was + comparatively well. Gentle, winning, lovable, she was the family idol, and + Samuel Clemens joined in their worship from the moment of that first + meeting. + </p> + <p> + Olivia Langdon, on her part, was at first dazed and fascinated, rather + than attracted, by this astonishing creature, so unlike any one she had + ever known. Her life had been circumscribed, her experiences of a simple + sort. She had never seen anything resembling him before. Indeed, nobody + had. Somewhat carelessly, even if correctly, attired; eagerly, rather than + observantly, attentive; brilliant and startling, rather than cultured, of + speech—a blazing human solitaire, unfashioned, unset, tossed by the + drift of fortune at her feet. He disturbed rather than gratified her. She + sensed his heresy toward the conventions and forms which had been her + gospel; his bantering, indifferent attitude toward life—to her + always so serious and sacred; she suspected that he even might have + unorthodox views on matters of religion. When he had gone she somehow had + the feeling that a great fiery meteor of unknown portent had swept across + her sky. + </p> + <p> + To her brother, who was eager for her approval of his celebrity, Miss + Langdon conceded admiration. As for her father, he did not qualify his + opinion. With hearty sense of humor, and a keen perception of verity and + capability in men, Jervis Langdon accepted Samuel Clemens from the start, + and remained his stanch admirer and friend. Clemens left that night with + an invitation to visit Elmira by and by, and with the full intention of + going—soon. Fate, however, had another plan. He did not see Elmira + for the better part of a year. + </p> + <p> + He saw Miss Langdon again within the week. On New-Year's Day he set forth + to pay calls, after the fashion of the time—more lavish then than + now. Miss Langdon was receiving with Miss Alice Hooker, a niece of Henry + Ward Beecher, at the home of a Mrs. Berry; he decided to go there first. + With young Langdon he arrived at eleven o'clock in the morning, and they + did not leave until midnight. If his first impression upon Olivia Langdon + had been meteoric, it would seem that he must now have become to her as a + streaming comet that swept from zenith to horizon. One thing is certain: + she had become to him the single, unvarying beacon of his future years. He + visited Henry Ward Beecher on that trip and dined with him by invitation. + Harriet Beecher Stowe was present, and others of that eminent family. + Likewise his old Quaker City comrades, Moses S. and Emma Beach. It was a + brilliant gathering, a conclave of intellectual gods—a triumph to be + there for one who had been a printer-boy on the banks of the Mississippi, + and only a little while before a miner with pick and shovel. It was + gratifying to be so honored; it would be pleasant to write home; but the + occasion lacked something too—everything, in fact—for when he + ran his eye around the board the face of the minature was not there. + </p> + <p> + Still there were compensations; inadequate, of course, but pleasant enough + to remember. It was Sunday evening and the party adjourned to Plymouth + Church. After services Mr. Beecher invited him to return home with him for + a quiet talk. Evidently they had a good time, for in the letter telling of + these things Samuel Clemens said: “Henry Ward Beecher is a brick.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0070" id="link2H_4_0070"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LXV. A CONTRACT WITH ELISHA BLISS, JR. + </h2> + <p> + He returned to Washington without seeing Miss Langdon again, though he + would seem to have had permission to write—friendly letters. A + little later (it was on the evening of January 9th) he lectured in + Washington—on very brief notice indeed. The arrangement for his + appearance had been made by a friend during his absence—“a + friend,” Clemens declared afterward, “not entirely sober at + the time.” To his mother he wrote: + </p> + <p> + I scared up a doorkeeper and was ready at the proper time, and by pure + good luck a tolerably good house assembled and I was saved. I hardly knew + what I was going to talk about, but it went off in splendid style. + </p> + <p> + The title of the lecture delivered was “The Frozen Truth”—“more + truth in the title than in the lecture,” according to his own + statement. What it dealt with is not remembered now. It had to do with the + Quaker City trip, perhaps, and it seems to have brought a financial return + which was welcome enough. Subsequently he delivered it elsewhere; though + just how far the tour extended cannot be learned from the letters, and he + had but little memory of it in later years. + </p> + <p> + There was some further correspondence with Bliss, then about the 21st of + January (1868) Clemens made a trip to Hartford to settle the matter. Bliss + had been particularly anxious to meet him, personally and was a trifle + disappointed with his appearance. Mark Twain's traveling costume was + neither new nor neat, and he was smoking steadily a pipe of power. His + general make-up was hardly impressive. + </p> + <p> + Bliss's disturbance was momentary. Once he began to talk the rest did not + matter. He was the author of those letters, and Bliss decided that + personally he was even greater than they. The publisher, confined to his + home with illness, offered him the hospitality of his household. Also, he + made him two propositions: he would pay him ten thousand dollars cash for + his copyright, or he would pay five per cent. royalty, which was a fourth + more than Richardson had received. He advised the latter arrangement. + </p> + <p> + Clemens had already taken advice and had discussed the project a good deal + with Richardson. The ten thousand dollars was a heavy temptation, but he + withstood it and closed on the royalty basis—“the best + business judgment I ever displayed,” he was wont to declare. A + letter written to his mother and sister near the end of this Hartford stay + is worth quoting pretty fully here, for the information and “character” + it contains. It bears date of January 24th. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + This is a good week for me. I stopped in the Herald office, as I + came through New York, to see the boys on the staff, and young James + Gordon Bennett asked me to write twice a week, impersonally, for the + Herald, and said if I would I might have full swing, and about + anybody and everything I wanted to. I said I must have the very + fullest possible swing, and he said, “All right.” I said, “It's a + contract—” and that settled that matter. + + I'll make it a point to write one letter a week anyhow. But the + best thing that has happened is here. This great American + Publishing Company kept on trying to bargain with me for a book till + I thought I would cut the matter short by coming up for a talk. I + met Henry Ward Beecher in Brooklyn, and with his usual whole-souled + way of dropping his own work to give other people a lift when he + gets a chance, he said: “Now, here, you are one of the talented men + of the age—nobody is going to deny that—but in matters of business + I don't suppose you know more than enough to come in when it rains. + I'll tell you what to do and how to do it.” And he did. + + And I listened well, and then came up here and made a splendid + contract for a Quaker City book of 5 or 600 large pages, with + illustrations, the manuscript to be placed in the publisher's hands + by the middle of July.—[The contract was not a formal one. There + was an exchange of letters agreeing to the terms, but no joint + document was drawn until October 16 (1868).]—My percentage is to + be a fourth more than they have ever paid any author except Greeley. + Beecher will be surprised, I guess, when he hears this. + + These publishers get off the most tremendous editions of their books + you can imagine. I shall write to the Enterprise and Alta every + week, as usual, I guess, and to the Herald twice a week, + occasionally to the Tribune and the magazines (I have a stupid + article in the Galaxy, just issued), but I am not going to write to + this and that and the other paper any more. + + I have had a tiptop time here for a few days (guest of Mr. Jno. + Hooker's family—Beecher's relatives—in a general way of Mr. Bliss + also, who is head of the publishing firm). Puritans are mighty + straight-laced, and they won't let me smoke in the parlor, but the + Almighty don't make any better people. + + I have to make a speech at the annual Herald dinner on the 6th of + May. +</pre> + <p> + So the book, which would establish his claim to a peerage in the literary + land, was arranged for, and it remained only to prepare the manuscript, a + task which he regarded as not difficult. He had only to collate the Alta + and Tribune letters, edit them, and write such new matter as would be + required for completeness. + </p> + <p> + Returning to Washington, he plunged into work with his usual terrific + energy, preparing the copy—in the mean time writing newspaper + correspondence and sketches that would bring immediate return. In addition + to his regular contributions, he entered into a syndicate arrangement with + John Swinton (brother of William Swinton, the historian) to supply letters + to a list of newspapers. + </p> + <p> + “I have written seven long newspaper letters and a short magazine + article in less than two days,” he wrote home, and by the end of + January he had also prepared several chapters of his book. + </p> + <p> + The San Francisco post-mastership was suggested to him again, but he put + the temptation behind him. He refers to this more than once in his home + letters, and it is clear that he wavered. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Judge Field said if I wanted the place he could pledge me the + President's appointment, and Senator Corners said he would guarantee + me the Senate's confirmation. It was a great temptation, but it + would render it impossible to fill my book contract, and I had to + drop the idea.... + + And besides I did not want the office. +</pre> + <p> + He made this final decision when he heard that the chief editor of the + Alta wanted the place, and he now threw his influence in that quarter. + “I would not take ten thousand dollars out of a friend's pocket,” + he said. + </p> + <p> + But then suddenly came the news from Goodman that the Alta publishers had + copyrighted his Quaker City letters and proposed getting them out in a + book, to reimburse themselves still further on their investment. This was + sharper than a serpent's tooth. Clemens got confirmation of the report by + telegraph. By the same medium he protested, but to no purpose. Then he + wrote a letter and sat down to wait. He reported his troubles to Orion: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have made a superb contract for a book, and have prepared the + first ten chapters of the sixty or eighty, but I will bet it never + sees the light. Don't you let the folks at home hear that. That + thieving Alta copyrighted the letters, and now shows no disposition + to let me use them. I have done all I can by telegraph, and now + await the final result by mail. I only charged them for 50 letters + what (even in) greenbacks would amount to less than two thousand + dollars, intending to write a good deal for high-priced Eastern + papers, and now they want to publish my letters in book form + themselves to get back that pitiful sum. +</pre> + <p> + Orion was by this time back from Nevada, setting type in St. Louis. He was + full of schemes, as usual, and his brother counsels him freely. Then he + says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We chase phantoms half the days of our lives. It is well if we + learn wisdom even then, and save the other half. + + I am in for it. I must go on chasing them, until I marry, then I am + done with literature and all other bosh—that is, literature + wherewith to please the general public. + + I shall write to please myself then. +</pre> + <p> + He closes by saying that he rather expects to go with Anson Burlingame on + the Chinese embassy. Clearly he was pretty hopeless as to his book + prospects. + </p> + <p> + His first meeting with General Grant occurred just at this time. In one of + his home letters he mentions, rather airily, that he will drop in someday + on the General for an interview; and at last, through Mrs. Grant, an + appointment was made for a Sunday evening when the General would be at + home. He was elated with the prospect of an interview; but when he looked + into the imperturbable, square, smileless face of the soldier he found + himself, for the first time in his life, without anything particular to + say. Grant nodded slightly and waited. His caller wished something would + happen. It did. His inspiration returned. + </p> + <p> + “General,” he said, “I seem to be a little embarrassed. + Are you?” + </p> + <p> + That broke the ice. There were no further difficulties.—[Mark Twain + has variously related this incident. It is given here in accordance with + the letters of the period.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0071" id="link2H_4_0071"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LXVI. BACK TO SAN FRANCISCO + </h2> + <p> + Reply came from the Alta, but it was not promising. It spoke rather + vaguely of prior arrangements and future possibilities. Clemens gathered + that under certain conditions he might share in the profits of the + venture. There was but one thing to do; he knew those people—some of + them—Colonel McComb and a Mr. McCrellish intimately. He must confer + with them in person. + </p> + <p> + He was weary of Washington, anyway. The whole pitiful machinery of + politics disgusted him. In his notebook he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Whiskey is taken into the committee rooms in demijohns and carried + out in demagogues. +</pre> + <p> + And in a letter: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + This is a place to get a poor opinion of everybody in. There are + some pitiful intellects in this Congress! There isn't one man in + Washington in civil office who has the brains of Anson Burlingame, + and I suppose if China had not seized and saved his great talents to + the world this government would have discarded him when his time was + up.—[Anson Burlingame had by this time become China's special + ambassador to the nations.] +</pre> + <p> + Furthermore, he was down on the climate of Washington. He decided to go to + San Francisco and see “those Alta thieves face to face.” Then, + if a book resulted, he could prepare it there among friends. Also, he + could lecture. + </p> + <p> + He had been anxious to visit his people before sailing, but matters were + too urgent to permit delay. He obtained from Bliss an advance of royalty + and took passage, by way of Aspinwall, on the sidewheel steamer Henry + Chauncey, a fine vessel for those days. The name of Mark Twain was already + known on the isthmus, and when it was learned he had arrived on the + Chauncey a delegation welcomed him on the wharf, and provided him with + refreshments and entertainment. Mr. Tracy Robinson, a poet, long a + resident of that southern land, was one of the group. Beyond the isthmus + Clemens fell in again with his old captain, Ned Wakeman, who during the + trip told him the amazing dream that in due time would become Captain + Stormfield's Visit to Heaven. He made the first draft of this story soon + after his arrival in San Francisco, as a sort of travesty of Elizabeth + Stuart Phelps's Gates Ajar, then very popular. Clemens, then and later, + had a high opinion of Capt. Ned Wakeman's dream, but his story of it would + pass through several stages before finally reaching the light of + publication.—[Mr. John P. Vollmer, now of Lewiston, Idaho, a + companion of that voyage, writes of a card game which took place beyond + the isthmus. The notorious crippled gambler, “Smithy,” figured + in it, and it would seem to have furnished the inspiration for the + exciting story in Chapter XXXVI of the Mississippi book.] + </p> + <p> + In San Francisco matters turned out as he had hoped. Colonel McComb was + his stanch friend; McCrellish and Woodward, the proprietors, presently + conceded that they had already received good value for the money paid. The + author agreed to make proper acknowledgments to the Alta in his preface, + and the matter was settled with friendliness all around. + </p> + <p> + The way was now clear, the book assured. First, however, he must provide + himself with funds. He delivered a lecture, with the Quaker City excursion + as his subject. On the 5th of May he wrote to Bliss: + </p> + <p> + I lectured here on the trip the other night; over $1,600 in gold in the + house; every seat taken and paid for before night. + </p> + <p> + He reports that he is steadily at work, and expects to start East with the + completed manuscript about the middle of June. + </p> + <p> + But this was a miscalculation. Clemens found that the letters needed more + preparation than he had thought. His literary vision and equipment had + vastly altered since the beginning of that correspondence. Some of the + chapters he rewrote; others he eliminated entirely. It required two months + of fairly steady work to put the big manuscript together. + </p> + <p> + Some of the new chapters he gave to Bret Harte for the Overland Monthly, + then recently established. Harte himself was becoming a celebrity about + this time. His “Luck of Roaring Camp” and “The Outcasts + of Poker Flat,” published in early numbers of the Overland, were + making a great stir in the East, arousing there a good deal more + enthusiasm than in the magazine office or the city of their publication. + That these two friends, each supreme in his own field, should have entered + into their heritage so nearly at the same moment, is one of the many + seemingly curious coincidences of literary history. + </p> + <p> + Clemens now concluded to cover his lecture circuit of two years before. He + was assured that it would be throwing away a precious opportunity not to + give his new lecture to his old friends. The result justified that + opinion. At Virginia, at Carson, and elsewhere he was received like a + returned conqueror. He might have been accorded a Roman triumph had there + been time and paraphernalia. Even the robbers had reformed, and entire + safety was guaranteed him on the Divide between Virginia and Gold Hill. At + Carson he called on Mrs. Curry, as in the old days, and among other things + told her how snow from the Lebanon Mountains is brought to Damascus on the + backs of camels. + </p> + <p> + “Sam,” she said, “that's just one of your yarns, and if + you tell it in your lecture to-night I'll get right up and say so.” + </p> + <p> + But he did tell it, for it was a fact; and though Mrs. Curry did not rise + to deny it she shook her finger at him in a way he knew. + </p> + <p> + He returned to San Francisco and gave one more lecture, the last he would + ever give in California. His preparatory advertising for that occasion was + wholly unique, characteristic of him to the last degree. It assumed the + form of a handbill of protest, supposed to have been issued by the + foremost citizens of San Francisco, urging him to return to the States + without inflicting himself further upon them. As signatures he made free + with the names of prominent individuals, followed by those of + organizations, institutions, “Various Benevolent Societies, Citizens + on Foot and Horseback, and fifteen hundred in the Steerage.” + </p> + <p> + Following this (on the same bill) was his reply, “To the fifteen + hundred and others,” in which he insisted on another hearing: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I will torment the people if I want to.... It only costs the people + $1 apiece, and if they can't stand it what do they stay here for?... + My last lecture was not as fine as I thought it was, but I have + submitted this discourse to several able critics, and they have + pronounced it good. Now, therefore, why should I withhold it? +</pre> + <p> + He promised positively to sail on the 6th of July if they would let him + talk just this once. Continuing, the handbill presented a second protest, + signed by the various clubs and business firms; also others bearing + variously the signatures of the newspapers, and the clergy, ending with + the brief word: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + You had better go. Yours, CHIEF OF POLICE. +</pre> + <p> + All of which drollery concluded with his announcement of place and date of + his lecture, with still further gaiety at the end. Nothing short of a + seismic cataclysm—an earthquake, in fact—could deter a San + Francisco audience after that. Mark Twain's farewell address, given at the + Mercantile Library July 2 (1868), doubtless remains today the leading + literary event in San Francisco's history.—[Copy of the lecture + announcement, complete, will be found in Appendix H, at the end of last + volume.] + </p> + <p> + He sailed July 6th by the Pacific mail steamer Montana to Acapulco, caught + the Henry Chauncey at Aspinwall, reached New York on the 28th, and a day + or two later had delivered his manuscript at Hartford. + </p> + <p> + But a further difficulty had arisen. Bliss was having troubles himself, + this time, with his directors. Many reports of Mark Twain's new book had + been traveling the rounds of the press, some of which declared it was to + be irreverent, even blasphemous, in tone. The title selected, The New + Pilgrim's Progress, was in itself a sacrilege. Hartford was a conservative + place; the American Publishing Company directors were of orthodox + persuasion. They urged Bliss to relieve the company of this impending + disaster of heresy. When the author arrived one or more of them labored + with him in person, without avail. As for Bliss, he was stanch; he + believed in the book thoroughly, from every standpoint. He declared if the + company refused to print it he would resign the management and publish the + book himself. This was an alarming suggestion to the stockholders. Bliss + had returned dividends—a boon altogether too rare in the company's + former history. The objectors retired and were heard of no more. The + manuscript was placed in the hands of Fay and Cox, illustrators, with an + order for about two hundred and fifty pictures. + </p> + <p> + Fay and Cox turned it over to True Williams, one of the well-known + illustrators of that day. Williams was a man of great talent—of fine + imagination and sweetness of spirit—but it was necessary to lock him + in a room when industry was required, with nothing more exciting than cold + water as a beverage. Clemens himself aided in the illustrating by + obtaining of Moses S. Beach photographs from the large collection he had + brought home. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0072" id="link2H_4_0072"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LXVII. A VISIT TO ELMIRA + </h2> + <p> + Meantime he had skilfully obtained a renewal of the invitation to spend a + week in the Langdon home. + </p> + <p> + He meant to go by a fast train, but, with his natural gift for + misunderstanding time-tables, of course took a slow one, telegraphing his + approach from different stations along the road. Young Langdon concluded + to go down the line as far as Waverly to meet him. When the New York train + reached there the young man found his guest in the smoking-car, + travel-stained and distressingly clad. Mark Twain was always scrupulously + neat and correct of dress in later years, but in that earlier day neatness + and style had not become habitual and did not give him comfort. Langdon + greeted him warmly but with doubt. Finally he summoned courage to say, + hesitatingly—“You've got some other clothes, haven't you?” + </p> + <p> + The arriving guest was not in the least disturbed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes,” he said with enthusiasm, “I've got a fine + brand-new outfit in this bag, all but a hat. It will be late when we get + in, and I won't see any one to-night. You won't know me in the morning. + We'll go out early and get a hat.” + </p> + <p> + This was a large relief to the younger man, and the rest of the journey + was happy enough. True to promise, the guest appeared at daylight + correctly, even elegantly clad, and an early trip to the shops secured the + hat. A gay and happy week followed—a week during which Samuel + Clemens realized more fully than ever that in his heart there was room for + only one woman in all the world: Olivia Langdon—“Livy,” + as they all called her—and as the day of departure drew near it may + be that the gentle girl had made some discoveries, too. + </p> + <p> + No word had passed between them. Samuel Clemens had the old-fashioned + Southern respect for courtship conventions, and for what, in that day at + least, was regarded as honor. On the morning of the final day he said to + young Langdon: + </p> + <p> + “Charley, my week is up, and I must go home.” + </p> + <p> + The young man expressed a regret which was genuine enough, though not + wholly unqualified. His older sister, Mrs. Crane, leaving just then for a + trip to the White Mountains, had said: + </p> + <p> + “Charley, I am sure Mr. Clemens is after our Livy. You mustn't let + him carry her off before our return.” + </p> + <p> + The idea was a disturbing one. The young man did not urge his guest to + prolong his-visit. He said: + </p> + <p> + “We'll have to stand it, I guess, but you mustn't leave before + to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “I ought to go by the first train,” Clemens said, gloomily. + “I am in love.” + </p> + <p> + “In what!” + </p> + <p> + “In love-with your sister, and I ought to get away from here.” + </p> + <p> + The young man was now very genuinely alarmed. To him Mark Twain was a + highly gifted, fearless, robust man—a man's man—and as such + altogether admirable—lovable. But Olivia—Livy—she was to + him little short of a saint. No man was good enough for her, certainly not + this adventurous soldier of letters from the West. Delightful he was + beyond doubt, adorable as a companion, but not a companion for Livy. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Clemens,” he said, when he could get his voice. + “There's a train in half an hour. I'll help you catch it. Don't wait + till to-night. Go now.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “No, Charley,” he said, in his gentle drawl, “I want to + enjoy your hospitality a little longer. I promise to be circumspect, and + I'll go to-night.” + </p> + <p> + That night, after dinner, when it was time to take the New York train, a + light two-seated wagon was at the gate. The coachman was in front, and + young Langdon and his guest took the back seat. For some reason the seat + had not been locked in its place, and when, after the good-bys, the + coachman touched the horse it made a quick spring forward, and the back + seat, with both passengers, described a half-circle and came down with + force on the cobbled street. Neither passenger was seriously hurt; Clemens + not at all—only dazed a little for a moment. Then came an + inspiration; here was a chance to prolong his visit. Evidently it was not + intended that he should take that train. When the Langdon household + gathered around with restoratives he did not recover too quickly. He + allowed them to support or carry him into the house and place him in an + arm-chair and apply remedies. The young daughter of the house especially + showed anxiety and attention. This was pure happiness. He was perjuring + himself, of course, but they say Jove laughs at such things. + </p> + <p> + He recovered in a day or two, but the wide hospitality of the handsome + Langdon home was not only offered now; it was enforced. He was still there + two weeks later, after which he made a trip to Cleveland to confide in + Mrs. Fairbanks how he intended to win Livy Langdon for his wife. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0073" id="link2H_4_0073"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LXVIII. THE REV. “JOE” TWICHELL. + </h2> + <p> + He returned to Hartford to look after the progress of his book. Some of it + was being put into type, and with his mechanical knowledge of such things + he was naturally interested in the process. + </p> + <p> + He made his headquarters with the Blisses, then living at 821 Asylum + Avenue, and read proof in a little upper room, where the lamp was likely + to be burning most of the time, where the atmosphere was nearly always + blue with smoke, and the window-sill full of cigar butts. Mrs. Bliss took + him into the quiet social life of the neighborhood—to small church + receptions, society gatherings and the like—all of which he seemed + to enjoy. Most of the dwellers in that neighborhood were members of the + Asylum Hill Congregational Church, then recently completed; all but the + spire. It was a cultured circle, well-off in the world's goods, its male + members, for the most part, concerned in various commercial ventures. + </p> + <p> + The church stood almost across the way from the Bliss home, and Mark + Twain, with his picturesque phrasing, referred to it as the “stub-tailed + church,” on account of its abbreviated spire; also, later, with a + knowledge of its prosperous membership, as the “Church of the Holy + Speculators.” He was at an evening reception in the home of one of + its members when he noticed a photograph of the unfinished building framed + and hanging on the wall. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes,” he commented, in his slow fashion, “this is + the 'Church of the Holy Speculators.'” + </p> + <p> + “Sh,” cautioned Mrs. Bliss. “Its pastor is just behind + you. He knows your work and wants to meet you.” Turning, she said: + “Mr. Twichell, this is Mr. Clemens. Most people know him as Mark + Twain.” + </p> + <p> + And so, in this casual fashion, he met the man who was presently to become + his closest personal friend and counselor, and would remain so for more + than forty years. + </p> + <p> + Joseph Hopkins Twichell was a man about his own age, athletic and + handsome, a student and a devout Christian, yet a man familiar with the + world, fond of sports, with an exuberant sense of humor and a wide + understanding of the frailties of humankind. He had been “port waist + oar” at Yale, and had left college to serve with General “Dan” + Sickles as a chaplain who had followed his duties not only in the camp, + but on the field. + </p> + <p> + Mention has already been made of Mark Twain's natural leaning toward + ministers of the gospel, and the explanation of it is easier to realize + than to convey. He was hopelessly unorthodox—rankly rebellious as to + creeds. Anything resembling cant or the curtailment of mental liberty + roused only his resentment and irony. Yet something in his heart always + warmed toward any laborer in the vineyard, and if we could put the + explanation into a single sentence, perhaps we might say it was because he + could meet them on that wide, common ground sympathy with mankind. Mark + Twain's creed, then and always, may be put into three words, “liberty, + justice, humanity.” It may be put into one word, “humanity.” + </p> + <p> + Ministers always loved Mark Twain. They did not always approve of him, but + they adored him: The Rev. Mr. Rising, of the Comstock, was an early + example of his ministerial friendships, and we have seen that Henry Ward + Beecher cultivated his company. In a San Francisco letter of two years + before, Mark Twain wrote his mother, thinking it would please her: + </p> + <p> + I am as thick as thieves with the Reverend Stebbins. I am laying for the + Reverend Scudder and the Reverend Doctor Stone. I am running on preachers + now altogether, and I find them gay. + </p> + <p> + So it may be that his first impulse toward Joseph Twichell was due to the + fact that he was a young member of that army whose mission is to comfort + and uplift mankind. But it was only a little time till the impulse had + grown into a friendship that went beyond any profession or doctrine, a + friendship that ripened into a permanent admiration and love for “Joe” + Twichell himself, as one of the noblest specimens of his race. + </p> + <p> + He was invited to the Twichell home, where he met the young wife and got a + glimpse of the happiness of that sweet and peaceful household. He had a + neglected, lonely look, and he loved to gather with them at their + fireside. He expressed his envy of their happiness, and Mrs. Twichell + asked him why, since his affairs were growing prosperous, he did not + establish a household of his own. Long afterward Mr. Twichell wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mark made no answer for a little, but, with his eyes bent on the + floor, appeared to be deeply pondering. Then he looked up, and said + slowly, in a voice tremulous with earnestness (with what sympathy he + was heard may be imagined): “I am taking thought of it. I am in + love beyond all telling with the dearest and best girl in the whole + world. I don't suppose she will marry me. I can't think it + possible. She ought not to. But if she doesn't I shall be sure + that the best thing I ever did was to fall in love with her, and + proud to have it known that I tried to win her!” + </pre> + <p> + It was only a brief time until the Twichell fireside was home to him. He + came and went, and presently it was “Mark” and “Joe,” + as by and by it would be “Livy” and “Harmony,” and + in a few years “Uncle Joe” and “Uncle Mark,” + “Aunt Livy” and “Aunt Harmony,” and so would + remain until the end. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0074" id="link2H_4_0074"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LXIX. A LECTURE TOUR + </h2> + <p> + James Redpath, proprietor of the Boston Lyceum Bureau, was the leading + lecture agent of those days, and controlled all, or nearly all, of the + platform celebrities. Mark Twain's success at the Cooper Union the year + before had interested Redpath. He had offered engagements then and later, + but Clemens had not been free for the regular circuit. Now there was no + longer a reason for postponement of a contract. Redpath was eager for the + new celebrity, and Clemens closed with him for the season of 1868-9. With + his new lecture, “The Vandal Abroad,” he was presently earning + a hundred dollars and more a night, and making most of the nights count. + </p> + <p> + This was affluence indeed. He had become suddenly a person of substance-an + associate of men of consequence, with a commensurate income. He could help + his mother lavishly now, and he did. + </p> + <p> + His new lecture was immensely popular. It was a resume of the 'Quaker + City' letters—a foretaste of the book which would presently follow. + Wherever he went, he was hailed with eager greetings. He caught such + drifting exclamations as, “There he is! There goes Mark Twain!” + People came out on the street to see him pass. That marvelous miracle + which we variously call “notoriety,” “popularity,” + “fame,” had come to him. In his notebook he wrote, “Fame + is a vapor, popularity an accident; the only, earthly certainty oblivion.” + </p> + <p> + The newspapers were filled with enthusiasm both as to his matter and + method. His delivery was described as a “long, monotonous drawl, + with the fun invariably coming in at the end of a sentence—after a + pause.” His appearance at this time is thus set down: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mark Twain is a man of medium height, about five feet ten, sparsely + built, with dark reddish-brown hair and mustache. His features are + fair, his eyes keen and twinkling. He dresses in scrupulous evening + attire. In lecturing he hangs about the desk, leaning on it or + flirting around the corners of it, then marching and countermarching + in the rear of it. He seldom casts a glance at his manuscript. +</pre> + <p> + No doubt this fairly presents Mark Twain, the lecturer of that day. It was + a new figure on the platform, a man with a new method. As to his + manuscript, the item might have said that he never consulted it at all. He + learned his lecture; what he consulted was merely a series of + hieroglyphics, a set of crude pictures drawn by himself, suggestive of the + subject-matter underneath new head. Certain columns represented the + Parthenon; the Sphinx meant Egypt, and so on. His manuscript lay there in + case of accident, but the accident did not happen. + </p> + <p> + A number of his engagements were in the central part of New York, at + points not far distant from Elmira. He had a standing invitation to visit + the Langdon home, and he made it convenient to avail himself of that + happiness. + </p> + <p> + His was not an unruffled courtship. When at last he reached the point of + proposing for the daughter of the house, neither the daughter nor the + household offered any noticeable encouragement to his suit. Many absurd + anecdotes have been told of his first interview with Mr. Langdon on the + subject, but they are altogether without foundation. It was a proper and + dignified discussion of a very serious matter. Mr. Langdon expressed deep + regard for him and friendship but he was not inclined to add him to the + family; the young lady herself, in a general way, accorded with these + views. The applicant for favor left sadly enough, but he could not remain + discouraged or sad. He lectured at Cleveland with vast success, and the + news of it traveled quickly to Elmira. He was referred to by Cleveland + papers as a “lion” and “the coming man of the age.” + Two days later, in Pittsburgh (November 19th), he “played” + against Fanny Kemble, the favorite actress of that time, with the result + that Miss Kemble had an audience of two hundred against nearly ten times + the number who gathered to hear Mark Twain. The news of this went to + Elmira, too. It was in the papers there next morning; surely this was a + conquering hero—a gay Lochinvar from out of the West—and the + daughter of the house must be guarded closely, that he did not bear her + away. It was on the second morning following the Pittsburgh triumph, when + the Langdon family were gathered at breakfast, that a bushy auburn head + poked fearfully in at the door, and a low, humble voice said: + </p> + <p> + “The calf has returned; may the prodigal have some breakfast?” + </p> + <p> + No one could be reserved or reprovingly distant, or any of those + unfriendly things with a person like that; certainly not Jervis Langdon, + who delighted in the humor and the tricks and turns and oddities of this + eccentric visitor. Giving his daughter to him was another matter, but even + that thought was less disturbing than it had been at the start. In truth, + the Langdon household had somehow grown to feel that he belonged to them. + The elder sister's husband, Theodore Crane, endorsed him fully. He had + long before read some of the Mark Twain sketches that had traveled + eastward in advance of their author, and had recognized, even in the + crudest of them, a classic charm. As for Olivia Langdon's mother and + sister, their happiness lay in hers. Where her heart went theirs went + also, and it would appear that her heart, in spite of herself, had found + its rightful keeper. Only young Langdon was irreconciled, and eventually + set out for a voyage around the world to escape the situation. + </p> + <p> + There was only a provisional engagement at first. Jervis Langdon + suggested, and Samuel Clemens agreed with him, that it was proper to know + something of his past, as well as of his present, before the official + parental sanction should be given. When Mr. Langdon inquired as to the + names of persons of standing to whom he might write for credentials, + Clemens pretty confidently gave him the name of the Reverend Stebbins and + others of San Francisco, adding that he might write also to Joe Goodman if + he wanted to, but that he had lied for Goodman a hundred times and Goodman + would lie for him if necessary, so his testimony would be of no value. The + letters to the clergy were written, and Mr. Langdon also wrote one on his + own account. + </p> + <p> + It was a long mail-trip to the Coast and back in those days. It might be + two months before replies would come from those ministers. The lecturer + set out again on his travels, and was radiantly and happily busy. He went + as far west as Illinois, had crowded houses in Chicago, visited friends + and kindred in Hannibal, St. Louis, and Keokuk, carrying the great news, + and lecturing in old familiar haunts. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0075" id="link2H_4_0075"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LXX. INNOCENTS AT HOME—AND “THE INNOCENTS ABROAD” + </h2> + <p> + He was in Jacksonville, Illinois, at the end of January (1869), and in a + letter to Bliss states that he will be in Elmira two days later, and asks + that proofs of the book be sent there. He arrived at the Langdon home, + anxious to hear the reports that would make him, as the novels might say, + “the happiest or the most miserable of men.” Jervis Langdon + had a rather solemn look when they were alone together. Clemens asked: + </p> + <p> + “You've heard from those gentlemen out there?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and from another gentleman I wrote concerning you.” + </p> + <p> + “They don't appear to have been very enthusiastic, from your manner.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes, some of them were.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose I may ask what particular form their emotion took?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, yes; they agree unanimously that you are a brilliant, able + man, a man with a future, and that you would make about the worst husband + on record.” + </p> + <p> + The applicant for favor had a forlorn look. + </p> + <p> + “There's nothing very evasive about that,” he said: + </p> + <p> + There was a period of reflective silence. It was probably no more than a + few seconds, but it seemed longer. + </p> + <p> + “Haven't you any other friend that you could suggest?” Langdon + said. + </p> + <p> + “Apparently none whose testimony would be valuable.” + </p> + <p> + Jervis Langdon held out his hand. “You have at least one,” he + said. “I believe in you. I know you better than they do.” + </p> + <p> + And so came the crown of happiness. The engagement of Samuel Langhorne + Clemens and Olivia Lewis Langdon was ratified next day, February 4, 1869. + </p> + <p> + But if the friends of Mark Twain viewed the idea of the marriage with + scant favor, the friends of Miss Langdon regarded it with genuine alarm. + Elmira was a conservative place—a place of pedigree and family + tradition; that a stranger, a former printer, pilot, miner, wandering + journalist and lecturer, was to carry off the daughter of one of the + oldest and wealthiest families, was a thing not to be lightly permitted. + The fact that he had achieved a national fame did not count against other + considerations. The social protest amounted almost to insurrection, but it + was not availing. The Langdon family had their doubts too, though of a + different sort. Their doubts lay in the fear that one, reared as their + daughter had been, might be unable to hold a place as the wife of this + intellectual giant, whom they felt that the world was preparing to honor. + That this delicate, sheltered girl could have the strength of mind and + body for her position seemed hard to believe. Their faith overbore such + questionings, and the future years proved how fully it was justified. + </p> + <p> + To his mother Samuel Clemens wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + She is only a little body, but she hasn't her peer in Christendom. + I gave her only a plain gold engagement ring, when fashion + imperatively demands a two-hundred-dollar diamond one, and told her + it was typical of her future life-namely, that she would have to + flourish on substance, rather than luxuries (but you see I know the + girl—she don't care anything about luxuries).... She spends no + money but her astral year's allowance, and spends nearly every cent + of that on other people. She will be a good, sensible little wife, + without any airs about her. I don't make intercession for her + beforehand, and ask you to love her, for there isn't any use in + that—you couldn't help it if you were to try. I warn you that + whoever comes within the fatal influence of her beautiful nature is + her willing slave forevermore. +</pre> + <p> + To Mrs. Crane, absent in March, her father wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR SUE,—I received your letter yesterday with a great deal of + pleasure, but the letter has gone in pursuit of one S. L. Clemens, + who has been giving us a great deal of trouble lately. We cannot + have a joy in our family without a feeling, on the part of the + little incorrigible in our family, that this wanderer must share it, + so, as soon as read, into her pocket and off upstairs goes your + letter, and in the next two minutes into the mail, so it is + impossible for me now to refer to it, or by reading it over gain an + inspiration in writing you... +</pre> + <p> + Clemens closed his lecture tour in March, acid went immediately to Elmira. + He had lectured between fifty and sixty times, with a return of something + more than $8,000, not a bad aggregate for a first season on the circuit. + He had planned to make a spring tour to California, but the attraction at + Elmira was of a sort that discouraged distant travel. Furthermore, he + disliked the platform, then and always. It was always a temptation to him + because of its quick and abundant return, but it was none the less + distasteful. In a letter of that spring he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I most cordially hate the lecture field. And after all, I shudder + to think I may never get out of it. In all conversation with Gough, + and Anna Dickinson, Nasby, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Wendell Phillips, + and the other old stagers, I could not observe that they ever + expected or hoped to get out of the business. I don't want to get + wedded to it as they are. +</pre> + <p> + He declined further engagements on the excuse that he must attend to + getting out his book. The revised proofs were coming now, and he and + gentle Livy Langdon read them together. He realized presently that with + her sensitive nature she had also a keen literary perception. What he + lacked in delicacy—and his lack was likely to be large enough in + that direction—she detected, and together they pruned it away. She + became his editor during those happy courtship days—a position which + she held to her death. The world owed a large debt of gratitude to Mark + Twain's wife, who from the very beginning—and always, so far as in + her strength she was able—inspired him to give only his worthiest to + the world, whether in written or spoken word, in counsel or in deed. Those + early days of their close companionship, spiritual and mental, were full + of revelation to Samuel Clemens, a revelation that continued from day to + day, and from year to year, even to the very end. + </p> + <p> + The letter to Bliss and the proofs were full of suggested changes that + would refine and beautify the text. In one of them he settles the question + of title, which he says is to be: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THE INNOCENTS ABROAD + or + THE NEW PILGRIM'S PROGRESS +</pre> + <p> + and we may be sure that it was Olivia Langdon's voice that gave the + deciding vote for the newly adopted chief title, which would take any + suggestion of irreverence out of the remaining words. + </p> + <p> + The book was to have been issued in the spring, but during his wanderings + proofs had been delayed, and there was now considerable anxiety about it, + as the agencies had become impatient for the canvass. At the end of April + Clemens wrote: “Your printers are doing well. I will hurry the + proofs”; but it was not until the early part of June that the last + chapters were revised and returned. Then the big book, at last completed, + went to press on an edition of twenty thousand, a large number for any new + book, even to-day. + </p> + <p> + In later years, through some confusion of circumstance, Mark Twain was led + to believe that the publication of The Innocents Abroad was long and + unnecessarily delayed. But this was manifestly a mistake. The book went to + press in June. It was a big book and a large edition. The first copy was + delivered July 20 (1869), and four hundred and seventeen bound volumes + were shipped that month. Even with the quicker mechanical processes of + to-day a month or more is allowed for a large book between the final + return of proofs and the date of publication. So it is only another + instance of his remembering, as he once quaintly put it, “the thing + that didn't happen.”—[In an article in the North American + Review (September 21, 1906) Mr. Clemens stated that he found it necessary + to telegraph notice that he would bring suit if the book was not + immediately issued. In none of the letters covering this period is there + any suggestion of delay on the part of the publishers, and the date of the + final return of proofs, together with the date of publication, preclude + the possibility of such a circumstance. At some period of his life he + doubtless sent, or contemplated sending, such a message, and this fact, + through some curious psychology, became confused in his mind with the + first edition of The Innocents Abroad.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0076" id="link2H_4_0076"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LXXI. THE GREAT BOOK OF TRAVEL. + </h2> + <p> + 'The Innocents Abroad' was a success from the start. The machinery for its + sale and delivery was in full swing by August 1, and five thousand one + hundred and seventy copies were disposed of that month—a number that + had increased to more than thirty-one thousand by the first of the year. + It was a book of travel; its lowest price was three and a half dollars. No + such record had been made by a book of that description; none has equaled + it since.—[One must recall that this was the record only up to 1910. + D.W.] + </p> + <p> + If Mark Twain was not already famous, he was unquestionably famous now. As + the author of The New Pilgrim's Progress he was swept into the domain of + letters as one riding at the head of a cavalcade—doors and windows + wide with welcome and jubilant with applause. Newspapers chorused their + enthusiasm; the public voiced universal approval; only a few of the more + cultured critics seemed hesitant and doubtful. + </p> + <p> + They applauded—most of them—but with reservation. Doctor + Holland regarded Mark Twain as a mere fun maker of ephemeral popularity, + and was not altogether pleasant in his dictum. Doctor Holmes, in a letter + to the author, speaks of the “frequently quaint and amusing + conceits,” but does not find it in his heart to refer to the book as + literature. It was naturally difficult for the East to concede a serious + value to one who approached his subject with such militant aboriginality, + and occasionally wrote “those kind.” William Dean Howells + reviewed the book in the Atlantic, which was of itself a distinction, + whether the review was favorable or otherwise. It was favorable on the + whole, favorable to the humor of the book, its “delicious impudence,” + the charm of its good-natured irony. The review closed: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It is no business of ours to fix his rank among the humorists + California has given us, but we think he is, in an entirely + different way from all the others, quite worthy of the company of + the best. +</pre> + <p> + This is praise, but not of an intemperate sort, nor very inclusive. The + descriptive, the poetic, the more pretentious phases of the book did not + receive attention. Mr. Howells was perhaps the first critic of eminence to + recognize in Mark Twain not only the humorist, but the supreme genius-the + “Lincoln of our literature.” This was later. The public—the + silent public—with what Howells calls “the inspired knowledge + of the simple-hearted multitude,” reached a similar verdict + forthwith. And on sufficient evidence: let the average unprejudiced person + of to-day take up the old volume and read a few chapters anywhere and + decide whether it is the work of a mere humorist, or also of a + philosopher, a poet, and a seer. The writer well remembers a little group + of “the simple-hearted multitude” who during the winter of '69 + and '70 gathered each evening to hear the Innocents read aloud, and their + unanimous verdict that it was the “best book of modern times.” + </p> + <p> + It was the most daring book of its day. Passages of it were calculated to + take the breath of the orthodox reader; only, somehow, it made him smile, + too. It was all so good-natured, so openly sincere. Without doubt it + preached heresy—the heresy of viewing revered landmarks and relics + joyously, rather than lugubriously; reverentially, when they inspired + reverence; satirically, when they invited ridicule, and with kindliness + always. + </p> + <p> + The Innocents Abroad is Mark Twain's greatest book of travel. The critical + and the pure in speech may object to this verdict. Brander Matthews + regards it second to A Tramp Abroad, the natural viewpoint of the literary + technician. The 'Tramp' contains better usage without doubt, but it lacks + the “color” which gives the Innocents its perennial charm. In + the Innocents there is a glow, a fragrance, a romance of touch, a subtle + something which is idyllic, something which is not quite of reality, in + the tale of that little company that so long ago sailed away to the + harbors of their illusions beyond the sea, and, wandered together through + old palaces and galleries, and among the tombs of the saints, and down + through ancient lands. There is an atmosphere about it all, a dream-like + quality that lies somewhere in the telling, maybe, or in the tale; at all + events it is there, and the world has felt it ever since. Perhaps it could + be defined in a single word, perhaps that word would be “youth.” + That the artist, poor True Williams, felt its inspiration is certain. We + may believe that Williams was not a great draftsman, but no artist ever + caught more perfectly the light and spirit of the author's text. Crude + some of the pictures are, no doubt, but they convey the very essence of + the story; they belong to it, they are a part of it, and they ought never + to perish. 'A Tramp Abroad' is a rare book, but it cannot rank with its + great predecessor in human charm. The public, which in the long run makes + mistakes, has rendered that verdict. The Innocents by far outsells the + Tramp, and, for that matter, any other book of travel. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0077" id="link2H_4_0077"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LXXII.THE PURCHASE OF A PAPER. + </h2> + <p> + It is curious to reflect that Mark Twain still did not regard himself as a + literary man. He had no literary plans for the future; he scarcely looked + forward to the publication of another book. He considered himself a + journalist; his ambition lay in the direction of retirement in some + prosperous newspaper enterprise, with the comforts and companionship of a + home. During his travels he had already been casting about for a congenial + and substantial association in newspaperdom, and had at one time + considered the purchase of an interest in the Cleveland Herald. But + Buffalo was nearer Elmira, and when an opportunity offered, by which he + could acquire a third interest in the Buffalo Express for $25,000, the + purchase was decided upon. His lack of funds prompted a new plan for a + lecture tour to the Pacific coast, this time with D. R. Locke (Nasby), + then immensely popular, in his lecture “Cussed Be Canaan.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens had met Nasby on the circuit, and was very fond of him. The two + had visited Boston together, and while there had called on Doctor Holmes; + this by the way. Nasby was fond of Clemens too, but doubtful about the + trip-doubtful about his lecture: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Your proposition takes my breath away. If I had my new lecture + completed I wouldn't hesitate a moment, but really isn't “Cussed Be + Canaan” too old? You know that lemon, our African brother, juicy as + he was in his day, has been squeezed dry. Why howl about his wrongs + after said wrongs have been redressed? Why screech about the + “damnable spirit of Cahst” when the victim thereof sits at the first + table, and his oppressor mildly takes, in hash, what he leaves? You + see, friend Twain, the Fifteenth Amendment busted “Cussed Be + Canaan.” I howled feelingly on the subject while it was a living + issue, for I felt all that I said and a great deal more; but now + that we have won our fight why dance frantically on the dead corpse + of our enemy? The Reliable Contraband is contraband no more, but a + citizen of the United States, and I speak of him no more. + + Give me a week to think of your proposition. If I can jerk a + lecture in time I will go with you. The Lord knows I would like to. + —[Nasby's lecture, “Cussed Be Canaan,” opened, “We are all + descended from grandfathers!” He had a powerful voice, and always + just on the stroke of eight he rose and vigorously delivered this + sentence. Once, after lecturing an entire season—two hundred and + twenty-five nights—he went home to rest. That evening he sat, + musingly drowsing by the fire, when the clock struck eight. Without + a moment's thought Nasby sprang to his feet and thundered out, “We + are all descended from grandfathers!”] +</pre> + <p> + Nasby did not go, and Clemens's enthusiasm cooled at the prospect of + setting out alone on that long tour. Furthermore, Jervis Langdon promptly + insisted on advancing the money required to complete the purchase of the + Express, and the trade was closed.—[Mr. Langdon is just as good for + $25,000 for me, and has already advanced half of it in cash. I wrote and + asked whether I had better send him my note, or a due bill, or how he + would prefer to have the indebtedness made of record, and he answered + every other topic in the letter pleasantly, but never replied to that at + all. Still, I shall give my note into a hands of his business agent here, + and pay him the interest as it falls due.—S. L. C. to his mother.] + </p> + <p> + The Buffalo Express was at this time in the hands of three men—Col. + George F. Selkirk, J. L. Lamed, and Thomas A. Kennett. Colonel Selkirk was + business manager, Lamed was political editor. With the purchase of + Kennett's share Clemens became a sort of general and contributing editor, + with a more or less “roving commission”—his hours and + duties not very clearly defined. It was believed by his associates, and by + Clemens himself, that his known connection with the paper would give it + prestige and circulation, as Nasby's connection had popularized the Toledo + Blade. The new editor entered upon his duties August 14 (1869). The + members of the Buffalo press gave him a dinner that evening, and after the + manner of newspaper men the world over, were handsomely cordial to the + “new enemy in their midst.” + </p> + <p> + There is an anecdote which relates that next morning, when Mark Twain + arrived in the Express office (it was then at 14 Swan Street), there + happened to be no one present who knew him. A young man rose very bruskly + and asked if there was any one he would like to see. It is reported that + he replied, with gentle deliberation: + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes, I should like to see some young man offer the new editor + a chair.” + </p> + <p> + It is so like Mark Twain that we are inclined to accept it, though it + seems of doubtful circumstance. In any case it deserves to be true. His + “Salutatory” (August 18th) is sufficiently genuine: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Being a stranger, it would be immodest for me to suddenly and + violently assume the associate editorship of the Buffalo Express + without a single word of comfort or encouragement to the unoffending + patrons of the paper, who are about to be exposed to constant + attacks of my wisdom and learning. But the word shall be as brief + as possible. I only want to assure parties having a friendly + interest in the prosperity of the journal that I am not going to + hurt the paper deliberately and intentionally at any time. I am not + going to introduce any startling reforms, nor in any way attempt to + make trouble.... I shall not make use of slang and vulgarity upon + any occasion or under any circumstances, and shall never use + profanity except when discussing house rent and taxes. Indeed, upon + a second thought, I shall not use it even then, for it is + unchristian, inelegant, and degrading; though, to speak truly, I do + not see how house rent and taxes are going to be discussed worth a + cent without it. I shall not often meddle with politics, because we + have a political Editor who is already excellent and only needs to + serve a term or two in the penitentiary to be perfect. I shall not + write any poetry unless I conceive a spite against the subscribers. + + Such is my platform. I do not see any use in it, but custom is law + and must be obeyed. +</pre> + <p> + John Harrison Mills, who was connected with the Express in those days, has + written: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I cannot remember that there was any delay in getting down to his + work. I think within five minutes the new editor had assumed the + easy look of one entirely at home, pencil in hand and a clutch of + paper before him, with an air of preoccupation, as of one intent on + a task delayed. It was impossible to be conscious of the man + sitting there, and not feel his identity with all that he had + enjoyed, and the reminiscence of it he that seemed to radiate; for + the personality was so absolutely in accord with all the record of + himself and his work. I cannot say he seemed to be that vague thing + they call a type in race or blood, though the word, if used in his + case for temperament, would decidedly mean what they used to call + the “sanguine.” + + I thought that, pictorially, the noble costume of the Albanian would + have well become him. Or he might have been a Goth, and worn the + horned bull-pate helmet of Alaric's warriors; or stood at the prow + of one of the swift craft of the Vikings. His eyes, which have been + variously described, were, it seemed to me, of an indescribable + depth of the bluish moss-agate, with a capacity of pupil dilation + that in certain lights had the effect of a deep black.... +</pre> + <p> + Mr. Mills adds that in dress he was now “well groomed,” and + that consequently they were obliged to revise their notions as to the + careless negligee which gossip had reported.—[From unpublished + Reminiscences kindly lent to the author by Mr. Mills] + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0078" id="link2H_4_0078"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LXXIII. THE FIRST MEETING WITH HOWELLS + </h2> + <p> + Clemens' first period of editorial work was a brief one, though he made + frequent contributions to the paper: sketches, squibs, travel-notes, and + experiences, usually humorous in character. His wedding-day had been set + for early in the year, and it was necessary to accumulate a bank account + for that occasion. Before October he was out on the lecture circuit, + billed now for the first time for New England, nervous and apprehensive in + consequence, though with good hope. To Pamela he wrote (November 9th): + </p> + <p> + To-morrow night I appear for the first time before a Boston audience—4,000 + critics—and on the success of this matter depends my future success + in New England. But I am not distressed. Nasby is in the same boat. + Tonight decides the fate of his brand-new lecture. He has just left my + room—been reading his lecture to me—was greatly depressed. I + have convinced him that he has little to fear. + </p> + <p> + Whatever alarm Mark Twain may have felt was not warranted. His success + with the New England public was immediate and complete. He made his + headquarters in Boston, at Redpath's office, where there was pretty sure + to be a congenial company, of which he was presently the center. + </p> + <p> + It was during one of these Boston sojourns that he first met William Dean + Howells, his future friend and literary counselor. Howells was assistant + editor of the Atlantic at this time; James T. Fields, its editor. Clemens + had been gratified by the Atlantic review, and had called to express his + thanks for it. He sat talking to Fields, when Howells entered the + editorial rooms, and on being presented to the author of the review, + delivered his appreciation in the form of a story, sufficiently + appropriate, but not qualified for the larger types.—[He said: + “When I read that review of yours, I felt like the woman who was so + glad her baby had come white.”] + </p> + <p> + His manner, his humor, his quaint colloquial forms all delighted Howells—more, + in fact, than the opulent sealskin overcoat which he affected at this + period—a garment astonishing rather than esthetic, as Mark Twain's + clothes in those days of his first regeneration were likely to be + startling enough, we may believe; in the conservative atmosphere of the + Atlantic rooms. And Howells—gentle, genial, sincere—filled + with the early happiness of his calling, won the heart of Mark Twain and + never lost it, and, what is still more notable, won his absolute and + unvarying confidence in all literary affairs. It was always Mark Twain's + habit to rely on somebody, and in matters pertaining to literature and to + literary people in general he laid his burden on William Dean Howells from + that day. Only a few weeks after that first visit we find him telegraphing + to Howells, asking him to look after a Californian poet, then ill and + friendless in Brooklyn. Clemens states that he does not know the poet, but + will contribute fifty dollars if Howells will petition the steamboat + company for a pass; and no doubt Howells complied, and spent a good deal + more than fifty dollars' worth of time to get the poet relieved and + started; it would be like him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0079" id="link2H_4_0079"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LXXIV. THE WEDDING-DAY + </h2> + <p> + The wedding was planned, at first, either for Christmas or New-Year's Day; + but as the lecture engagements continued into January it was decided to + wait until these were filled. February 2d, a date near the anniversary of + the engagement, was agreed upon, also a quiet wedding with no “tour.” + The young people would go immediately to Buffalo, and take up a modest + residence, in a boardinghouse as comfortable, even as luxurious, as the + husband's financial situation justified. At least that was Samuel + Clemens's understanding of the matter. He felt that he was heavily in debt—that + his first duty was to relieve himself of that obligation. + </p> + <p> + There were other plans in Elmira, but in the daily and happy letters he + received there was no inkling of any new purpose. + </p> + <p> + He wrote to J. D. F. Slee, of Buffalo, who was associated in business with + Mr. Langdon, and asked him to find a suitable boarding-place, one that + would be sufficiently refined for the woman who was to be his wife, and + sufficiently reasonable to insure prosperity. In due time Slee replied + that, while boarding was a “miserable business anyhow,” he had + been particularly fortunate in securing a place on one of the most + pleasant streets—“the family a small one and choice spirits, + with no predilection for taking boarders, and consenting to the present + arrangement only because of the anticipated pleasure of your company.” + The price, Slee added, would be reasonable. As a matter of fact a house on + Delaware Avenue—still the fine residence street of Buffalo—had + been bought and furnished throughout as a present to the bride and groom. + It stands to-day practically unchanged—brick and mansard without, + Eastlake within, a type then much in vogue—spacious and handsome for + that period. It was completely appointed. Diagrams of the rooms had been + sent to Elmira and Miss Langdon herself had selected the furnishings. + Everything was put in readiness, including linen, cutlery, and utensils. + Even the servants had been engaged and the pantry and cellar had been + stocked. + </p> + <p> + It must have been hard for Olivia Langdon to keep this wonderful surprise + out of those daily letters. A surprise like that is always watching a + chance to slip out unawares, especially when one is eagerly impatient to + reveal it. + </p> + <p> + However, the traveler remained completely in the dark. He may have + wondered vaguely at the lack of enthusiasm in the boarding idea, and could + he have been certain that the sales of the book would continue, or that + his newspaper venture would yield an abundant harvest, he might have + planned his domestic beginning on a more elaborate scale. If only the + Tennessee land would yield the long-expected fortune now! But these were + all incalculable things. All that he could be sure of was the coming of + his great happiness, in whatever environment, and of the dragging weeks + between. + </p> + <p> + At last the night of the final lecture came, and he was off for Elmira + with the smallest possible delay. Once there, the intervening days did not + matter. He could join in the busy preparations; he could write exuberantly + to his friends. To Laura Hawkins, long since Laura Frazer he sent a + playful line; to Jim Gillis, still digging and washing on the slopes of + the old Tuolumne hills, he wrote a letter which eminently belongs here: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Elmira, N. Y., January 26, 1870. + + DEAR Jim,—I remember that old night just as well! And somewhere + among my relics I have your remembrance stored away. It makes my + heart ache yet to call to mind some of those days. Still it + shouldn't, for right in the depths of their poverty and their + pocket-hunting vagabondage lay the germ of my coming good fortune. + You remember the one gleam of jollity that shot across our dismal + sojourn in the rain and mud of Angel's Camp—I mean that day we sat + around the tavern stove and heard that chap tell about the frog and + how they filled him with shot. And you remember how we quoted from + the yarn and laughed over it out there on the hillside while you and + dear old Stoker panned and washed. I jotted the story down in my + note-book that day, and would have been glad to get ten or fifteen + dollars for it—I was just that blind. But then we were so hard up. + I published that story, and it became widely known in America, + India, China, England, and the reputation it made for me has paid me + thousands and thousands of dollars since. Four or five months ago I + bought into the Express (I have ordered it sent to you as long as + you live, and if the bookkeeper sends you any bills you let me hear + of it). I went heavily in debt—never could have dared to do that, + Jim, if we hadn't heard the jumping Frog story that day. + + And wouldn't I love to take old Stoker by the hand, and wouldn't I + love to see him in his great specialty, his wonderful rendition of + Rinalds in the “Burning Shame!” Where is Dick and what is he doing? + Give him my fervent love and warm old remembrances. + + A week from to-day I shall be married-to a girl even better and + lovelier than the peerless “Chapparal Quails.” You can't come so + far, Jim, but still I cordially invite you to come anyhow, and I + invite Dick too. And if you two boys were to land here on that + pleasant occasion we would make you right royally welcome. + Truly your friend, + SAML. L. CLEMENS. + + P.S.—-California plums are good. Jim, particularly when they are + stewed. +</pre> + <p> + It had been only five years before—that day in Angel's Camp—but + how long ago and how far away it seemed to him now! So much had happened + since then, so much of which that was the beginning—so little + compared with the marvel of the years ahead, whose threshold he was now + about to cross, and not alone. + </p> + <p> + A day or two before the wedding he was asked to lecture on the night of + February 2d. He replied that he was sorry to disappoint the applicant, but + that he could not lecture on the night of February 2d, for the reason that + he was going to marry a young lady on that evening, and that he would + rather marry that young lady than deliver all the lectures in the world. + </p> + <p> + And so came the wedding-day. It began pleasantly; the postman brought a + royalty check that morning of $4,000, the accumulation of three months' + sales, and the Rev. Joseph Twichell and Harmony, his wife, came from + Hartford—Twichell to join with the Rev. Thomas K. Beecher in + solemnizing the marriage. Pamela Moffett, a widow now, with her daughter + Annie, grown to a young lady, had come all the way from St. Louis, and + Mrs. Fairbanks from Cleveland. + </p> + <p> + Yet the guests were not numerous, not more than a hundred at most, so it + was a quiet wedding there in the Langdon parlors, those dim, stately rooms + that in the future would hold so much of his history—so much of the + story of life and death that made its beginning there. + </p> + <p> + The wedding-service was about seven o'clock, for Mr. Beecher had a meeting + at the church soon after that hour. Afterward followed the wedding-supper + and dancing, and the bride's father danced with the bride. To the + interested crowd awaiting him at the church Mr. Beecher reported that the + bride was very beautiful, and had on the longest white gloves he had ever + seen; he declared they reached to her shoulders.—[Perhaps for a + younger generation it should be said that Thomas K. Beecher was a brother + of Henry Ward Beecher. He lived and died in Elmira, the almost worshiped + pastor of the Park Congregational Church. He was a noble, unorthodox + teacher. Samuel Clemens at the time of his marriage already strongly + admired him, and had espoused his cause in an article signed “S'cat!” + in the Elmira Advertiser, when he (Beecher) had been assailed by the more + orthodox Elmira clergy. For the “S'cat” article see Appendix + I, at the end of last volume.] + </p> + <p> + It was the next afternoon when they set out for Buffalo, accompanied by + the bride's parents, the groom's relatives, the Beechers, and perhaps one + or two others of that happy company. It was nine o'clock at night when + they arrived, and found Mr. Slee waiting at the station with sleighs to + convey the party to the “boarding-house” he had selected. They + drove and drove, and the sleigh containing the bride and groom got behind + and apparently was bound nowhere in particular, which disturbed the groom + a good deal, for he thought it proper that they should arrive first, to + receive their guests. He commented on Slee's poor judgment in selecting a + house that was so hard to find, and when at length they turned into + fashionable Delaware Avenue, and stopped before one of the most attractive + places in the neighborhood, he was beset with fear concerning the richness + of the locality. + </p> + <p> + They were on the steps when the doors opened, and a perfect fairyland of + lights and decoration was revealed within. The friends who had gone ahead + came out with greetings, to lead in the bride and groom. Servants hurried + forward to take bags and wraps. They were ushered inside; they were led + through beautiful rooms, all newly appointed and garnished. The bridegroom + was dazed, unable to understand the meaning of things, the apparent + ownership and completeness of possession. + </p> + <p> + At last the young wife put her hand upon his arm: + </p> + <p> + “Don't you understand, Youth,” she said; that was always her + name for him. “Don't you understand? It is ours, all ours—everything—a + gift from father!” + </p> + <p> + But even then he could not grasp it; not at first, not until Mr. Langdon + brought a little box and, opening it, handed them the deeds. + </p> + <p> + Nobody quite remembers what was the first remark that Samuel Clemens made + then; but either then or a little later he said: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Langdon, whenever you are in Buffalo, if it's twice a year, + come right here. Bring your bag and stay overnight if you want to. It + sha'n't cost you a cent!” + </p> + <p> + They went in to supper then, and by and by the guests were gone and the + young wedded pair were alone. + </p> + <p> + Patrick McAleer, the young coachman, who would grow old in their employ, + and Ellen, the cook, came in for their morning orders, and were full of + Irish delight at the inexperience and novelty of it all. Then they were + gone, and only the lovers in their new house and their new happiness + remained. + </p> + <p> + And so it was they entered the enchanted land. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0080" id="link2H_4_0080"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LXXV. AS TO DESTINY + </h2> + <p> + If any reader has followed these chapters thus far, he may have wondered, + even if vaguely, at the seeming fatality of events. Mark Twain had but to + review his own life for justification of his doctrine of inevitability—an + unbroken and immutable sequence of cause and effect from the beginning. + Once he said: + </p> + <p> + “When the first living atom found itself afloat on the great + Laurentian sea the first act of that first atom led to the second act of + that first atom, and so on down through the succeeding ages of all life, + until, if the steps could be traced, it would be shown that the first act + of that first atom has led inevitably to the act of my standing here in my + dressing-gown at this instant talking to you.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed the clearest presentment ever offered in the matter of + predestined circumstance—predestined from the instant when that + primal atom felt the vital thrill. Mark Twain's early life, however + imperfectly recorded, exemplifies this postulate. If through the years + still ahead of us the course of destiny seems less clearly defined, it is + only because thronging events make the threads less easy to trace. The web + becomes richer, the pattern more intricate and confusing, but the line of + fate neither breaks nor falters, to the end. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0081" id="link2H_4_0081"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LXXVI. ON THE BUFFALO “EXPRESS” + </h2> + <p> + With the beginning of life in Buffalo, Mark Twain had become already a + world character—a man of large consequence and events. He had no + proper realization of this, no real sense of the size of his conquest; he + still regarded himself merely as a lecturer and journalist, temporarily + popular, but with no warrant to a permanent seat in the world's literary + congress. He thought his success something of an accident. The fact that + he was prepared to settle down as an editorial contributor to a newspaper + in what was then only a big village is the best evidence of a modest + estimate of his talents. + </p> + <p> + He “worked like a horse,” is the verdict of those who were + closely associated with him on the Express. His hours were not regular, + but they were long. Often he was at his desk at eight in the morning, and + remained there until ten or eleven at night. + </p> + <p> + His working costume was suited to comfort rather than show. With coat, + vest, collar, and tie usually removed (sometimes even his shoes), he + lounged in his chair, in any attitude that afforded the larger ease, + pulling over the exchanges; scribbling paragraphs, editorials, humorous + skits, and what not, as the notion came upon him. J. L. Lamed, his + co-worker (he sat on the opposite side of the same table), remembers that + Mark Twain enjoyed his work as he went along—the humor of it—and + that he frequently laughed as some whimsicality or new absurdity came into + his mind. + </p> + <p> + “I doubt,” writes Lamed, “if he ever enjoyed anything + more than the jackknife engraving that he did on a piece of board of a + military map of the siege of Paris, which was printed in the Express from + his original plate, with accompanying explanations and comments. His + half-day of whittling and laughter that went with it are something that I + find pleasant to remember. Indeed, my whole experience of association with + him is a happy memory, which I am fortunate in having.... What one saw of + him was always the actual Mark Twain, acting out of his own nature simply, + frankly, without pretense, and almost without reserve. It was that + simplicity and naturalness in the man which carried his greatest charm.” + </p> + <p> + Lamed, like many others, likens Mark Twain to Lincoln in various of his + characteristics. The two worked harmoniously together: Lamed attending to + the political direction of the journal, Clemens to the literary, and what + might be termed the sentimental side. There was no friction in the + division of labor, never anything but good feeling between them. Clemens + had a poor opinion of his own comprehension of politics, and perhaps as + little regard for Lamed's conception of humor. Once when the latter + attempted something in the way of pleasantry his associate said: + </p> + <p> + “Better leave the humor on this paper to me, Lamed”; and once + when Lamed was away attending the Republican State Convention at Saratoga, + and some editorial comment seemed necessary, Clemens thought it best to + sign the utterance, and to make humor of his shortcomings. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I do not know much about politics, and am not sitting up nights to + learn.... + + I am satisfied that these nominations are all right and sound, and + that they are the only ones that can bring peace to our distracted + country (the only political phrase I am perfectly familiar with and + competent to hurl at the public with fearless confidence—the other + editor is full of them), but being merely satisfied is not enough. + I always like to know before I shout. But I go for Mr. Curtis with + all my strength! Being certain of him, I hereby shout all I know + how. But the others may be a split ticket, or a scratched ticket, + or whatever you call it. + + I will let it alone for the present. It will keep. The other young + man will be back to-morrow, and he will shout for it, split or no + split, rest assured of that. He will prance into this political + ring with his tomahawk and his war-whoop, and then you will hear a + crash and see the scalps fly. He has none of my diffidence. He + knows all about these nominees, and if he don't he will let on to in + such a natural way as to deceive the most critical. He knows + everything—he knows more than Webster's Unabridged and the American + Encyclopedia—but whether he knows anything about a subject or not + he is perfectly willing to discuss it. When he gets back he will + tell you all about these candidates as serenely as if he had been + acquainted with them a hundred years, though, speaking + confidentially, I doubt if he ever heard of any of them till to-day. + I am right well satisfied it is a good, sound, sensible ticket, and + a ticket to win; but wait till he comes. + + In the mean time I go for George William Curtis and take the + chances. + MARK TWAIN. +</pre> + <p> + He had become what Mr. Howells calls entirely “desouthernized” + by this time. From having been of slaveholding stock, and a Confederate + soldier, he had become a most positive Republican, a rampant abolitionist—had + there been anything left to abolish. His sympathy had been always with the + oppressed, and he had now become their defender. His work on the paper + revealed this more and more. He wrote fewer sketches and more editorials, + and the editorials were likely to be either savage assaults upon some + human abuse, or fierce espousals of the weak. They were fearless, + scathing, terrific. Of some farmers of Cohocton, who had taken the law + into their own hands to punish a couple whom they believed to be a + detriment to the community, he wrote: + </p> + <p> + “The men who did that deed are capable of doing any low, sneaking, + cowardly villainy that could be invented in perdition. They are the very + bastards of the devil.” + </p> + <p> + He appended a full list of their names, and added: + </p> + <p> + “If the farmers of Cohocton are of this complexion, what on earth + must a Cohocton rough be like?” + </p> + <p> + But all this happened a long time ago, and we need not detail those + various old interests and labors here. It is enough to say that Mark Twain + on the Express was what he had been from the beginning, and would be to + the end—the zealous champion of justice and liberty; violent and + sometimes wrong in his viewpoint, but never less than fearless and + sincere. Invariably he was for the oppressed. He had a natural instinct + for the right, but, right or wrong, he was for the under dog. + </p> + <p> + Among the best of his editorial contributions is a tribute to Anson + Burlingame, who died February 23, 1870, at St. Petersburg, on his trip + around the world as special ambassador for the Chinese Empire. In this + editorial Clemens endeavored to pay something of his debt to the noble + statesman. He reviewed Burlingame's astonishing career—the career + which had closed at forty-seven, and read like a fairy-tale-and he dwelt + lovingly on his hero's nobility of character. At the close he said: + </p> + <p> + “He was a good man, and a very, very great man. America, lost a son, + and all the world a servant, when he died.” + </p> + <p> + Among those early contributions to the Express is a series called “Around + the World,” an attempt at collaboration with Prof. D. R. Ford, who + did the actual traveling, while Mark Twain, writing in the first person, + gave the letters his literary stamp. At least some of the contributions + were written in this way, such as “Adventures in Hayti,” + “The Pacific,” and “Japan.” These letters exist + to-day only in the old files of the Express, and indeed this is the case + with most of Clemens's work for that paper. It was mainly ephemeral or + timely work, and its larger value has disappeared. Here and there is a + sentence worth remembering. Of two practical jokers who sent in a marriage + notice of persons not even contemplating matrimony, he said: “This + deceit has been practised maliciously by a couple of men whose small souls + will escape through their pores some day if they do not varnish their + hides.” + </p> + <p> + Some of the sketches have been preserved. “Journalism in Tennessee,” + one of the best of his wilder burlesques, is as enjoyable to-day as when + written. “A Curious Dream” made a lasting impression on his + Buffalo readers, and you are pretty certain to hear of it when you mention + Mark Twain in that city to-day. It vividly called attention to the neglect + of the old North Street graveyard. The gruesome vision of the ancestors + deserting with their coffins on their backs was even more humiliating than + amusing, and inspired a movement for reform. It has been effective + elsewhere since then, and may still be read with profit—or + satisfaction—for in a note at the end the reader is assured that if + the cemeteries of his town are kept in good order the dream is not leveled + at his town at all, but “particularly and venomously at the next + town.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0082" id="link2H_4_0082"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LXXVII. THE “GALAXY” + </h2> + <p> + Mark Twain's work on the Express represented only a portion of his + literary activities during his Buffalo residence. The Galaxy, an ambitious + New York magazine of that day—[published by Sheldon & Co. at 498 + and 500 Broadway]—proposed to him that he conduct for them a + humorous department. They would pay $2,400 a year for the work, and allow + him a free hand. There was some discussion as to book rights, but the + arrangement was concluded, and his first instalment, under the general + title of “Memoranda,” appeared in the May number, 1870. In his + Introductory he outlined what the reader might expect, such as “exhaustive + statistical tables,” “Patent Office reports,” and + “complete instructions about farming, even from the grafting of the + seed to the harrowing of the matured crops.” He declared that he + would throw a pathos into the subject of agriculture that would surprise + and delight the world. He added that the “Memoranda” was not + necessarily a humorous department. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I would not conduct an exclusively and professedly humorous + department for any one. I would always prefer to have the privilege + of printing a serious and sensible remark, in case one occurred to + me, without the reader's feeling obliged to consider himself + outraged.... Puns cannot be allowed a place in this department.... + No circumstance, however dismal, will ever be considered a + sufficient excuse for the admission of that last and saddest + evidence of intellectual poverty, the pun. +</pre> + <p> + The Galaxy was really a fine magazine, with the best contributors + obtainable; among them Justin McCarthy, S. M. B. Piatt, Richard Grant + White, and many others well known in that day, with names that still + flicker here and there in its literary twilight. The new department + appealed to Clemens, and very soon he was writing most of his sketches for + it. They were better literature, as a rule, than those published in his + own paper. + </p> + <p> + The first number of the “Memoranda” was fairly representative + of those that followed it. “The Facts in the Case of the Great Beef + Contract,” a manuscript which he had undertaken three years before + and mislaid, was its initial contribution. Besides the “Beef + Contract,” there was a tribute to George Wakeman, a well-known + journalist of those days; a stricture on the Rev. T. DeWitt Talmage, who + had delivered from the pulpit an argument against workingmen occupying + pews in fashionable churches; a presentment of the Chinese situation in + San Francisco, depicting the cruel treatment of the Celestial immigrant; a + burlesque of the Sunday-school “good little boy” story,—[“The + Story of the Good Little Boy Who Did Not Prosper” and the “Beef + Contract” are included in Sketches New and Old; also the Chinese + sketch, under the title, “Disgraceful Persecution of a Boy.”]—and + several shorter skits—and anecdotes, ten pages in all; a rather + generous contract. + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain's comment on Talmage was prompted by an article in which + Talmage had assumed the premise that if workingmen attended the churches + it would drive the better class of worshipers away. Among other things he + said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have a good Christian friend who, if he sat in the front pew in + church, and a workingman should enter the door at the other end, + would smell him instantly. My friend is not to blame for the + sensitiveness of his nose, any more than you would flog a pointer + for being keener on the scent than a stupid watch-dog. The fact is, + if you had all the churches free, by reason of the mixing of the + common people with the uncommon, you would keep one-half of + Christendom sick at their stomach. If you are going to kill the + church thus with bad smells I will have nothing to do with this work + of evangelization. +</pre> + <p> + Commenting on this Mark Twain said—well, he said a good deal more + than we have room for here, but a portion of his closing paragraphs is + worth preserving. He compares the Reverend Mr. Talmage with the early + disciples of Christ—Paul and Peter and the others; or, rather, he + contrasts him with them. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + They healed the very beggars, and held intercourse with people of a + villainous odor every day. If the subject of these remarks had been + chosen among the original Twelve Apostles he would not have + associated with the rest, because he could not have stood the fishy + smell of some of his comrades who came from around the Sea of + Galilee. He would have resigned his commission with some such + remark as he makes in the extract quoted above: “Master, if thou art + going to kill the church thus with bad smells I will have nothing to + do with this work of evangelization.” He is a disciple, and makes + that remark to the Master; the only difference is that he makes it + in the nineteenth instead of the first century. +</pre> + <p> + Talmage was immensely popular at this time, and Mark Twain's open attack + on him must have shocked a good many Galaxy readers, as perhaps his + article on the Chinese cruelties offended the citizens of San Francisco. + It did not matter. He was not likely to worry over the friends he would + lose because of any stand taken for human justice. Lamed said of him: + “He was very far from being one who tried in any way to make himself + popular.” Certainly he never made any such attempt at the expense of + his convictions. + </p> + <p> + The first Galaxy instalment was a sort of platform of principles for the + campaign that was to follow. Not that each month's contribution contained + personal criticism, or a defense of the Chinese (of whom he was always the + champion as long as he lived), but a good many of them did. In the October + number he began a series of letters under the general title of “Goldsmith's + Friend Abroad Again,” supposed to have been written by a Chinese + immigrant in San Francisco, detailing his experience there. In a note the + author says: “No experience is set down in the following letters + which had to be invented. Fancy is not needed to give variety to the + history of the Chinaman's sojourn in America. Plain fact is amply + sufficient.” The letters show how the supposed Chinese writer of + them had set out for America, believing it to be a land whose government + was based on the principle that all men are created equal, and treated + accordingly; how, upon arriving in San Francisco, he was kicked and + bruised and beaten, and set upon by dogs, flung into jail, tried and + condemned without witnesses, his own race not being allowed to testify + against Americans—Irish-Americans—in the San Francisco court. + They are scathing, powerful letters, and one cannot read them, even in + this day of improved conditions, without feeling the hot waves of + resentment and indignation which Mark Twain must have felt when he penned + them. + </p> + <p> + Reverend Mr. Talmage was not the only divine to receive attention in the + “Memoranda.” The Reverend Mr. Sabine, of New York, who had + declined to hold a church burial service for the old actor, George + Holland, came in for the most caustic as well as the most artistic + stricture of the entire series. It deserves preservation to-day, not only + for its literary value, but because no finer defense of the drama, no more + searching sermon on self-righteousness, has ever been put into concrete + form.—[“The Indignity Put Upon the Remains of Gorge Holland by + the Rev. Mr. Sabine”; Galaxy for February, 1871. The reader will + find it complete under Appendix J, at the end of last volume.] + </p> + <p> + The “Little Church Around the Corner” on Twenty-ninth Street + received that happy title from this incident. + </p> + <p> + “There is a little church around the corner that will, perhaps, + permit the service,” Mr. Sabine had said to Holland's friends. + </p> + <p> + The little church did permit the service, and there was conferred upon it + the new name, which it still bears. It has sheltered a long line of actor + folk and their friends since then, earning thereby reverence, gratitude, + and immortal memory.—[Church of the Transfiguration. Memorial + services were held there for Joseph Jefferson; and a memorial window, by + John La Farge, has been placed there in memory of Edwin Booth.] + </p> + <p> + Of the Galaxy contributions a number are preserved in Sketches New and + Old. “How I Edited an Agricultural Paper” is one of the best + of these—an excellent example of Mark Twain's more extravagant style + of humor. It is perennially delightful; in France it has been dramatized, + and is still played. + </p> + <p> + A successful Galaxy feature, also preserved in the Sketches, was the + “Burlesque Map of Paris,” reprinted from the Express. The + Franco-Prussian War was in progress, and this travesty was particularly + timely. It creates only a smile of amusement to-day, but it was all fresh + and delightful then. Schuyler Colfax, by this time Vice-President, wrote + to him: “I have had the heartiest possible laugh over it, and so + have all my family. You are a wicked, conscienceless wag, who ought to be + punished severely.” + </p> + <p> + The “Official Commendations,” which accompany the map, are its + chief charm. They are from Grant, Bismarck, Brigham Young, and others, the + best one coming from one J. Smith, who says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + My wife was for years afflicted with freckles, and though everything + was done for her relief that could be done, all was in vain. But, + sir, since her first glance at your map they have entirely left her. + She has nothing but convulsions now. +</pre> + <p> + It is said that the “Map of Paris” found its way to Berlin, + where the American students in the beer-halls used to pretend to quarrel + over it until they attracted the attention of the German soldiers that + might be present. Then they would wander away and leave it on the table + and watch results. The soldiers would pounce upon it and lose their + tempers over it; then finally abuse it and revile its author, to the + satisfaction of everybody. + </p> + <p> + The larger number of “Memoranda” sketches have properly found + oblivion to-day. They were all, or nearly all, collected by a Canadian + pirate, C. A. Backas, in a volume bearing the title of Memoranda,—[Also + by a harpy named John Camden Hotten (of London), of whom we shall hear + again. Hotten had already pirated The Innocents, and had it on the market + before Routledge could bring out the authorized edition. Routledge later + published the “Memoranda” under the title of Sketches, + including the contents of the Jumping Frog book.]—a book long ago + suppressed. Only about twenty of the Galaxy contributions found place in + Sketches New and Old, five years later, and some of these might have been + spared as literature. “To Raise Poultry,” “John Chinaman + in New York,” and “History Repeats Itself” are valuable + only as examples of his work at that period. The reader may consult them + for himself. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0083" id="link2H_4_0083"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LXXVIII. THE PRIMROSE PATH + </h2> + <p> + But we are losing sight of more important things. From the very beginning + Mark Twain's home meant always more to him than his work. The life at 472 + Delaware Avenue had begun with as fair a promise as any matrimonial + journey ever undertaken: There seemed nothing lacking: a beautiful home, + sufficient income, bright prospects—these things, with health and + love; constitute married happiness. Mrs. Clemens wrote to her sister, Mrs. + Crane, at the end of February: “Sue, we are two as happy people as + you ever saw. Our days seem to be made up of only bright sunlight, with no + shadow in them.” In the same letter the husband added: “Livy + pines and pines every day for you, and I pine and pine every day for you, + and when we both of us are pining at once you would think it was a whole + pine forest let loose.” + </p> + <p> + To Redpath, who was urging lecture engagements for the coming season, he + wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR RED,—I am not going to lecture any more forever. I have got + things ciphered down to a fraction now. I know just about what it + will cost to live, and I can make the money without lecturing. + Therefore, old man, count me out. +</pre> + <p> + And still later, in May: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I guess I am out of the field permanently. Have got a lovely wife, + a lovely house, bewitchingly furnished, a lovely carriage, and a + coachman whose style and dignity are simply awe-in-spiring, nothing + less; and I am making more money than necessary, by considerable, + and therefore why crucify myself nightly on the platform? The + subscriber will have to be excused for the present season at least. +</pre> + <p> + So they were very happy during those early months, acquiring pleasantly + the education which any matrimonial experience is sure to furnish, + accustoming themselves to the uses of housekeeping, to life in + partnership, with all the discoveries and mental and spiritual adaptations + that belong to the close association of marriage. They were far, very far, + apart on many subjects. He was unpolished, untrained, impulsive, sometimes + violent. Twichell remembers that in the earlier days of their acquaintance + he wore a slouch hat pulled down in front, and smoked a cigar that + sometimes tilted up and touched the brim of it. The atmosphere and customs + of frontier life, the Westernisms of that day, still clung to him. Mrs. + Clemens, on the other hand, was conservative, dainty, cultured, spiritual. + He adored her as little less than a saint, and she became, indeed, his + saving grace. She had all the personal refinement which he lacked, and she + undertook the work of polishing and purifying her life companion. She had + no wish to destroy his personality, to make him over, but only to preserve + his best, and she set about it in the right way—gently, and with a + tender gratitude in each achievement. + </p> + <p> + She did not entirely approve of certain lines of his reading; or, rather, + she did not understand them in those days. That he should be fond of + history and the sciences was natural enough, but when the Life of P. T. + Barnum, Written by Himself, appeared, and he sat up nights to absorb it, + and woke early and lighted the lamp to follow the career of the great + showman, she was at a loss to comprehend this particular literary passion, + and indeed was rather jealous of it. She did not realize then his vast + interest in the study of human nature, or that such a book contained what + Mr. Howells calls “the root of the human matter,” the inner + revelation of the human being at first hand. + </p> + <p> + Concerning his religious observances her task in the beginning was easy + enough. Clemens had not at that time formulated any particular doctrines + of his own. His natural kindness of heart, and especially his love for his + wife, inclined him toward the teachings and customs of her Christian faith—unorthodox + but sincere, as Christianity in the Langdon family was likely to be. It + took very little persuasion on his wife's part to establish family prayers + in their home, grace before meals, and the morning reading of a Bible + chapter. Joe Goodman, who made a trip East, and visited them during the + early days of their married life, was dumfounded to see Mark Twain ask a + blessing and join in family worship. Just how long these forms continued + cannot be known to-day; the time of their abandonment has perished from + the recollection of any one now living. + </p> + <p> + It would seem to have been the Bible-reading that wrought the change. The + prayer and the blessing were to him sincere and gracious; but as the + readings continued he realized that he had never before considered the + Bible from a doctrinal point of view, as a guide to spiritual salvation. + To his logical reasoning mind, a large portion of it seemed absurd: a mass + of fables and traditions, mere mythology. From such material humanity had + built its mightiest edifice of hope, the doctrines of its faith. After a + little while he could stand it no longer. + </p> + <p> + “Livy,” he said one day, “you may keep this up if you + want to, but I must ask you to excuse me from it. It is making me a + hypocrite. I don't believe in this Bible. It contradicts my reason. I + can't sit here and listen to it, letting you believe that I regard it, as + you do, in the light of gospel, the word of God.” + </p> + <p> + He was moved to write an article on the human idea of God, ancient and + modern. It contained these paragraphs: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The difference in importance, between the God of the Bible and the + God of the present day, cannot be described, it can only be vaguely + and inadequately figured to the mind.... If you make figures + to represent the earth and moon, and allow a space of one inch + between them, to represent the four hundred thousand miles of + distance which lies between the two bodies, the map will have to be + eleven miles long in order to bring in the nearest fixed star. + —[His figures were far too small. A map drawn on the scale of + 400,000 miles to the inch would need to be 1,100 miles long to take + in both the earth and the nearest fixed star. On such a map the + earth would be one-fiftieth of an inch in diameter—the size of a + small grain of sand.]—So one cannot put the modern heavens on a + map, nor the modern God; but the Bible God and the Bible heavens can + be set down on a slate and yet not be discommoded.... + + The difference between that universe and the modern one revealed by + science is as the difference between a dust-flecked ray in a barn + and the sublime arch of the Milky Way in the skies. Its God was + strictly proportioned to its dimensions. His sole solicitude was + about a handful of truculent nomads. He worried and fretted over + them in a peculiarly and distractingly human way. One day he coaxed + and petted them beyond their due, the next he harried and lashed + them beyond their deserts. He sulked, he cursed, he raged, he + grieved, according to his mood and the circumstances, but all to no + purpose; his efforts were all vain, he could not govern them. When + the fury was on him he was blind to all reason—he not only + slaughtered the offender, but even his harmless little children and + dumb cattle.... + + To trust the God of the Bible is to trust an irascible, vindictive, + fierce and ever fickle and changeful master; to trust the true God + is to trust a Being who has uttered no promises, but whose + beneficent, exact, and changeless ordering of the machinery of his + colossal universe is proof that he is at least steadfast to his + purposes; whose unwritten laws, so far as they affect man, being + equal and impartial, show that he is just and fair; these things, + taken together, suggest that if he shall ordain us to live + hereafter, he will still be steadfast, just, and fair toward us. We + shall not need to require anything more. +</pre> + <p> + It seems mild enough, obvious, even orthodox, now—so far have we + traveled in forty years. But such a declaration then would have shocked a + great number of sincerely devout persons. His wife prevailed upon him not + to print it. She respected his honesty—even his reasoning, but his + doubts were a long grief to her, nevertheless. In time she saw more + clearly with his vision, but this was long after, when she had lived more + with the world, had become more familiar with its larger needs, and the + proportions of created things. + </p> + <p> + They did not mingle much or long with the social life of Buffalo. They + received and returned calls, attended an occasional reception; but neither + of them found such things especially attractive in those days, so they + remained more and more in their own environment. There is an anecdote + which seems to belong here. + </p> + <p> + One Sunday morning Clemens noticed smoke pouring from the upper window of + the house across the street. The owner and his wife, comparatively + newcomers, were seated upon the veranda, evidently not aware of impending + danger. The Clemens household thus far had delayed calling on them, but + Clemens himself now stepped briskly across the street. Bowing with + leisurely politeness, he said: + </p> + <p> + “My name is Clemens; we ought to have called on you before, and I + beg your pardon for intruding now in this informal way, but your house is + on fire.” + </p> + <p> + Almost the only intimate friends they had in Buffalo were in the family of + David Gray, the poet-editor of the Courier. Gray was a gentle, lovable + man. “The gentlest spirit and the loveliest that ever went clothed + in clay, since Sir Galahad laid him to rest,” Mark Twain once said + of him. Both Gray and Clemens were friends of John Hay, and their families + soon became intimate. Perhaps, in time, the Clemens household would have + found other as good friends in the Buffalo circles; but heavy clouds that + had lain unseen just beyond the horizon during those earlier months of + marriage rose suddenly into view, and the social life, whatever it might + have become, was no longer a consideration. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0084" id="link2H_4_0084"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LXXIX. THE OLD HUMAN STORY + </h2> + <p> + Jervis Langdon was never able to accept his son-in-law's invitation to the + new home. His health began to fail that spring, and at the end of March, + with his physician and Mrs. Langdon, he made a trip to the South. In a + letter written at Richmond he said, “I have thrown off all care,” + and named a list of the four great interests in which he was involved. + Under “number 5,” he included “everything,” + adding, “so you see how good I am to follow the counsel of my + children.” He closed: “Samuel, I love your wife and she loves + me. I think it is only fair that you should know it, but you need not + flare up. I loved her before you did, and she loved me before she did you, + and has not ceased since. I see no way but for you to make the most of it.” + He was already a very ill man, and this cheerful letter was among the last + he ever wrote. + </p> + <p> + He was absent six weeks and seemed to improve, but suffered an attack + early in May; in June his condition became critical. Clemens and his wife + were summoned to Elmira, and joined in the nursing, day and night. Clemens + surprised every one by his ability as a nurse. His delicacy and + thoughtfulness were unfailing; his original ways of doing things always + amused and interested the patient. In later years Mark Twain once said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “How much of the nursing did I do? My main watch was from midnight + to four in the morning, nearly four hours. My other watch was a + midday watch, and I think it was nearly three hours. The two + sisters divided the remaining seventeen hours of the twenty-four + hours between them, and each of them tried generously and + persistently to swindle the other out of a part of her watch. I + went to bed early every night, and tried to get sleep enough by + midnight to fit me for my work, but it was always a failure. I went + on watch sleepy and remained miserable, sleepy, and wretched, + straight along through the four hours. I can still see myself + sitting by that bed in the melancholy stillness of the sweltering + night, mechanically waving a palm-leaf fan over the drawn, white + face of the patient. I can still recall my noddings, my fleeting + unconsciousness, when the fan would come to a standstill in my hand, + and I woke up with a start and a hideous shock. During all that + dreary time I began to watch for the dawn long before it came. When + the first faint gray showed through the window-blinds I felt as no + doubt a castaway feels when the dim threads of the looked-for ship + appear against the sky. I was well and strong, but I was a man, + afflicted with a man's infirmity—lack of endurance.” + </pre> + <p> + He always dealt with himself in this unsparing way; but those who were + about him then have left a different story. + </p> + <p> + It was all without avail. Mr. Langdon rallied, and early in July there was + hope for his recovery. He failed again, and on the afternoon of the 6th of + August he died. To Mrs. Clemens, delicate and greatly worn with the + anxiety and strain of watching, the blow was a crushing one. It was the + beginning of a series of disasters which would mark the entire remaining + period of their Buffalo residence. + </p> + <p> + There had been a partial plan for spending the summer in England, and a + more definite one for joining the Twichells in the Adirondacks. Both of + these projects were now abandoned. Mrs. Clemens concluded that she would + be better at home than anywhere else, and invited an old school friend, a + Miss Emma Nye, to visit her. + </p> + <p> + But the shadow of death had not been lifted from the Clemens household. + Miss Nye presently fell ill with typhoid fever. There followed another + long period of anxiety and nursing, ending with the death of the visitor + in the new home, September 29th. The young wife was now in very delicate + health; genuinely ill, in fact. The happy home had become a place of + sorrow-of troubled nights and days. Another friend came to cheer them, and + on this friend's departure Mrs. Clemens drove to the railway station. It + was a hurried trip over rough streets to catch the train. She was + prostrated on her return, and a little later, November 7, 1870, her first + child, Langdon, was prematurely born. A dangerous illness followed, and + complete recovery was long delayed. But on the 12th the crisis seemed + passed, and the new father wrote a playful letter to the Twichells, as + coming from the late arrival: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR UNCLE AND AUNT,—I came into the world on the 7th inst., and + consequently am about five days old now. I have had wretched health + ever since I made my appearance... I am not corpulent, nor am + I robust in any way. At birth I only weighed four and one-half + pounds with my clothes on—and the clothes were the chief feature of + the weight, too, I am obliged to confess, but I am doing finely, all + things considered.... My little mother is very bright and + cheery, and I guess she is pretty happy, but I don't know what + about. She laughs a great deal, notwithstanding she is sick abed. + + P. S.—Father says I had better write because you will be more + interested in me, just now, than in the rest of the family. +</pre> + <p> + A week later Clemens, as himself, wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Livy is up and the prince keeps her busy and anxious these latter + days and nights, but I am a bachelor up-stairs and don't have to + jump up and get the soothing sirup, though I would as soon do it as + not, I assure you. (Livy will be certain to read this letter.) + + Tell Harmony that I do hold the baby, and do it pretty handily too, + though with occasional apprehensions that his loose head will fall + off. I don't have to quiet him; he hardly ever utters a cry. He is + always thinking about something. He is a patient, good little baby. +</pre> + <p> + Further along he refers to one of his reforms: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Smoke? I always smoke from three till five on Sunday afternoons, + and in New York, the other day, I smoked a week, day and night. But + when Livy is well I smoke only those two hours on Sunday. I'm boss + of the habit now, and shall never let it boss me any more. + Originally I quit solely on Livy's account (not that I believed + there was the faintest reason in the matter, but just as I would + deprive myself of sugar in my coffee if she wished it, or quit + wearing socks if she thought them immoral), and I stick to it yet on + Livy's account, and shall always continue to do so without a pang. + But somehow it seems a pity that you quit, for Mrs. T. didn't mind + it, if I remember rightly. Ah, it is turning one's back upon a + kindly Providence to spurn away from us the good creature he sent to + make the breath of life a luxury as well as a necessity, enjoyable + as well as useful. To go quit smoking, when there ain't any + sufficient excuse for it!—why, my old boy, when they used to tell + me I would shorten my life ten years by smoking, they little knew + the devotee they were wasting their puerile words upon; they little + knew how trivial and valueless I would regard a decade that had no + smoking in it! But I won't persuade you, Twichell—I won't until I + see you again—but then we'll smoke for a week together, and then + shut off again. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0085" id="link2H_4_0085"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LXXX. LITERARY PROJECTS + </h2> + <p> + The success of the Innocents naturally made a thrifty publisher like Bliss + anxious for a second experiment. He had begun early in the year to talk + about another book, but nothing had come of it beyond a project or two, + more or less hazy and unpursued. Clemens at one time developed a plan for + a Noah's Ark book, which was to detail the cruise of the Ark in diaries + kept by various members of it-Shem, Ham, and the others. He really wrote + some of it at the time, and it was an idea he never entirely lost track + of. All along among his manuscripts appear fragments from those ancient + voyagers. One of the earlier entries will show the style and purpose of + the undertaking. It is from Shem's record: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Friday: Papa's birthday. He is 600 years old. We celebrated it in + a big, black tent. Principal men of the tribe present. Afterward + they were shown over the ark, which was looking desolate and empty + and dreary on account of a misunderstanding with the workmen about + wages. Methuselah was as free with his criticisms as usual, and as + voluble and familiar, which I and my brothers do not like; for we + are past our one hundredth year and married. He still calls me + Shemmy, just as he did when I was a child of sixty. I am still but + a youth, it is true, but youth has its feelings, and I do not like + this.... + + Saturday: Keeping the Sabbath. + + Sunday: Papa has yielded the advance and everybody is hard at work. + The shipyard is so crowded that the men hinder each other; everybody + hurrying or being hurried; the rush and confusion and shouting and + wrangling are astonishing to our family, who have always been used + to a quiet, country life. +</pre> + <p> + It was from this germ that in a later day grew the diaries of Adam and + Eve, though nothing very satisfactory ever came of this preliminary + attempt. The author had faith in it, however. To Bliss he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I mean to take plenty of time and pains with the Noah's Ark book; + maybe it will be several years before it is all written, but it will + be a perfect lightning striker when it is done. + + You can have the first say (that is plain enough) on that or any + other book I may prepare for the press, as long as you deal in a + fair, open, and honorable way with me. I do not think you will ever + find me doing otherwise with you. I can get a book ready for you + any time you want it; but you can't want one before this time next + year, so I have plenty of time. +</pre> + <p> + Bliss was only temporarily appeased. He realized that to get a book ready + by the time he wanted it-a book of sufficient size and importance to + maintain the pace set by the Innocents meant rather more immediate action + than his author seemed to contemplate. Futhermore, he knew that other + publishers were besieging the author of the Innocents; a disquieting + thought. In early July, when Mr. Langdon's condition had temporarily + improved, Bliss had come to Elmira and proposed a book which should relate + the author's travels and experiences in the Far West. It was an inviting + subject, and Clemens, by this time more attracted by the idea of + authorship and its rewards, readily enough agreed to undertake the volume. + He had been offered half profits, and suggested that the new contract be + arranged upon these terms. Bliss, figuring on a sale of 100,000 copies, + proposed seven and one-half per cent. royalty as an equivalent, and the + contract was so arranged. In after-years, when the cost of manufacture and + paper had become greatly reduced, Clemens, with but a confused notion of + business details, believed he had been misled by Bliss in this contract, + and was bitter and resentful accordingly. The figures remain, however, to + show that Bliss dealt fairly. Seven and one-half per cent. of a + subscription book did represent half profits up to 100,000 copies when the + contract was drawn; but it required ten years to sell that quantity, and + in that time conditions had changed. Bliss could hardly foresee that these + things would be so, and as he was dead when the book touched the 100,000 + mark he could not explain or readjust matters, whatever might have been + his inclination. + </p> + <p> + Clemens was pleased enough with the contract when it was made. To Orion he + wrote July 15 (1870): + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Per contract I must have another six-hundred-page book ready for my + publisher January 1st, and I only began it to-day. The subject of + it is a secret, because I may possibly change it. But as it stands + I propose to do up Nevada and California, beginning with the trip + across the country in the stage. Have you a memorandum of the route + we took, or the names of any of the stations we stopped at? Do you + remember any of the scenes, names, incidents, or adventures of the + coach trip?—for I remember next to nothing about the matter. Jot + down a foolscap page of items for me. I wish I could have two days' + talk with you. + + I suppose I am to get the biggest copyright this time ever paid on a + subscription book in this country. +</pre> + <p> + The work so promptly begun made little progress. Hard days of illness and + sorrow followed, and it was not until September that it was really under + way. His natural enthusiasm over any new undertaking possessed him. On the + 4th he wrote Bliss: + </p> + <p> + During the past week I have written the first four chapters of the book, + and I tell you 'The Innocents Abroad' will have to get up early to beat + it. It will be a book that will jump straight into continental celebrity + the first month it is issued. + </p> + <p> + He prophesied a sale of 90,000 copies during the first twelve months and + declared, “I see the capabilities of the subject.” + </p> + <p> + But further disasters, even then impending, made continued effort + impossible; the prospect of the new book for a time became gloomy, the + idea of it less inspiring. Other plans presented themselves, and at one + time he thought of letting the Galaxy publishers get out a volume of his + sketches. In October he wrote Bliss that he was “driveling along + tolerably fair on the book, getting off from twelve to twenty pages of + manuscript a day.” Bliss naturally discouraged the Galaxy idea, and + realizing that the new book might be long delayed, agreed to get out a + volume of miscellany sufficiently large and important for subscription + sales. He was doubtful of the wisdom of this plan, and when Clemens + suddenly proposed a brand-new scheme his publisher very readily agreed to + hold back the publication of Sketches indefinitely. + </p> + <p> + The new book was to be adventures in the diamond mines of South Africa, + then newly opened and of wide public interest. Clemens did not propose to + visit the mines himself, but to let another man do the traveling, make the + notes, and write or tell him the story, after which Clemens would enlarge + and elaborate it in his own fashion. His adaptation of the letters of + Professor Ford, a year earlier, had convinced him that his plan would work + out successfully on a larger scale; he fixed upon his old friend, J. H. + Riley, of Washington—[“Riley-Newspaper Correspondent.” + See Sketches.]—(earlier of San Francisco), as the proper person to + do the traveling. At the end of November he wrote Bliss: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have put my greedy hands upon the best man in America for my + purpose, and shall start him to the diamond field in South Africa + within a fortnight at my expense... that the book will have a + perfectly beautiful sale. +</pre> + <p> + He suggested that Bliss advance Riley's expense money, the amount to be + deducted from the first royalty returns; also he proposed an increased + royalty, probably in view of the startling splendor of the new idea. Bliss + was duly impressed, and the agreement was finally made on a basis of eight + and one-half per cent., with an advance of royalty sufficient to see Riley + to South Africa and return. + </p> + <p> + Clemens had not yet heard from Riley definitely when he wrote his glowing + letter to Bliss. He took it for granted that Riley, always an adventurous + sort, would go. When Riley wrote him that he felt morally bound to the + Alta, of which he was then Washington correspondent, also in certain other + directions till the end of the session, Clemens wrote him at great length, + detailing his scheme in full and urging him to write instantly to the Alta + and others, asking a release on the ground of being offered a rare + opportunity to improve his fortunes. + </p> + <p> + You know right well that I would not have you depart a hair from any + obligation for any money. The boundless confidence that I have in you is + born of a conviction of your integrity in small as well as in great + things. I know plenty of men whose integrity I would trust to here, but + not off yonder in Africa. + </p> + <p> + His proposal, in brief, to Riley was that the latter should make the trip + to Africa without expense to himself, collect memoranda, and such diamond + mines as might be found lying about handy. Upon his return he was to take + up temporary residence in the Clemens household until the book was + finished, after which large benefits were to accrue to everybody + concerned. In the end Riley obtained a release from his obligations and + was off for the diamond mines and fortune. + </p> + <p> + Poor fellow! He was faithful in his mission, and it is said that he really + located a mining claim that would have made him and his independent for + all time to come; but returning home with his precious memoranda and the + news of good fortune, he accidentally wounded himself with a fork while + eating; blood-poisoning set in (they called it cancer then), and he was + only able to get home to die. His memoranda were never used, his mining + claim was never identified. Certainly, death was closely associated with + Mark Twain's fortunes during those earlier days of his married life. + </p> + <p> + On the whole the Buffalo residence was mainly a gloomy one; its ventures + were attended by ill-fortune. For some reason Mark Twain's connection with + the Express, while it had given the paper a wide reputation, had not + largely increased its subscription. Perhaps his work on it was too varied + and erratic. Nasby, who had popularized the Toledo Blade, kept steadily to + one line. His farmer public knew always just what to expect when their + weekly edition arrived. + </p> + <p> + Clemens and his wife dreamed of a new habitation, and new faces and + surroundings. They agreed to offer their home and his interests in the + Express for sale. They began to talk of Hartford, where Twichell lived, + and where Orion Clemens and his wife had recently located. + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain's new fortunes had wrought changes in the affairs of his + relatives. Already, before his marriage, he had prospected towns here and + there with a view to finding an Eastern residence for his mother and + sister, and he had kept Orion's welfare always in mind. When Pamela and + her daughter came to his wedding he told them of a little city by the name + of Fredonia (New York), not far from Buffalo, where he thought they might + find a pleasant home. + </p> + <p> + “I went in there by night and out by night,” he said, “so + I saw none of it, but I had an intelligent, attractive audience. Prospect + Fredonia and let me know what it is like. Try to select a place where a + good many funerals pass. Ma likes funerals. If you can pick a good funeral + corner she will be happy.” + </p> + <p> + It was in her later life that Jane Clemens had developed this particular + passion. She would consult the morning paper for any notice of obsequies + and attend those that were easy of access. Watching the processions go by + gave her a peculiar joy. Mrs. Moffett and her daughter did go to Fredonia + immediately following the wedding. They found it residentially attractive, + and rented a house before returning to St. Louis, a promptness that + somewhat alarmed the old lady, who did not altogether fancy the idea of + being suddenly set down in a strange house, in a strange land, even though + it would be within hailing distance of Sam and his new wife. Perhaps the + Fredonia funerals were sufficiently numerous and attractive, for she soon + became attached to the place, and entered into the spirit of the life + there, joining its temperance crusades, and the like, with zest and + enjoyment. + </p> + <p> + Onion remained in St. Louis, but when Bliss established a paper called The + Publisher, and wanted an editor, he was chosen for the place, originally + offered to his brother; the latter, writing to Onion, said: + </p> + <p> + If you take the place with an air of perfect confidence in yourself, never + once letting anything show in your bearing but a quiet, modest, entire, + and perfect confidence in your ability to do pretty much anything in the + world, Bliss will think you are the very man he needs; but don't show any + shadow of timidity or unsoldierly diffidence, for that sort of thing is + fatal to advancement. + </p> + <p> + I warn you thus because you are naturally given to knocking your pot over + in this way, when a little judicious conduct would make it boil. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0086" id="link2H_4_0086"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LXXXI. SOME FURTHER LITERARY MATTERS + </h2> + <p> + Meantime The Innocents Abroad had continued to prosper. Its author ranked + mainly as a humorist, but of such colossal proportions that his + contemporaries had seemed to dwindle; the mighty note of the “Frog + of Calaveras” had dwarfed a score of smaller peepers. At the end of + a year from its date of publication the book had sold up to 67,000 and was + continuing at the rate of several thousand monthly. + </p> + <p> + “You are running it in staving, tiptop, first-class style,” + Clemens wrote to Bliss. “On the average ten people a day come and + hunt me up to tell me I am a benefactor! I guess that is a part of the + program we didn't expect, in the first place.” + </p> + <p> + Apparently the book appealed to readers of every grade. One hundred and + fifteen copies were in constant circulation at the Mercantile Library, in + New York, while in the most remote cabins of America it was read and + quoted. Jack Van Nostrand, making a long horseback tour of Colorado, + wrote: + </p> + <p> + I stopped a week ago in a ranch but a hundred miles from nowhere. The + occupant had just two books: the Bible and The Innocents Abroad—the + former in good repair. + </p> + <p> + Across the ocean the book had found no less favor, and was being + translated into many and strange tongues. By what seems now some veritable + magic its author's fame had become literally universal. The consul at + Hongkong, discussing English literature with a Chinese acquaintance, a + mandarin, mentioned The Pilgrim's Progress. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed, I have read it!” the mandarin said, eagerly. + “We are enjoying it in China, and shall have it soon in our own + language. It is by Mark Twain.” + </p> + <p> + In England the book had an amazing vogue from the beginning, and English + readers were endeavoring to outdo the Americans in appreciation. Indeed, + as a rule, English readers of culture, critical readers, rose to an + understanding of Mark Twain's literary value with greater promptness than + did the same class of readers at home. There were exceptions, of course. + There were English critics who did not take Mark Twain seriously, there + were American critics who did. Among the latter was a certain William + Ward, an editor of a paper down in Macon, Georgia—The Beacon. Ward + did not hold a place with the great magazine arbiters of literary rank. He + was only an obscure country editor, but he wrote like a prophet. His + article—too long to quote in full—concerned American humorists + in general, from Washington Irving, through John Phoenix, Philander + Doesticks, Sut Lovingwood, Artemus Ward, Josh Billings and Petroleum V. + Nasby, down to Mark Twain. With the exception of the first and last named + he says of them: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + They have all had, or will have, their day. Some of them are + resting beneath the sod, and others still live whose work will + scarcely survive them. Since Irving no humorist in prose has held + the foundation of a permanent fame except it be Mark Twain, and + this, as in the case of Irving, is because he is a pure writer. + Aside from any subtle mirth that lurks through his composition, the + grace and finish of his more didactic and descriptive sentences + indicate more than mediocrity. +</pre> + <p> + The writer then refers to Mark Twain's description of the Sphinx, + comparing it with Bulwer's, which he thinks may have influenced it. He was + mistaken in this, for Clemens had not read Bulwer—never could read + him at any length. + </p> + <p> + Of the English opinions, that of The Saturday Review was perhaps most + doubtful. It came along late in 1870, and would hardly be worth recalling + if it were not for a resulting, or collateral, interest. Clemens saw + notice of this review before he saw the review itself. A paragraph in the + Boston Advertiser spoke of The Saturday Review as treating the absurdities + of the Innocents from a serious standpoint. The paragraph closed: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We can imagine the delight of the humorist in reading this tribute + to his power; and indeed it is so amusing in itself that he can + hardly do better than reproduce the article in full in his next + monthly “Memoranda.” + </pre> + <p> + The old temptation to hoax his readers prompted Mark Twain to “reproduce” + in the Galaxy, not the Review article, which he had not yet seen, but an + imaginary Review article, an article in which the imaginary reviewer would + be utterly devoid of any sense of humor and treat the most absurd + incidents of The New Pilgrim's Progress as if set down by the author in + solemn and serious earnest. The pretended review began: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Lord Macaulay died too soon. We never felt this so deeply as when + we finished the last chapter of the above-named extravagant work. + Macaulay died too soon; for none but he could mete out complete and + comprehensive justice to the insolence, the impudence, the + presumption, the mendacity, and, above all, the majestic ignorance + of this author. +</pre> + <p> + The review goes on to cite cases of the author's gross deception. It says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Let the cultivated English student of human nature picture to + himself this Mark Twain as a person capable of doing the following + described things; and not only doing them, but, with incredible + innocence, printing them tranquilly and calmly in a book. For + instance: + + He states that he entered a hair-dresser's in Paris to get a shave, + and the first “rake” the barber gave him with his razor it loosened + his “hide,” and lifted him out of the chair. + + This is unquestionably extravagant. In Florence he was so annoyed + by beggars that he pretends to have seized and eaten one in a + frantic spirit of revenge. There is, of course, no truth in this. + He gives at full length the theatrical program, seventeen or + eighteen hundred years old, which he professes to have found in the + ruins of the Colosseum, among the dirt-and mold and rubbish. It is + a sufficient comment upon this subject to remark that even a cast- + iron program would not have lasted so long under the circumstances. +</pre> + <p> + There were two and one-half pages of this really delightful burlesque + which the author had written with huge-enjoyment, partly as a joke on the + Review, partly to trick American editors, who he believed would accept it + as a fresh and startling proof of the traditional English lack of humor. + </p> + <p> + But, as in the early sage-brush hoaxes, he rather overdid the thing. + Readers and editors readily enough accepted it as genuine, so far as + having come from The Saturday Review; but most of them, regarded it as a + delicious bit of humor which Mark Twain himself had taken seriously, and + was therefore the one sold. This was certainly startling, and by no means + gratifying. In the next issue he undertook that saddest of all + performances with tongue or pen: he explained his joke, and insisted on + the truth of the explanation. Then he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + If any man doubts my word now I will kill him. No, I will not kill + him; I will win his money. I will bet him twenty to one, and let + any New York publisher hold the stakes, that the statements I have + above made as to the authorship of the article in question are + entirely true. +</pre> + <p> + But the Cincinnati Enquirer persisted in continuing the joke—in + “rubbing it in,” as we say now. The Enquirer declared that + Mark Twain had been intensely mortified at having been so badly taken in; + that his explanation in the Galaxy was “ingenious, but unfortunately + not true.” The Enquirer maintained that The Saturday Review of + October 8, 1870, did contain the article exactly as printed in the “Memoranda,” + and advised Mark Twain to admit that he was sold, and say no more about + it. + </p> + <p> + This was enraging. Mark Twain had his own ideas as to how far a joke might + be carried without violence, and this was a good way beyond the limits. He + denounced the Enquirer's statement as a “pitiful, deliberate + falsehood,” in his anger falling into the old-time phrasing of + newspaper editorial abuse. He offered to bet them a thousand dollars in + cash that they could not prove their assertions, and asked pointedly, in + conclusion: “Will they swallow that falsehood ignominiously, or will + they send an agent to the Galaxy office? I think the Cincinnati Enquirer + must be edited by children.” He promised that if they did not accept + his financial proposition he would expose them in the next issue. + </p> + <p> + The incident closed there. He was prevented, by illness in his household, + from contributing to the next issue, and the second issue following was + his final “Memoranda” installment. So the matter perished and + was forgotten. It was his last editorial hoax. Perhaps he concluded that + hoaxes in any form were dangerous playthings; they were too likely to go + off at the wrong end. + </p> + <p> + It was with the April number (1871) that he concluded his relations with + the Galaxy. In a brief valedictory he gave his reasons: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have now written for the Galaxy a year. For the last eight + months, with hardly an interval, I have had for my fellows and + comrades, night and day, doctors and watchers of the sick! During + these eight months death has taken two members of my home circle and + malignantly threatened two others. All this I have experienced, yet + all the time have been under contract to furnish “humorous” matter, + once a month, for this magazine. I am speaking the exact truth in + the above details. Please to put yourself in my place and + contemplate the grisly grotesqueness of the situation. I think that + some of the “humor” I have written during this period could have + been injected into a funeral sermon without disturbing the solemnity + of the occasion. + + The “Memoranda” will cease permanently with this issue of the + magazine. To be a pirate on a low salary, and with no share in the + profits of the business, used to be my idea of an uncomfortable + occupation, but I have other views now. To be a monthly humorist in + a cheerless time is drearier. +</pre> + <p> + Without doubt he felt a glad relief in being rid of this recurrent, + imperative demand. He wrote to Orion that he had told the Galaxy people he + would not write another article, long or short, for less than $500, and + preferred not to do it at all. + </p> + <p> + The Galaxy department and the work on the Express were Mark Twain's + farewell to journalism; for the “Memoranda” was essentially + journalistic, almost as much so, and as liberally, as his old-time + Enterprise position. Apparently he wrote with absolute freedom, unhampered + by editorial policy or restriction. The result was not always pleasant, + and it was not always refined. We may be certain that it was because of + Mrs. Clemens's heavy burdens that year, and her consequent inability to + exert a beneficent censorship, that more than one—more than a dozen—of + the “Memoranda” contributions were permitted to see the light + of print. + </p> + <p> + As a whole, the literary result of Mark Twain's Buffalo period does not + reach the high standard of The Innocents Abroad. It was a retrogression—in + some measure a return to his earlier form. It had been done under + pressure, under heavy stress of mind, as he said. Also there was another + reason; neither the subject treated nor the environment of labor had + afforded that lofty inspiration which glorified every step of the Quaker + City journey. Buffalo was a progressive city—a beautiful city, as + American cities go—but it was hardly an inspiring city for + literature, and a dull, dingy newspaper office was far, very far, from the + pleasant decks of the Quaker City, the camp-fires of Syria, the blue sky + and sea of the Mediterranean. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0087" id="link2H_4_0087"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LXXXII. THE WRITING OF “ROUGHING IT” + </h2> + <p> + The third book published by Mark Twa in was not the Western book he was + preparing for Bliss. It was a small volume, issued by Sheldon & Co., + entitled Mark Twain's Autobiography (Burlesque) and First Romance. The + Romance was the “Awful, Terrible Medieval Romance” which had + appeared in the Express at the beginning of 1870. The burlesque + autobiography had not previously appeared. The two made a thin little + book, which, in addition to its literary features, had running through it + a series of full-page, irrelevant pictures—-cartoons of the Erie + Railroad Ring, presented as illustrations of a slightly modified version + of “The House That Jack Built.” The “House” was + the Erie headquarters, the purpose being to illustrate the swindling + methods of the Ring. The faces of Jay Gould, James Fisk, Jr., John T. + Hoffman, and others of the combination, are chiefly conspicuous. The + publication was not important, from any standpoint. Literary burlesque is + rarely important, and it was far from Mark Twain's best form of + expression. A year or two later he realized the mistake of this book, + bought in the plates and destroyed them. + </p> + <p> + Meantime the new Western book was at a standstill. To Orion, in March, he + wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I am still nursing Livy night and day. I am nearly worn out. We + shall go to Elmira ten days hence (if Livy can travel on a mattress + then), and stay there until I finish the California book, say three + months. But I can't begin work right away when I get there; must + have a week's rest, for I have been through thirty days' terrific + siege. +</pre> + <p> + He promised to forward some of the manuscript soon. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Hold on four or five days and I will see if I can get a few chapters + fixed to send to Bliss.... + + I have offered this house and the Express for sale, and when we go + to Elmira we leave here for good. I shall not select a new home + till the book is finished, but we have little doubt that Hartford + will be the place. +</pre> + <p> + He disposed of his interest in the Express in April, at a sacrifice of + $10,000 on the purchase price. Mrs. Clemens and the baby were able to + travel, and without further delay he took them to Elmira, to Quarry Farm. + </p> + <p> + Quarry Farm, the home of Mrs. Clemens's sister, Mrs. Theodore Crane, is a + beautiful hilltop, with a wide green slope, overlooking the hazy city and + the Chemung River, beyond which are the distant hills. It was bought quite + incidentally by Mr. and Mrs. Langdon, who, driving by one evening, stopped + to water the horses and decided that it would make a happy summer retreat, + where the families could combine their housekeeping arrangements during + vacation days. When the place had first been purchased, they had debated + on a name for it. They had tried several, among them “Go-as-you-please + Hall,” “Crane's Nest,” and had finally agreed upon + “Rest and Be Thankful.” But this was only its official name. + There was an abandoned quarry up the hill, a little way from the house, + and the title suggested by Thomas K. Beecher came more naturally to the + tongue. The place became Quarry Farm, and so remains. + </p> + <p> + Clemens and his wife had fully made up their minds to live in Hartford. + They had both conceived an affection for the place, Clemens mainly because + of Twichell, while both of them yearned for the congenial literary and + social atmosphere, and the welcome which they felt awaited them. Hartford + was precisely what Buffalo in that day was not—a home for the + literary man. It held a distinguished group of writers, most of whom the + Clemenses already knew. Furthermore, with Bliss as publisher of the Mark + Twain books, it held their chief business interests. + </p> + <p> + Their plans for going were not very definite as to time. Clemens found + that his work went better at the farm, and that Mrs. Clemens and the + delicate baby daily improved. They decided to remain at Quarry Farm for + the summer, their first summer in that beautiful place which would mean so + much to them in the years to come. + </p> + <p> + It was really Joe Goodman, as much as anything, that stirred a fresh + enthusiasm in the new book. Goodman arrived just when the author's spirits + were at low ebb. + </p> + <p> + “Joe,” he said, “I guess I'm done for. I don't appear to + be able to get along at all with my work, and what I do write does not + seem valuable. I'm afraid I'll never be able to reach the standard of 'The + Innocents Abroad' again. Here is what I have written, Joe. Read it, and + see if that is your opinion.” + </p> + <p> + Goodman took the manuscript and seated himself in a chair, while Clemens + went over to a table and pretended to work. Goodman read page after page, + critically, and was presently absorbed in it. Clemens watched him + furtively, till he could stand it no longer. Then he threw down his pen, + exclaiming: + </p> + <p> + “I knew it! I knew it! I am writing nothing but rot. You have sat + there all this time reading without a smile, and pitying the ass I am + making of myself. But I am not wholly to blame. I am not strong enough to + fight against fate. I have been trying to write a funny book, with dead + people and sickness everywhere. Mr. Langdon died first, then a young lady + in our house, and now Mrs. Clemens and the baby have been at the point of + death all winter! Oh, Joe, I wish to God I could die myself!” + </p> + <p> + “Mark,” said Joe, “I was reading critically, not for + amusement, and so far as I have read, and can judge, this is one of the + best things you have ever written. I have found it perfectly absorbing. + You are doing a great book!” + </p> + <p> + Clemens knew that Goodman never spoke except from conviction, and the + verdict was to him like a message of life handed down by an archangel. He + was a changed man instantly. He was all enthusiasm, full of his subject, + eager to go on. He proposed to pay Goodman a salary to stay there and keep + him company and furnish him with inspiration—the Pacific coast + atmosphere and vernacular, which he feared had slipped away from him. + Goodman declined the salary, but extended his visit as long as his plans + would permit, and the two had a happy time together, recalling old + Comstock days. Every morning, for a month or more, they used to tramp over + the farm. They fell into the habit of visiting the old quarry and pawing + over the fragments in search of fossil specimens. Both of them had a + poetic interest in geology, its infinite remotenesses and its testimonies. + Without scientific knowledge, they took a deep pleasure in accumulating a + collection, which they arranged on boards torn from an old fence, until + they had enough specimens to fill a small museum. They imagined they could + distinguish certain geological relations and families, and would talk + about trilobites, the Old Red Sandstone period, and the azoic age, or + follow random speculation to far-lying conclusions, developing vague + humors of phrase and fancy, having altogether a joyful good time. + </p> + <p> + Another interest that developed during Goodman's stay was in one Ruloff, + who was under death sentence for a particularly atrocious murder. The + papers were full of Ruloff's prodigious learning. It was said that he had + in preparation a work showing the unity of all languages. Goodman and + Clemens agreed that Ruloff's death would be a great loss to mankind, even + though he was clearly a villain and deserved his sentence. They decided + that justice would be served just as well if some stupid person were hung + in his place, and following out this fancy Clemens one morning put aside + his regular work and wrote an article to the Tribune, offering to supply a + substitute for Ruloff. He signed it simply “Samuel Langhorne,” + and it was published as a serious communication, without comment, so far + as the Tribune was concerned. Other papers, however, took it up and it was + widely copied and commented upon. Apparently no one ever identified, Mark + Twain with the authorship of the letter, which, by the way, does not + appear to have prolonged Ruloff's earthly usefulness.—[The reader + will find the Ruloff letter in full under Appendix K, at the end of last + volume.] + </p> + <p> + Life at the farm may have furnished agricultural inspiration, for Clemens + wrote something about Horace Greeley's farming, also a skit concerning + Henry Ward Beecher's efforts in that direction. Of Mr. Beecher's farming + he said: + </p> + <p> + “His strawberries would be a comfortable success if robins would eat + turnips.” + </p> + <p> + The article amused Beecher, and perhaps Greeley was amused too, for he + wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MARK,—You are mistaken as to my criticisms on your farming. I + never publicly made any, while you have undertaken to tell the exact + cost per pint of my potatoes and cabbages, truly enough the + inspiration of genius. If you will really betake yourself to + farming, or even to telling what you know about it, rather than what + you don't know about mine, I will not only refrain from disparaging + criticism, but will give you my blessing. + + Yours, HORACE GREELEY. +</pre> + <p> + The letter is in Mr. Greeley's characteristic scrawl, and no doubt + furnished inspiration for the turnip story in 'Roughing It', also the + model for the pretended facsimile of Greeley's writing. + </p> + <p> + Altogether that was a busy, enterprising summer at Quarry Farm. By the + middle of May, Clemens wrote to Bliss that he had twelve hundred + manuscript pages of the new book already written, and that he was turning + out the remainder at the rate of from thirty to sixty-five per day. He was + in high spirits by this time. The family health had improved, and + prospects were bright. + </p> + <p> + I have enough manuscript on hand now to make (allowing for engravings) + about four hundred pages of the book, consequently am two-thirds done. I + intended to run up to Hartford about the middle of the week and take it + along, but I find myself so thoroughly interested in my work now (a thing + I have not experienced for months) that I can't bear to lose a single + moment of the inspiration. So I will stay here and peg away as long as it + lasts. My present idea is to write as much more as I have already written, + and then collect from the mass the very best chapters and discard the + rest. When I get it done I want to see the man who will begin to read it + and not finish it. Nothing grieves me now; nothing troubles me, nothing + bothers me or gets my attention. I don't think of anything but the book, + and don't have an hour's unhappiness about anything, and don't care two + cents whether school keeps or not. The book will be done soon now. It will + be a starchy book; the dedication will be worth the price of the volume. + Thus: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + TO THE LATE CAIN + THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED + + not on account of respect for his memory, for it merits little + respect; not on account of sympathy for him, for his bloody deed + places him without the pale of sympathy, strictly speaking, but + out of a mere humane commiseration for him, in that it was his + misfortune to live in a dark age that knew not the beneficent + insanity plea. +</pre> + <p> + Probably Mrs. Clemens diverted this picturesque dedication in favor of the + Higbie inscription, or perhaps the author never really intended the + literary tribute to Cain. The impulse that inspired it, however, was + characteristic. + </p> + <p> + In a postscript to this letter he adds: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + My stock is looking up. I am getting the bulliest offers for books + and almanacs; am flooded with lecture invitations, and one + periodical offers me $6,000 cash for twelve articles of any length, + and on any subject, treated humorously or otherwise. +</pre> + <p> + He set in to make hay while the sun was shining. In addition to the + California book, which was now fast nearing completion, he discussed a + scheme with Goodman for a six-hundred-page work which they were to do + jointly; he planned and wrote one or two scenes from a Western play, to be + built from episodes in the new book (one of them was the “Arkansas” + incident, related in Chapter XXXI); he perfected one of his several + inventions—an automatically adjusting vest-strap; he wrote a number + of sketches, made an occasional business trip to New York and Hartford; + prospected the latter place for a new home. The shadow which had hung over + the sojourn in Buffalo seemed to have lifted. + </p> + <p> + He had promised Bliss some contributions for his new paper, and in June he + sent three sketches. In an accompanying letter he says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Here are three articles which you may have if you will pay $125 for + the lot. If you don't want them I'll sell them to the Galaxy, but + not for a cent less than three times the money.... If you take them + pay one-tenth of the $125 in weekly instalments to Orion till he has + received it all. +</pre> + <p> + He reconsidered his resolution not to lecture again, and closed with + Redpath for the coming season. He found himself in a lecture-writing + fever. He wrote three of them in succession: one on Artemus Ward, another + on “Reminiscences of Some Pleasant Characters I Have Met,” and + a third one based on chapters from the new book. Of the “Reminiscence” + lecture he wrote Redpath: + </p> + <p> + “It covers my whole acquaintance; kings, lunatics, idiots, and all.” + Immediately afterward he wrote that he had prepared still another lecture, + “title to be announced later.” + </p> + <p> + “During July I'll decide which one I like best,” he said. He + instructed Redpath not to make engagements for him to lecture in churches. + “I never made a success of a lecture in a church yet. People are + afraid to laugh in a church.” + </p> + <p> + Redpath was having difficulties in arranging a circuit to suit him. + Clemens had prejudices against certain towns and localities, prejudices + that were likely to change overnight. In August he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR RED,—I am different from other women; my mind changes oftener. + People who have no mind can easily be stead fast and firm, but when + a man is loaded down to the guards with it, as I am, every heavy sea + of foreboding or inclination, maybe of indolence, shifts the cargo. + See? Therefore, if you will notice, one week I am likely to give + rigid instructions to confine me to New England; the next week send + me to Arizona; the next week withdraw my name; the next week give + you full, untrammeled swing; and the week following modify it. You + must try to keep the run of my mind, Redpath that is your business, + being the agent, and it always was too many for me.... Now about + the West this week, I am willing that you shall retain all the + Western engagements. But what I shall want next week is still with + God. + Yours, MARK. +</pre> + <p> + He was in Hartford when this letter was written, arranging for residence + there and the removal of his belongings. He finally leased the fine Hooker + house on Ford Street, in that pleasant seclusion known as Nook Farm—the + literary part of Hartford, which included the residence of Charles Dudley + Warner and Harriet Beecher Stowe. He arranged for possession of the + premises October 1st. So the new home was settled upon; then learning that + Nasby was to be in Boston, he ran over to that city for a few days of + recreation after his season's labors. + </p> + <p> + Preparations for removal to Hartford were not delayed. The Buffalo + property was disposed of, the furnishings were packed and shipped away. + The house which as bride and groom they had entered so happily was left + empty and deserted, never to be entered by them again. In the year and a + half of their occupancy it had seen well-nigh all the human round, all + that goes to make up the happiness and the sorrow of life. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0088" id="link2H_4_0088"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LXXXIII. LECTURING DAYS + </h2> + <p> + Life in Hartford, in the autumn of 1871, began in the letter, rather than + in the spirit. The newcomers were received with a wide, neighborly + welcome, but the disorder of establishment and the almost immediate + departure of the head of the household on a protracted lecturing tour were + disquieting things; the atmosphere of the Clemens home during those early + Hartford days gave only a faint promise of its future loveliness. + </p> + <p> + As in a far later period, Mark Twain had resorted to lecturing to pay off + debt. He still owed a portion of his share in the Express; also he had + been obliged to obtain an advance from the lecture bureau. He dreaded, as + always, the tedium of travel, the clatter of hotel life, the monotony of + entertainment, while, more than most men, he loved the tender luxury of + home. It was only that he could not afford to lose the profit offered on + the platform. + </p> + <p> + His season opened at Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, October 16th, and his + schedule carried him hither and thither, to and fro, over distances that + lie between Boston and Chicago. There were opportunities to run into + Hartford now and then, when he was not too far away, and in November he + lectured there on Artemus Ward. + </p> + <p> + He changed his entertainment at least twice that season. He began with the + “Reminiscences,” the lecture which he said would treat of all + those whom he had met, “idiots, lunatics, and kings,” but he + did not like it, or it did not go well. He wrote Redpath of the Artemus + Ward address: + </p> + <p> + “It suits me, and I'll never deliver the nasty, nauseous + 'Reminiscences' any more.” + </p> + <p> + But the Ward lecture was good for little more than a month, for on + December 8th he wrote again: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Notify all hands that from this time I shall talk nothing but + selections from my forthcoming book, 'Roughing It'. Tried it twice + last night; suits me tiptop. +</pre> + <p> + And somewhat later: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Had a splendid time with a splendid audience in Indianapolis last + night; a perfectly jammed house, just as I have all the time out + here.... I don't care now to have any appointments canceled. I'll + even “fetch” those Dutch Pennsylvanians with this lecture. + + Have paid up $4,000 indebtedness. You are the last on my list. + Shall begin to pay you in a few days, and then I shall be a free man + again. +</pre> + <p> + Undoubtedly he reveled in the triumphs of a platform tour, though at no + time did he regard it as a pleasure excursion. During those early weeks + the proofs of his new book, chasing him from place to place, did not add + to his comfort. Still, with large, substantial rewards in hand and in + prospect, one could endure much. + </p> + <p> + In the neighborhood of Boston there were other compensations. He could + spend a good part of his days at the Lyceum headquarters, in School + Street, where there was always congenial fellowship—Nasby, Josh + Billings, and the rest of the peripatetic group that about the end of the + year collected there. Their lectures were never tried immediately in + Boston, but in the outlying towns; tried and perfected—or discarded. + When the provincial audiences were finally satisfied, then the final. test + in the Boston Music Hall was made, and if this proved successful the rest + of the season was safe. Redpath's lecturers put up at Young's Hotel, and + spent their days at the bureau, smoking and spinning yarns, or talking + shop. Early in the evening they scattered to the outlying towns, Lowell, + Lexington, Concord, New Bedford. There is no such a condition to-day: + lecturers are few, lecture bureaus obscure; there are no great reputations + made on the platform. + </p> + <p> + Neither is there any such distinct group of humorists as the one just + mentioned. Humor has become universal since then. Few writers of this age + would confess to taking their work so seriously as to be at all times + unsmiling in it; only about as many, in fact, as in that day would confess + to taking their work so lightly that they could regard life's sterner + phases and philosophies with a smile. + </p> + <p> + Josh Billings was one of the gentlest and loveliest of our pioneers of + laughter. The present generation is not overfamiliar even with his name, + but both the name and sayings of that quaint soul were on everybody's lips + at the time of which we are writing. His true name was Henry W. Shaw, and + he was a genuine, smiling philosopher, who might have built up a more + permanent and serious reputation had he not been induced to disfigure his + maxims with ridiculous spelling in order to popularize them and make them + bring a living price. It did not matter much with Nasby's work. An assumed + illiteracy belonged with the side of life which he presented; but it is + pathetic now to consider some of the really masterly sayings of Josh + Billings presented in that uncouth form which was regarded as a part of + humor a generation ago. Even the aphorisms that were essentially humorous + lose value in that degraded spelling. + </p> + <p> + “When a man starts down hill everything is greased for the occasion,” + could hardly be improved upon by distorted orthography, and here are a few + more gems which have survived that deadly blight. + </p> + <p> + “Some folks mistake vivacity for wit; whereas the difference between + vivacity and wit is the same as the difference between the lightning-bug + and the lightning.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't take the bull by the horns-take him by the tail; then you can + let go when you want to.” + </p> + <p> + “The difficulty is not that we know so much, but that we know so + much that isn't so.” + </p> + <p> + Josh Billings, Nasby, and Mark Twain were close friends. They had + themselves photographed in a group, and there was always some pleasantry + going on among them. Josh Billings once wrote on “Lekturing,” + and under the head of “Rule Seven,” which treated of unwisdom + of inviting a lecturer to a private house, he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Think of asking Mark Twain home with yu, for instance. Yure good + wife has put her house in apple-pie order for the ockashun; + everything is just in the right place. Yu don't smoke in yure + house, never. Yu don't put yure feet on the center-table, yu don't + skatter the nuzepapers all over the room, in utter confushion: order + and ekonemy governs yure premises. But if yu expeckt Mark Twain to + be happy, or even kumfortable yu hav got to buy a box of cigars + worth at least seventeen dollars and yu hav got to move all the + tender things out ov yure parlor. Yu hav got to skatter all the + latest papers around the room careless, you hav got to hav a pitcher + ov icewater handy, for Mark is a dry humorist. Yu hav got to ketch + and tie all yure yung ones, hed and foot, for Mark luvs babys only + in theory; yu hav got to send yure favorite kat over to the nabors + and hide yure poodle. These are things that hav to be done, or Mark + will pak hiz valise with hiz extry shirt collar and hiz lektur on + the Sandwich Islands, and travel around yure streets, smoking and + reading the sighns over the store doorways untill lektur time + begins. +</pre> + <p> + As we-are not likely to touch upon Mark Twain's lecturing, save only + lightly, hereafter, it may be as well to say something of his method at + this period. At all places visited by lecturers there was a committee, and + it was the place of the chairman to introduce the lecturer, a privilege + which he valued, because it gave him a momentary association with + distinction and fame. Clemens was a great disappointment to these + officials. He had learned long ago that he could introduce himself more + effectively than any one else. His usual formula was to present himself as + the chairman of the committee, introducing the lecturer of the evening; + then, with what was in effect a complete change of personality, to begin + his lecture. It was always startling and amusing, always a success; but + the papers finally printed this formula, which took the freshness out of + it, so that he had to invent others. Sometimes he got up with the frank + statement that he was introducing himself because he had never met any one + who could pay a proper tribute to his talents; but the newspapers printed + that too, and he often rose and began with no introduction at all. + </p> + <p> + Whatever his method of beginning, Mark Twain's procedure probably was the + purest exemplification of the platform entertainer's art which this + country has ever seen. It was the art that makes you forget the + artisanship, the art that made each hearer forget that he was not being + personally entertained by a new and marvelous friend, who had traveled a + long way for his particular benefit. One listener has written that he sat + “simmering with laughter” through what he supposed was the + continuation of the introduction, waiting for the traditional lecture to + begin, when presently the lecturer, with a bow, disappeared, and it was + over. The listener looked at his watch; he had been there more than an + hour. He thought it could be no more than ten minutes, at most. Many have + tried to set down something of the effect his art produced on them, but + one may not clearly convey the story of a vanished presence and a silent + voice. + </p> + <p> + There were other pleasant associations in Boston. Howells was there, and + Aldrich; also Bret Harte, who had finished his triumphal progress across + the continent to join the Atlantic group. Clemens appears not to have met + Aldrich before, though their acquaintance had begun a year earlier, when + Aldrich, as editor of Every Saturday, had commented on a poem entitled, + “The Three Aces,” which had appeared in the Buffalo Express. + Aldrich had assumed the poem to be the work of Mark Twain, and had + characterized it as “a feeble imitation of Bret Harte's 'Heathen + Chinee.'” Clemens, in a letter, had mildly protested as to the + charge of authorship, and Aldrich had promptly printed the letter with + apologetic explanation. A playful exchange of personal letters followed, + and the beginning of a lifelong friendship. + </p> + <p> + One of the letters has a special interest here. Clemens had followed his + protest with an apology for it, asking that no further notice be taken of + the matter. Aldrich replied that it was too late to prevent “doing + him justice,” as his explanation was already on the press, but that + if Clemens insisted he would withdraw it in the next issue. Clemens then + wrote that he did not want it withdrawn, and explained that he hated to be + accused of plagiarizing Bret Harte, to whom he was deeply indebted for + literary schooling in the California days. Continuing he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Do you know the prettiest fancy and the neatest that ever shot + through Harte's brain? It was this. When they were trying to + decide upon a vignette cover for the Overland a grizzly bear (of the + arms of the State of California) was chosen. Nahl Bros. carved him + and the page was printed with him in it. + + As a bear he was a success. He was a good bear, but then, it was + objected, he was an objectless bear—a bear that meant nothing, + signified nothing, simply stood there, snarling over his shoulder at + nothing, and was painfully and manifestly a boorish and ill-natured + intruder upon the fair page. All hands said that none were + satisfied; they hated badly to give him up, and yet they hated as + much to have him there when there was no point to him. But + presently Harte took a pencil and drew two simple lines under his + feet, and behold he was a magnificent success!—the ancient symbol + of California savagery, snarling at the approaching type of high and + progressive civilization, the first Overland locomotive! I just + think that was nothing less than an inspiration.—[The “bear” was + that which has always appeared on the Overland cover; the “two + lines” formed a railway track under his feet. Clemens's original + letter contained crude sketches illustrating these things.] +</pre> + <p> + Among the Boston group was another Californian, Ralph Keeler, an + eccentric, gifted, and altogether charming fellow, whom Clemens had known + on the Pacific slope. Keeler had been adopted by the Boston writers, and + was grateful and happy accordingly. He was poor of purse, but + inexhaustibly rich in the happier gifts of fortune. He was unfailingly + buoyant, light-hearted, and hopeful. On an infinitesimal capital he had + made a tour of many lands, and had written of it for the Atlantic. In that + charmed circle he was as overflowingly happy as if he had been admitted to + the company of the gods. Keeler was affectionately regarded by all who + knew him, and he offered a sort of worship in return. He often accompanied + Mark Twain on his lecture engagements to the various outlying towns, and + Clemens brought him back to his hotel for breakfast, where they had good, + enjoyable talks together. Once Keeler came eagerly to the hotel and made + his way up to Clemens's room. + </p> + <p> + “Come with me,” he said. “Quick!” + </p> + <p> + “What is it? What's happened?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't wait to talk. Come with me.” + </p> + <p> + They tramped briskly through the streets till they reached the public + library, entered, Keeler leading the way, not stopping till he faced a row + of shelves filled with books. He pointed at one of them, his face radiant + with joy. + </p> + <p> + “Look,” he said. “Do you see it?” + </p> + <p> + Clemens looked carefully now and identified one of the books as a + still-born novel which Keeler had published. + </p> + <p> + “This is a library,” said Keeler, eagerly, “and they've + got it!” + </p> + <p> + His whole being was aglow with the wonder of it. He had been + investigating; the library records showed that in the two years the book + had been there it had been taken out and read three times! It never + occurred to Clemens even to smile. Knowing Mark Twain, one would guess + that his eyes were likely to be filled with tears. + </p> + <p> + In his book about Mark Twain, Howells tells of a luncheon which Keeler + gave to his more famous associates—Aldrich, Fields, Harte, Clemens, + and Howells himself—a merry informal occasion. Says Howells: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Nothing remains to me of the happy time but a sense of idle and + aimless and joyful talk—play, beginning and ending nowhere, of + eager laughter, of countless good stories from Fields, of a heat- + lightning shimmer of wit from Aldrich, of an occasional + concentration of our joint mockeries upon our host, who took it + gladly; and amid the discourse, so little improving, but so full of + good-fellowship, Bret Harte's leering dramatization of Clemens's + mental attitude toward a symposium of Boston illuminates. “Why, + fellows,” he spluttered, “this is the dream of Mark's life,” and I + remember the glance from under Clemens's feathery eyebrows which + betrayed his enjoyment of the fun. +</pre> + <p> + Very likely Keeler gave that luncheon in celebration of his book's + triumph; it would be like him. + </p> + <p> + Keeler's end was a mystery. The New York Tribune commissioned him to go to + Cuba to report the facts of some Spanish outrages. He sailed from New York + in the steamer, and was last seen alive the night before the vessel + reached Havana. He had made no secret of his mission, but had discussed it + in his frank, innocent way. There were some Spanish military men on the + ship. + </p> + <p> + Clemens, commenting on the matter, once said: + </p> + <p> + “It may be that he was not flung into the sea, still the belief was + general that that was what had happened.” + </p> + <p> + In his book Howells refers to the doubt with which Mark Twain was then + received by the polite culture of Boston; which, on the other hand, + accepted Bret Harte as one of its own, forgiving even social shortcomings. + </p> + <p> + The reason is not difficult to understand. Harte had made his appeal with + legitimate fiction of the kind which, however fresh in flavor and + environment, was of a sort to be measured and classified. Harte spoke a + language they could understand; his humor, his pathos, his point of view + were all recognizable. It was an art already standardized by a master. It + is no reflection on the genius of Bret Harte to liken his splendid + achievements to those of Charles Dickens. Much of Harte's work is in no + way inferior to that of his great English prototype. Dickens never wrote a + better short story than “The Outcasts of Poker Flats.” He + never wrote as good a short story as “The Luck of Roaring Camp.” + Boston critics promptly realized these things and gave Harte his correct + rating. That they failed to do this with Mark Twain, lay chiefly in the + fact that he spoke to them in new and startling tongues. His gospels were + likely to be heresies; his literary eccentricities were all unclassified. + Of the ultrafastidious set Howells tells us that Charles Eliot Norton and + Prof. Francis J. Child were about the only ones who accorded him + unqualified approval. The others smiled and enjoyed him, but with that + condescension which the courtier is likely to accord to motley and the cap + and bells. Only the great, simple-hearted, unbiased multitude, the public, + which had no standards but the direct appeal from one human heart to + another, could recognize immediately his mightier heritage, could exalt + and place him on the throne. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0089" id="link2H_4_0089"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LXXXIV. “ROUGHING IT”. + </h2> + <h3> + Telegram to Redpath: + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + How in the name of God does a man find his way from here to Amherst, + and when must he start? Give me full particulars, and send a man + with me. If I had another engagement I would rot before I would + fill it. S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> + <p> + This was at the end of February, and he believed that he was standing on + the platform for the last time. He loathed the drudgery of the work, and + he considered there was no further need. He was no longer in debt, and his + income he accounted ample. His new book, 'Roughing It',—[It was + Bliss who had given the new book the title of Roughing It. Innocents at + Home had been its provision title, certainly a misleading one, though it + has been retained in England for the second volume; for what reason it + would be difficult to explain.]—had had a large advance sale, and + its earnings promised to rival those of the 'Innocents'. He resolved in + the future to confine himself to the trade and profits of authorship. + </p> + <p> + The new book had advantages in its favor. Issued early in the year, it was + offered at the best canvassing season; particularly so, as the author's + lectures had prepared the public for its reception. Furthermore, it dealt + with the most picturesque phases of American life, scenes and episodes + vastly interesting at that time, and peculiarly adapted to Mark Twain's + literary expression. In a different way 'Roughing It' is quite as + remarkable as 'The Innocents Abroad.' If it has less charm, it has greater + interest, and it is by no means without charm. There is something + delicious, for instance, in this bit of pure enjoyment of the first day's + overland travel: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It was now just dawn, and as we stretched our cramped legs full + length on the mail-sacks, and gazed out through the windows across + the wide wastes of greensward clad in cool, powdery mist to where + there was an expectant look in the Eastern horizon, our perfect + enjoyment took the form of a tranquil and contented ecstasy. The + stage whirled along at a spanking gait, the breeze flapping the + curtains and suspended coats in a most exhilarating way; the cradle + swayed and swung luxuriously, the pattering of the horses' hoofs, + the cracking of the driver's whip, and his “Hi-yi! g'lang!” were + music; the spinning ground and the waltzing trees appeared to give + us a mute hurrah as we went by, and then slack up and look after us + with interest and envy, or something; and as we lay and smoked the + pipe of peace, and compared all this luxury with the years of + tiresome city life that had gone before it, we felt that there was + only one complete and satisfying happiness in the world, and we had + found it. +</pre> + <p> + Also, there is that lofty presentation of South Pass, and a picture of the + alkali desert, so parching, so withering in its choking realism, that it + makes the throat ache and the tongue dry to read it. Just a bit of the + desert in passing: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The sun beats down with a dead, blistering, relentless malignity; + the perspiration is welling from every pore in man and beast, but + scarcely a sign of it finds its way to the surface—it is absorbed + before it gets there; there is not the faintest breath of air + stirring; there is not a merciful shred of cloud in all the + brilliant firmament; there is not a living creature visible in any + direction whither one searches the blank level that stretches its + monotonous miles on every hand; there is not a sound, not a sigh, + not a whisper, not a buzz, or a whir of wings, or distant pipe of + bird; not even a sob from the lost souls that doubtless people that + dead air. +</pre> + <p> + As for the humor of the book, it has been chiefly famous for that. “Buck + Fanshaw's Funeral” has become a classic, and the purchase of the + “Mexican Plug.” But it is to no purpose to review the book + here in detail. We have already reviewed the life and environment out of + which it grew. + </p> + <p> + Without doubt the story would have contained more of the poetic and + contemplative, in which he was always at his best, if the subject itself, + as in the Innocents, had lent itself oftener to this form of writing. It + was the lack of that halo perhaps which caused the new book never quite to + rank with its great forerunner in public favor. There could hardly be any + other reason. It presented a fresher theme; it abounded in humor; + technically, it was better written; seemingly it had all the elements of + popularity and of permanence. It did, in fact, possess these qualities, + but its sales, except during the earlier months of its canvass, never + quite equaled those of The Innocents Abroad. + </p> + <p> + 'Roughing It' was accepted by the public for just what it was and is, a + great picture of the Overland Pioneer days—a marvelous picture of + frontier aspects at a time when the frontier itself, even with its + hardships and its tragedies, was little more than a vast primal joke; when + all frontiersmen were obliged to be laughing philosophers in order to + survive the stress of its warfares. + </p> + <p> + A word here about this Western humor: It is a distinct product. It grew + out of a distinct condition—the battle with the frontier. The fight + was so desperate, to take it seriously was to surrender. Women laughed + that they might not weep; men, when they could no longer swear. “Western + humor” was the result. It is the freshest, wildest humor in the + world, but there is tragedy behind it. + </p> + <p> + 'Roughing It' presented the picture of those early conditions with the + startling vividness and truth of a great novel, which, in effect, it was. + It was not accurate history, even of the author's own adventures. It was + true in its aspects, rather than in its details. The greater artist + disregards the truth of detail to render more strikingly a phase or a + condition, to produce an atmosphere, to reconstruct a vanished time. This + was what Mark Twain did in 'Roughing It'. He told the story of overland + travel and the frontier, for his own and future generations, in what is + essentially a picaresque novel, a work of unperishing fiction, founded on + fact. + </p> + <p> + The sales of 'Roughing It' during the first three months aggregated nearly + forty thousand copies, and the author was lavishly elate accordingly. To + Orion (who had already closed his career with Bliss, by exercise of those + hereditary eccentricities through which he so often came to grief) he gave + $1,000 out of the first royalty check, in acknowledgment of the memorandum + book and other data which Orion had supplied. Clemens believed the new + book would sell one hundred thousand copies within the year; but the sale + diminished presently, and at the end of the first year it was considerably + behind the Innocents for the same period. As already stated, it required + ten years for Roughing It to reach the one-hundred-thousand mark, which + the Innocents reached in three. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0090" id="link2H_4_0090"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LXXXV. A BIRTH, A DEATH, AND A VOYAGE + </h2> + <p> + The year 1872 was an eventful one in Mark Twain's life. At Elmira, on + March 19th, his second child, a little girl, whom they named Susan Olivia, + was born. On June 2d, in the new home in Hartford, to which they had + recently moved, his first child, a little boy, Langdon, died. He had never + been strong, his wavering life had often been uncertain, always more of + the spirit than the body, and in Elmira he contracted a heavy cold, or + perhaps it was diphtheria from the beginning. In later years, whenever + Clemens spoke of the little fellow, he never failed to accuse himself of + having been the cause of the child's death. It was Mrs. Clemens's custom + to drive out each morning with Langdon, and once when she was unable to go + Clemens himself went instead. + </p> + <p> + “I should not have been permitted to do it,” he said, + remembering. “I was not qualified for any such responsibility as + that. Some one should have gone who had at least the rudiments of a mind. + Necessarily I would lose myself dreaming. After a while the coachman + looked around and noticed that the carriage-robes had dropped away from + the little fellow, and that he was exposed to the chilly air. He called my + attention to it, but it was too late. Tonsilitis or something of the sort + set in, and he did not get any better, so we took him to Hartford. There + it was pronounced diphtheria, and of course he died.” + </p> + <p> + So, with or without reason, he added the blame of another tragedy to the + heavy burden of remorse which he would go on piling up while he lived. + </p> + <p> + The blow was a terrible one to Mrs. Clemens; even the comfort of the + little new baby on her arm could not ease the ache in her breast. It + seemed to her that death was pursuing her. In one of her letters she says: + </p> + <p> + “I feel so often as if my path is to be lined with graves,” + and she expresses the wish that she may drop out of life herself before + her sister and her husband—a wish which the years would grant. + </p> + <p> + They did not return to Elmira, for it was thought that the air of the + shore would be better for the little girl; so they spent the summer at + Saybrook, Connecticut, at Fenwick Hall, leaving Orion and his wife in + charge of the house at Hartford. + </p> + <p> + Beyond a few sketches, Clemens did very little literary work that summer, + but he planned a trip to Europe, and he invented what is still known and + sold as the “Mark Twain Scrap-Book.” + </p> + <p> + He wrote to Orion of his proposed trip to England, and dilated upon his + scrap-book with considerable enthusiasm. The idea had grown out of the + inconvenience of finding a paste-jar, and the general mussiness of + scrap-book keeping. His new plan was a self-pasting scrap-book with the + gum laid on in narrow strips, requiring only to be dampened with a sponge + or other moist substance to be ready for the clipping. He states that he + intends to put the invention into the hands of Slote, Woodman & Co., + of whom Dan Slote, his old Quaker City room-mate, was the senior partner, + and have it manufactured for the trade. + </p> + <p> + About this time began Mark Twain's long and active interest in copyright. + Previously he had not much considered the subject; he had taken it for + granted there was no step that he could take, while international piracy + was a recognized institution. On both sides of the water books were + appropriated, often without profit, sometimes even without credit, to the + author. To tell the truth, Clemens had at first regarded it rather in the + nature of a compliment that his books should be thought worth pirating in + England, but as time passed he realized that he was paying heavily for + this recognition. Furthermore, he decided that he was forfeiting a right; + rather that he was being deprived of it: something which it was in his + nature to resent. + </p> + <p> + When 'Roughing It' had been ready for issue he agreed with Bliss that they + should try the experiment of copyrighting it in England, and see how far + the law would protect them against the voracious little publisher, who + thus far had not only snapped up everything bearing Mark Twain's + signature, but had included in a volume of Mark Twain sketches certain + examples of very weak humor with which Mark Twain had been previously + unfamiliar. + </p> + <p> + Whatever the English pirate's opinion of the copyright protection of + 'Roughing It' may have been, he did not attempt to violate it. This was + gratifying. Clemens came to regard England as a friendly power. He decided + to visit it and spy out the land. He would make the acquaintance of its + people and institutions and write a book, which would do these things + justice. + </p> + <p> + He gave out no word of his real purpose. He merely said that he was going + over to see his English publishers, and perhaps to arrange for a few + lectures. He provided himself with some stylographic note-books, by which + he could produce two copies of his daily memoranda—one for himself + and one to mail to Mrs. Clemens—and sailed on the Scotia August 21, + 1872. + </p> + <p> + Arriving in Liverpool he took train for London, and presently the + wonderful charm of that old, finished country broke upon him. His “first + hour in England was an hour of delight,” he records; “of + rapture and ecstasy. These are the best words I can find, but they are not + adequate; they are not strong enough to convey the feeling which this + first vision of rural England brought me.” Then he noticed that the + gentleman opposite in his compartment paid no attention to the scenery, + but was absorbed in a green-covered volume. He was so absorbed in it that, + by and by, Clemens's curiosity was aroused. He shifted his position a + little and his eye caught the title. It was the first volume of the + English edition of The Innocents Abroad. This was gratifying for a moment; + then he remembered that the man had never laughed, never even smiled + during the hour of his steady reading. Clemens recalled what he had heard + of the English lack of humor. He wondered if this was a fair example of + it, and if the man could be really taking seriously every word he was + reading. Clemens could not look at the scenery any more for watching his + fellow-passenger, waiting with a fascinated interest for the paragraph + that would break up that iron-clad solemnity. It did not come. During all + the rest of the trip to London the atmosphere of the compartment remained + heavy with gloom. + </p> + <p> + He drove to the Langham Hotel, always popular with Americans, established + himself, and went to look up his publishers. He found the Routledges about + to sit down to luncheon in a private room, up-stairs, in their publishing + house. He joined them, and not a soul stirred from that table again until + evening. The Routledges had never heard Mark Twain talk before, never + heard any one talk who in the least resembled him. Various refreshments + were served during the afternoon, came and went, while this marvelous + creature talked on and they listened, reveling, and wondering if America + had any more of that sort at home. By and by dinner was served; then after + a long time, when there was no further excuse for keeping him there, they + took him to the Savage Club, where there were yet other refreshments and a + gathering of the clans to welcome this new arrival as a being from some + remote and unfamiliar star. + </p> + <p> + Tom Hood, the younger, was there, and Harry Lee, and Stanley the explorer, + who had but just returned from finding Livingstone, and Henry Irving, and + many another whose name remains, though the owners of those names are all + dead now, and their laughter and their good-fellowship are only a part of + that intangible fabric which we call the past.'—[Clemens had first + known Stanley as a newspaper man. “I first met him when he reported + a lecture of mine in St. Louis,” he said once in a conversation + where the name of Stanley was mentioned.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0091" id="link2H_4_0091"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LXXXVI. ENGLAND + </h2> + <p> + From that night Mark Twain's stay in England could not properly be called + a gloomy one. + </p> + <p> + Routledge, Hood, Lee, and, in fact, all literary London, set themselves + the task of giving him a good time. Whatever place of interest they could + think of he was taken there; whatever there was to see he saw it. Dinners, + receptions, and assemblies were not complete without him. The White + Friars' Club and others gave banquets in his honor. He was the sensation + of the day. When he rose to speak on these occasions he was greeted with + wild cheers. Whatever he said they eagerly applauded—too eagerly + sometimes, in the fear that they might be regarded as insensible to + American humor. Other speakers delighted in chaffing him in order to + provoke his retorts. When a speaker humorously referred to his American + habit of carrying a cotton umbrella, his reply that he followed this + custom because a cotton umbrella was the only kind of an umbrella that an + Englishman wouldn't steal, was all over England next day, and regarded as + one of the finest examples of wit since the days of Swift. + </p> + <p> + The suddenness and completeness of his acceptance by the great ones of + London rather overwhelmed and frightened him made him timid. Joaquin + Miller writes: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He was shy as a girl, although time was already coyly flirting white + flowers at his temples, and could hardly be coaxed to meet the + learned and great who wanted to take him by the hand. +</pre> + <p> + Many came to call on him at his hotel, among them Charles Reade and Canon + Kingsley. Kingsley came twice without finding him; then wrote, asking for + an appointment. Reade invited his assistance on a novel. Indeed, it was in + England that Mark Twain was first made to feel that he had come into his + rightful heritage. Whatever may have been the doubts concerning him in + America, there was no question in England. Howells says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In England rank, fashion, and culture rejoiced in him. Lord mayors, + lord chief justices, and magnates of many kinds were his hosts; he + was desired in country houses, and his bold genius captivated the + favor of periodicals which spurned the rest of our nation. +</pre> + <p> + After that first visit of Mark Twain's, when Americans in England, + referring to their great statesmen, authors, and the like, naturally + mentioned the names of Seward, Webster, Lowell, or Holmes, the English + comment was likely to be: “Never mind those. We can turn out + academic Sewards by the dozen, and cultured humorists like Lowell and + Holmes by the score. Tell us of Lincoln, Artemus Ward, and Mark Twain. We + cannot match these; they interest us.” And it was true. History + could not match them, for they were unique. + </p> + <p> + Clemens would have been more than human if in time he had not realized the + fuller meaning of this triumph, and exulted in it a little to the folks at + home. There never lived a more modest, less pretentious, less aggressive + man than Mark Twain, but there never lived a man who took a more childlike + delight in genuine appreciation; and, being childlike, it was only human + that he should wish those nearest to him to share his happiness. After one + memorable affair he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have been received in a sort of tremendous way to-night by the + brains of London, assembled at the annual dinner of the sheriffs of + London; mine being (between you and me) a name which was received + with a thundering outburst of spontaneous applause when the long + list of guests was called. +</pre> + <p> + I might have perished on the spot but for the friendly support and + assistance of my excellent friend, Sir John Bennett. + </p> + <p> + This letter does not tell all of the incident or the real reason why he + might have perished on the spot. During the long roll-call of guests he + had lost interest a little, and was conversing in whispers with his + “excellent friend,” Sir John Bennett, stopping to applaud now + and then when the applause of the others indicated that some distinguished + name had been pronounced. All at once the applause broke out with great + vehemence. This must be some very distinguished person indeed. He joined + in it with great enthusiasm. When it was over he whispered to Sir John: + </p> + <p> + “Whose name was that we were just applauding?” + </p> + <p> + “Mark Twain's.” + </p> + <p> + Whereupon the support was needed. + </p> + <p> + Poor little pirate Hotten did not have a happy time during this visit. He + had reveled in the prospect at first, for he anticipated a large increase + to be derived from his purloined property; but suddenly, one morning, he + was aghast to find in the Spectator a signed letter from Mark Twain, in + which he was repudiated, referred to as “John Camden Hottentot,” + an unsavory person generally. Hotten also sent a letter to the Spectator, + in which he attempted to justify himself, but it was a feeble performance. + Clemens prepared two other communications, each worse than the other and + both more destructive than the first one. But these were only to relieve + his mind. He did not print them. In one of them he pursued the fancy of + John Camden Hottentot, whom he offers as a specimen to the Zoological + Gardens. + </p> + <p> + It is not a bird. It is not a man. It is not a fish. It does not seem to + be in all respects a reptile. It has the body and features of a man, but + scarcely any of the instincts that belong to such a structure.... I am + sure that this singular little creature is the missing link between the + man and the hyena. + </p> + <p> + Hotten had preyed upon explorer Stanley and libeled him in a so-called. + biography to a degree that had really aroused some feeling against Stanley + in England. Only for the moment—the Queen invited Stanley to + luncheon, and newspaper criticism ceased. Hotten was in general disrepute, + therefore, so it was not worth while throwing a second brick at him. + </p> + <p> + In fact, now that Clemens had expended his venom, on paper, Hotten seemed + to him rather an amusing figure than otherwise. An incident grew out of it + all, however, that was not amusing. E. P. Hingston, whom the reader may + remember as having been with Artemus Ward in Virginia City, and one of + that happy group that wined and dined the year away, had been engaged by + Hotten to write the introductory to his edition of The Innocents Abroad. + It was a well-written, highly complimentary appreciation. Hingston did not + dream that he was committing an offense, nor did Clemens himself regard it + as such in the beginning. + </p> + <p> + But Mark Twain's views had undergone a radical change, and with + characteristic dismissal of previous conditions he had forgotten that he + had ever had any other views than those he now held. Hingston was in + London, and one evening, at a gathering, approached Clemens with + outstretched hand. But Clemens failed to see Hingston's hand or to + recognize him. In after-years his conscience hurt him terribly for this. + He remembered it only with remorse and shame. Once, in his old age, he + spoke of it with deep sorrow. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0092" id="link2H_4_0092"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LXXXVII. THE BOOK THAT WAS NEVER WRITTEN + </h2> + <p> + The book on England, which he had prepared for so carefully, was never + written. Hundreds of the stylographic pages were filled, and the + duplicates sent home for the entertainment of Olivia Clemens, but the + notes were not completed, and the actual writing was never begun. There + was too much sociability in London for one thing, and then he found that + he could not write entertainingly of England without introducing too many + personalities, and running the risk of offending those who had taken him + into their hearts and homes. In a word, he would have to write too + seriously or not at all. + </p> + <p> + He began his memoranda industriously enough, and the volume might have + been as charming and as valuable as any he has left behind. The reader + will hardly fail to find a few of the entries interesting. They are + offered here as examples of his daily observation during those early weeks + of his stay, and to show somewhat of his purpose: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + AN EXPATRIATE + + There was once an American thief who fled his country and took + refuge in England. He dressed himself after the fashion of the + Londoners, and taught his tongue the peculiarities of the London + pronunciation and did his best in all ways to pass himself for a + native. But he did two fatal things: he stopped at the Langham + Hotel, and the first trip he took was to visit Stratford-on-Avon and + the grave of Shakespeare. These things betrayed his nationality. + + STANLEY AND THE QUEEN + + See the power a monarch wields! When I arrived here, two weeks ago, + the papers and geographers were in a fair way to eat poor Stanley up + without salt or sauce. The Queen says, “Come four hundred miles up + into Scotland and sit at my luncheon-table fifteen minutes”; which, + being translated, means, “Gentlemen, I believe in this man and take + him under my protection”; and not another yelp is heard. + + AT THE BRITISH MUSEUM + + What a place it is! + + Mention some very rare curiosity of a peculiar nature—a something + which you have read about somewhere but never seen—they show you a + dozen! They show you all the possible varieties of that thing! + They show you curiously wrought jeweled necklaces of beaten gold, + worn by the ancient Egyptians, Assyrians, Etruscans, Greeks, + Britons—every people of the forgotten ages, indeed. They show you + the ornaments of all the tribes and peoples that live or ever did + live. Then they show you a cast taken from Cromwell's face in + death; then the venerable vase that once contained the ashes of + Xerxes. + + I am wonderfully thankful for the British Museum. Nobody comes + bothering around me—nobody elbows me—all the room and all the + light I want, under this huge dome—no disturbing noises—and people + standing ready to bring me a copy of pretty much any book that ever + was printed under the sun—and if I choose to go wandering about the + long corridors and galleries of the great building the secrets of + all the earth and all the ages axe laid open to me. I am not + capable of expressing my gratitude for the British Museum—it seems + as if I do not know any but little words and weak ones. + + WESTMINSTER ABBEY BY NIGHT + + It was past eleven o'clock and I was just going to bed. But this + friend of mine was as reliable as he was eccentric, and so there was + not a doubt in my mind that his “expedition” had merit in it. I put + on my coat and boots again, and we drove away. + + “Where is it? Where are we going?” + + “Don't worry. You'll see.” + + He was not inclined to talk. So I thought this must be a weighty + matter. My curiosity grew with the minutes, but I kept it manfully + under the surface. I watched the lamps, the signs, the numbers as + we thundered down the long street. I am always lost in London, day + or night. It was very chilly, almost bleak. People leaned against + the gusty blasts as if it were the dead of winter. The crowds grew + thinner and thinner, and the noises waxed faint and seemed far away. + The sky was overcast and threatening. We drove on, and still on, + till I wondered if we were ever going to stop. At last we passed by + a spacious bridge and a vast building, and presently entered a + gateway, passed through a sort of tunnel, and stopped in a court + surrounded by the black outlines of a great edifice. Then we + alighted, walked a dozen steps or so, and waited. In a little while + footsteps were heard, a man emerged from the darkness, and we + dropped into his wake without saying anything. He led us under an + archway of masonry, and from that into a roomy tunnel, through a + tall iron gate, which he locked behind us. We followed him down + this tunnel, guided more by his footsteps on the stone flagging than + by anything we could very distinctly see. At the end of it we came + to another iron gate, and our conductor stopped there and lit a + bull's-eye lantern. Then he unlocked the gate; and I wished he had + oiled it first, it grated so dismally. The gate swung open and we + stood on the threshold of what seemed a limitless domed and pillared + cavern, carved out of the solid darkness. The conductor and my + friend took off their hats reverently, and I did likewise. For the + moment that we stood thus there was not a sound, and the stillness + seemed to add to the solemnity of the gloom. I looked my inquiry! + + “It is the tomb of the great dead of England-Westminster Abbey.”... + + We were among the tombs; on every hand dull shapes of men, sitting, + standing, or stooping, inspected us curiously out of the darkness + —reached out their hands toward us—some appealing, some beckoning, + some warning us away. Effigies they were—statues over the graves; + but they looked human and natural in the murky shadows. Now a + little half-grown black and white cat squeezed herself through the + bars of the iron gate and came purring lovingly about us, unawed by + the time or the place, unimpressed by the marble pomp that + sepulchers a line of mighty dead that ends with a great author of + yesterday and began with a sceptered monarch away back in the dawn + of history, more than twelve hundred years ago.... + + Mr. Wright flashed his lantern first upon this object and then upon + that, and kept up a running commentary that showed there was nothing + about the venerable Abbey that was trivial in his eyes or void of + interest. He is a man in authority, being superintendent, and his + daily business keeps him familiar with every nook and corner of the + great pile. Casting a luminous ray now here, now yonder, he would + say: + + “Observe the height of the Abbey—one hundred and three feet to the + base of the roof; I measured it myself the other day. Notice the + base of this column—old, very old—hundreds and hundreds of years + —and how well they knew how to build in those old days! Notice it + —every stone is laid horizontally; that is to say, just as nature + laid it originally in the quarry not set up edgewise; in our day + some people set them on edge, and then wonder why they split and + flake. Architects cannot teach nature anything. Let me remove this + matting—it is put here to preserve the pavement; now there is a bit + of pavement that is seven hundred years old; you can see by these + scattering clusters of colored mosaics how beautiful it was before + time and sacrilegious idlers marred it. Now there, in the border, + was an inscription, once see, follow the circle-you can trace it by + the ornaments that have been pulled out—here is an A and there is + an O, and yonder another A—all beautiful Old English capitals; + there is no telling what the inscription was—no record left now. + Now move along in this direction, if you please. Yonder is where + old King Sebert the Saxon lies his monument is the oldest one in the + Abbey; Sebert died in 616,—[Clemens probably misunderstood the + name. It was Ethelbert who died in 616. The name Sebert does not + appear in any Saxon annals accessible to the author.]—and that's + as much, as twelve hundred and fifty years ago think of it! Twelve + hundred and fifty years! Now yonder is the last one—Charles + Dickens—there on the floor, with the brass letters on the slab—and + to this day the people come and put flowers on it.... There is + Garrick's monument; and Addison's, and Thackeray's bust—and + Macaulay lies there. And close to Dickens and Garrick lie Sheridan + and Dr. Johnson—and here is old Parr.... + + “That stone there covers Campbell the poet. Here are names you know + pretty well—Milton, and Gray who wrote the Elegy, and Butler who + wrote Hudibras; and Edmund Spenser, and Ben Jonson—there are three + tablets to him scattered about the Abbey, and all got 'O, Rare Ben + Jonson' cut on them. You were standing on one of them just now he + is buried standing up. There used to be a tradition here that + explains it. The story goes that he did not dare ask to be buried + in the Abbey, so he asked King James if he would make him a present + of eighteen inches of English ground, and the King said 'yes,' and + asked him where he would have it, and he said in Westminster Abbey. + Well, the King wouldn't go back on his word, and so there he is, + sure enough-stood up on end.” + </pre> + <p> + The reader may regret that there are not more of these entries, and that + the book itself was never written. Just when he gave up the project is not + recorded. He was urged to lecture in London, but declined. To Mrs. + Clemens, in September, he wrote: + </p> + <p> + Everybody says lecture, lecture, lecture, but I have not the least idea of + doing it; certainly not at present. Mr. Dolby, who took Dickens to + America, is coming to talk business tomorrow, though I have sent him word + once before that I can't be hired to talk here; because I have no time to + spare. There is too much sociability; I do not get along fast enough with + work. + </p> + <p> + In October he declared that he was very homesick, and proposed that Mrs. + Clemens and Susie join him at once in London, unless she would prefer to + have him come home for the winter and all of them return to London in the + spring. So it is likely that the book was not then abandoned. He felt that + his visit was by no means ended; that it was, in fact, only just begun, + but he wanted the ones he loved most to share it with him. To his mother + and sister, in November, he wrote: + </p> + <p> + I came here to take notes for a book, but I haven't done much but attend + dinners and make speeches. I have had a jolly good time, and I do hate to + go away from these English folks; they make a stranger feel entirely at + home, and they laugh so easily that it is a comfort to make after-dinner + speeches here. I have made hundreds of friends; and last night, in the + crush at the opening of the new Guild Hall Library and Museum, I was + surprised to meet a familiar face every other step. + </p> + <p> + All his impressions of England had been happy ones. He could deliver a + gentle satire now and then at certain British institutions—certain + London localities and features—as in his speech at the Savage Club,—[September + 28, 1872. This is probably the most characteristic speech made by Mark + Twain during his first London visit; the reader will find it in full in + Appendix L, at the end of last volume.]—but taking the snug island + as a whole, its people, its institutions, its fair, rural aspects, he had + found in it only delight. To Mrs. Crane he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + If you and Theodore will come over in the spring with Livy and me, + and spend the summer, you shall see a country that is so beautiful + that you will be obliged to believe in fairy-land. There is nothing + like it elsewhere on the globe. You should have a season ticket and + travel up and down every day between London and Oxford and worship + nature. + + And Theodore can browse with me among dusty old dens that look now + as they looked five hundred years ago; and puzzle over books in the + British Museum that were made before Christ was born; and in the + customs of their public dinners, and the ceremonies of every + official act, and the dresses of a thousand dignitaries, trace the + speech and manners of all the centuries that have dragged their + lagging decades over England since the Heptarchy fell asunder. I + would a good deal rather live here if I could get the rest of you + over. +</pre> + <p> + He sailed November 12th, on the Batavia, loaded with Christmas presents + for everybody; jewelry, furs, laces; also a practical steam-engine for his + namesake, Sam Moffett. Half-way across the Atlantic the Batavia ran into a + hurricane and was badly damaged by heavy seas, and driven far out of her + course. It was a lucky event on the whole, for she fell in with a + water-logged lumber bark, a complete wreck, with nine surviving sailors + clinging to her rigging. In the midst of the wild gale a lifeboat was + launched and the perishing men were rescued. Clemens prepared a graphic + report of the matter for the Royal Humane Society, asking that medals be + conferred upon the brave rescuers, a document that was signed by his + fellow-passengers and obtained for the men complete recognition and wide + celebrity. Closing, the writer said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + As might have been anticipated, if I have been of any service toward + rescuing these nine shipwrecked human beings by standing around the + deck in a furious storm, without an umbrella, keeping an eye on + things and seeing that they were done right, and yelling whenever a + cheer seemed to be the important thing, I am glad and I am + satisfied. I ask no reward. I would do it again under the same + circumstances. But what I do plead for, earnestly and sincerely, is + that the Royal Humane Society will remember our captain and our + life-boat crew, and in so remembering them increase the high honor + and esteem in which the society is held all over the civilized + world. +</pre> + <p> + The Batavia reached New York November 26, 1872. Mark Twain had been absent + three months, during which he had been brought to at least a partial + realization of what his work meant to him and to mankind. + </p> + <p> + An election had taken place during his absence—an election which + gratified him deeply, for it had resulted in the second presidency of + General Grant and in the defeat of Horace Greeley, whom he admired + perhaps, but not as presidential material. To Thomas Nast, who had aided + very effectually in Mr. Greeley's overwhelming defeat, Clemens wrote: + </p> + <p> + Nast, you more than any other man have won a prodigious victory for Grant—I + mean, rather, for civilization and progress. Those pictures were simply + marvelous, and if any man in the land has a right to hold his head up and + be honestly proud of his share in this year's vast events that man is + unquestionably yourself. We all do sincerely honor you, and are proud of + you. + </p> + <p> + Horace Greeley's peculiar abilities and eccentricities won celebrity for + him, rather than voters. Mark Twain once said of him: + </p> + <p> + “He was a great man, an honest man, and served his, country well and + was an honor to it. Also, he was a good-natured man, but abrupt with + strangers if they annoyed him when he was busy. He was profane, but that + is nothing; the best of us is that. I did not know him well, but only just + casually, and by accident. I never met him but once. I called on him in + the Tribune office, but I was not intending to. I was looking for Whitelaw + Reid, and got into the wrong den. He was alone at his desk, writing, and + we conversed—not long, but just a little. I asked him if he was + well, and he said, 'What the hell do you want?' Well, I couldn't remember + what I wanted, so I said I would call again. But I didn't.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens did not always tell the incident just in this way. Sometimes it + was John Hay he was looking for instead of Reid, and the conversation with + Greeley varied; but perhaps there was a germ of history under it + somewhere, and at any rate it could have happened well enough, and not + have been out of character with either of the men. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0093" id="link2H_4_0093"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LXXXVIII. “THE GILDED AGE” + </h2> + <p> + Mark Twain did not go on the lecture circuit that winter. Redpath had + besought him as usual, and even in midsummer had written: + </p> + <p> + “Will you? Won't you? We have seven thousand to eight thousand + dollars in engagements recorded for you,” and he named a list of + towns ranging geographically from Boston to St. Paul. + </p> + <p> + But Clemens had no intention then of ever lecturing any more, and again in + November, from London, he announced (to Redpath): + </p> + <p> + “When I yell again for less than $500 I'll be pretty hungry, but I + haven't any intention of yelling at any price.” + </p> + <p> + Redpath pursued him, and in January proposed $400 for a single night in + Philadelphia, but without result. He did lecture two nights in Steinway + Hall for the Mercantile Library Association, on the basis of half profits, + netting $1,300 for the two nights as his share; and he lectured one night + in Hartford, at a profit Of $1,500, for charity. Father Hawley, of + Hartford, had announced that his missionary work was suffering for lack of + funds. Some of his people were actually without food, he said, their + children crying with hunger. No one ever responded to an appeal like that + quicker than Samuel Clemens. He offered to deliver a lecture free, and to + bear an equal proportion of whatever expenses were incurred by the + committee of eight who agreed to join in forwarding the project. He gave + the Sandwich Island lecture, and at the close of it a large card was + handed him with the figures of the receipts printed upon it. It was held + up to view, and the house broke into a storm of cheers. + </p> + <p> + He did very little writing during the early weeks following his return. + Early in the year (January 3 and 6, 1873) he contributed two Sandwich + Island letters to the Tribune, in which, in his own peculiar fashion, he + urged annexation. + </p> + <p> + “We must annex those people,” he declared, and proceeded to + specify the blessings we could give them, such as “leather-headed + juries, the insanity law, and the Tweed Ring.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We can confer Woodhull and Clafin on them, and George Francis Train. + We can give them lecturers! I will go myself. + + We can make that little bunch of sleepy islands the hottest corner + on earth, and array it in the moral splendor of our high and holy + civilization. Annexation is what the poor islanders need! + + “Shall we, to men benighted, the lamp of life deny?” + </pre> + <p> + His success in England became an incentive to certain American + institutions to recognize his gifts at home. Early in the year he was + dined as the guest of the Lotos Club of New York, and a week or two later + elected to its membership. This was but a beginning. Some new membership + or honor was offered every little while, and so many banquets that he + finally invented a set form for declining them. He was not yet recognized + as the foremost American man of letters, but undoubtedly he had become the + most popular; and Edwin Whipple, writing at this time, or but little + later, said: + </p> + <p> + “Mark Twain is regarded chiefly as a humorist, but the exercise of + his real talents would rank him with the ablest of our authors in the past + fifty years.” So he was beginning to be “discovered” in + high places. + </p> + <p> + It was during this winter that the Clemens household enjoyed its first + real home life in Hartford, its first real home life anywhere since those + earliest days of marriage. The Hooker mansion was a comfortable place. The + little family had comparatively good health. Their old friends were stanch + and lavishly warm-hearted, and they had added many new ones. Their + fireside was a delightful nucleus around which gathered those they cared + for most, the Twichells, the Warner families, the Trumbulls—all + certain of a welcome there. George Warner, only a little while ago, + remembering, said: + </p> + <p> + “The Clemens house was the only one I have ever known where there + was never any preoccupation in the evenings, and where visitors were + always welcome. Clemens was the best kind of a host; his evenings after + dinner were an unending flow of stories.” + </p> + <p> + Friends living near by usually came and went at will, often without the + ceremony of knocking or formal leave-taking. They were more like one great + family in that neighborhood, with a community of interests, a unity of + ideals. The Warner families and the Clemenses were particularly intimate, + and out of their association grew Mark Twain's next important literary + undertaking, his collaboration with Charles Dudley Warner in 'The Gilded + Age'. + </p> + <p> + A number of more or less absurd stories have been printed about the origin + of this book. It was a very simple matter, a perfectly natural + development. + </p> + <p> + At the dinner-table one night, with the Warners present, criticisms of + recent novels were offered, with the usual freedom and severity of + dinner-table talk. The husbands were inclined to treat rather lightly the + novels in which their wives were finding entertainment. The wives + naturally retorted that the proper thing for the husbands to do was to + furnish the American people with better ones. This was regarded in the + nature of a challenge, and as such was accepted—mutually accepted: + that is to say, in partnership. On the spur of the moment Clemens and + Warner agreed that they would do a novel together, that they would begin + it immediately. This is the whole story of the book's origin; so far, at + least, as the collaboration is concerned. Clemens, in fact, had the + beginning of a story in his mind, but had been unwilling to undertake an + extended work of fiction alone. He welcomed only too eagerly, therefore, + the proposition of joint authorship. His purpose was to write a tale + around that lovable character of his youth, his mother's cousin, James + Lampton—to let that gentle visionary stand as the central figure + against a proper background. The idea appealed to Warner, and there was no + delay in the beginning. Clemens immediately set to work and completed 399 + pages of the manuscript, the first eleven chapters of the book, before the + early flush of enthusiasm waned. + </p> + <p> + Warner came over then, and Clemens read it aloud to him. Warner had some + plans for the story, and took it up at this point, and continued it + through the next twelve chapters; and so they worked alternately, “in + the superstition,” as Mark Twain long afterward declared, “that + we were writing one coherent yarn, when I suppose, as a matter of fact, we + were writing two incoherent ones.”—[The reader may be + interested in the division of labor. Clemens wrote chapters I to XI; also + chapters XXIV, XXV, XXVII, XXVIII, XXX, XXXII, XXXIII, XXXIV, XXXVI, + XXXVII, XLII, XLIII, XLV, LI, LII, LIII, LVII, LIX, LX, LXI, LXII, and + portions of chapters XXXV, XLIX, LVI. Warner wrote chapters XII to XXIII; + also chapters XXVI, XXIX, XXXI, XXXVIII, XXXIX, XL, XLI, XLIV, XLVI, + XLVII, XLVIII, L, LIV, LV, LVIII, LXIII, and portions of chapters XXXV, + XLIX, and LVI. The work was therefore very evenly divided. + </p> + <p> + There was another co-worker on The Gilded Age before the book was finally + completed. This was J. Hammond Trumbull, who prepared the variegated, + marvelous cryptographic chapter headings: Trumbull was the most learned + man that ever lived in Hartford. He was familiar with all literary and + scientific data, and according to Clemens could swear in twenty-seven + languages. It was thought to be a choice idea to get Trumbull to supply a + lingual medley of quotations to precede the chapters in the new book, the + purpose being to excite interest and possibly to amuse the reader—a + purpose which to some extent appears to have miscarried.] + </p> + <p> + The book was begun in February and finished in April, so the work did not + lag. The result, if not highly artistic, made astonishingly good reading. + Warner had the touch of romance, Clemens, the gift of creating, or at + least of portraying, human realities. Most of his characters reflected + intimate personalities of his early life. Besides the apotheosis of James + Lampton into the immortal Sellers, Orion became Washington Hawkins, Squire + Clemens the judge, while Mark Twain's own personality, in a greater or + lesser degree, is reflected in most of his creations. As for the Tennessee + land, so long a will-o'the-wisp and a bugbear, it became tangible property + at last. Only a year or two before Clemens had written to Orion: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Oh, here! I don't want to be consulted at all about Tennessee. I + don't want it even mentioned to me. When I make a suggestion it is + for you to act upon it or throw it aside, but I beseech you never to + ask my advice, opinion, or consent about that hated property. +</pre> + <p> + But it came in good play now. It is the important theme of the story. + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain was well qualified to construct his share of the tale. He knew + his characters, their lives, and their atmospheres perfectly. Senator + Dilworthy (otherwise Senator Pomeroy, of Kansas, then notorious for + attempted vote-buying) was familiar enough. That winter in Washington had + acquainted Clemens with the life there, its political intrigues, and the + disrepute of Congress. Warner was equally well qualified for his share of + the undertaking, and the chief criticism that one may offer is the one + stated by Clemens himself—that the divisions of the tale remain + divisions rather than unity. + </p> + <p> + As for the story itself—the romance and tragedy of it—the + character of Laura in the hands of either author is one not easy to + forget. Whether this means that the work is well done, or only strikingly + done, the reader himself must judge. Morally, the character is not + justified. Laura was a victim of circumstance from the beginning. There + could be no poetic justice in her doom. To drag her out of a steamer + wreck, only to make her the victim of a scoundrel, later an adventuress, + and finally a murderess, all may be good art, but of a very bad kind. + Laura is a sort of American Becky Sharp; but there is retributive justice + in Becky's fate, whereas Laura's doom is warranted only by the author's + whim. As for her end, whatever the virtuous public of that day might have + done, a present-day audience would not have pelted her from the stage, + destroyed her future, taken away her life. + </p> + <p> + The authors regarded their work highly when it was finished, but that is + nothing. Any author regards his work highly at the moment of its + completion. In later years neither of them thought very well of their + production; but that also is nothing. The author seldom cares very deeply + for his offspring once it is turned over to the public charge. The fact + that the story is still popular, still delights thousands of readers, when + a myriad of novels that have been written since it was completed have + lived their little day and died so utterly that even their names have + passed out of memory, is the best verdict as to its worth. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0094" id="link2H_4_0094"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LXXXIX. PLANNING A NEW HOME + </h2> + <p> + Clemens and his wife bought a lot for the new home that winter, a fine, + sightly piece of land on Farmington Avenue—table-land, sloping down + to a pretty stream that wound through the willows and among the trees. + They were as delighted as children with their new purchase and the + prospect of building. To her sister Mrs. Clemens wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mr. Clemens seems to glory in his sense of possession; he goes daily + into the lot, has had several falls trying to lay off the land by + sliding around on his feet.... + + For three days the ice has covered the trees, and they have been + glorious. We could do nothing but watch the beauty outside; if you + looked at the trees as the sun struck them, with your back toward + the sun, they were covered with jewels. If you looked toward the + sun it was all crystal whiteness, a perfect fairy-land. Then the + nights were moonlight, and that was a great beauty, the moon giving + us the same prismatic effect. +</pre> + <p> + This was the storm of which Mark Twain wrote his matchless description, + given first in his speech on New England weather, and later preserved in + 'Following the Equator', in more extended form. In that book he likens an + ice-storm to his impressions derived from reading descriptions of the Taj + Mahal, that wonderful tomb of a fair East Indian queen. It is a marvelous + bit of word-painting—his description of that majestic vision: + “When every bough and twig is strung with ice-beads, frozen + dewdrops, and the whole tree sparkles cold and white, like the Shah of + Persia's diamond plume.” It will pay any one to look up that + description and read it all, though it has been said, by the fortunate one + or two who heard him first give it utterance as an impromptu outburst, + that in the subsequent process of writing the bloom of its original + magnificence was lost. + </p> + <p> + The plans for the new house were drawn forthwith by that gentle architect + Edward Potter, whose art to-day may be considered open to criticism, but + not because of any lack of originality. Hartford houses of that period + were mainly of the goods-box form of architecture, perfectly square, + typifying the commercial pursuits of many of their owners. Potter agreed + to get away from this idea, and a radical and even frenzied departure was + the result. Certainly his plans presented beautiful pictures, and all who + saw them were filled with wonder and delight. Architecture has lavished + itself in many florescent forms since then, but we may imagine that + Potter's “English violet” order of design, as he himself + designated it, startled, dazzled, and captivated in a day, when most + houses were mere habitations, built with a view to economy and the largest + possible amount of room. + </p> + <p> + Workmen were put on the ground without delay, to prepare for the builders, + and work was rapidly pushed along. Then in May the whole matter was left + in the hands of the architect and the carpenters (with Lawyer Charles E. + Perkins to stand between Potter and the violent builder, who roared at + Potter and frightened him when he wanted changes), while the Clemens + household, with Clara Spaulding, a girlhood friend of Mrs. Clemens, sailed + away to England for a half-year holiday. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0095" id="link2H_4_0095"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XC. A LONG ENGLISH HOLIDAY + </h2> + <p> + They sailed on the Batavia, and with them went a young man named Thompson, + a theological student whom Clemens had consented to take as an amanuensis. + There is a pathetic incident connected with this young man, and it may as + well be set down here. Clemens found, a few weeks after his arrival in + England, that so great was the tax upon his time that he could make no use + of Thompson's services. He gave Thompson fifty dollars, and upon the + possibility of the young man's desiring to return to America, advanced him + another fifty dollars, saying that he could return it some day, and never + thought of it again. But the young man remembered it, and one day, + thirty-six years later, after a life of hardship and struggle, such as the + life of a country minister is apt to be, he wrote and inclosed a + money-order, a payment on his debt. That letter and its inclosure brought + only sorrow to Mark Twain. He felt that it laid upon him the accumulated + burden of the weary thirty-six years' struggle with ill-fortune. He + returned the money, of course, and in a biographical note commented: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + How pale painted heroisms of romance look beside it! Thompson's + heroism, which is real, which is colossal, which is sublime, and + which is costly beyond all estimate, is achieved in profound + obscurity, and its hero walks in rags to the end of his days. I had + forgotten Thompson completely, but he flashes before me as vividly + as lightning. I can see him now. It was on the deck of the + Batavia, in the dock. The ship was casting off, with that hubbub + and confusion and rushing of sailors, and shouting of orders and + shrieking of boatswain whistles, which marked the departure + preparations in those days—an impressive contrast with the solemn + silence which marks the departure preparations of the giant ships of + the present day. Mrs. Clemens, Clara Spaulding, little Susy, and + the nurse-maid were all properly garbed for the occasion. We all + had on our storm-rig, heavy clothes of somber hue, but new and + designed and constructed for the purpose, strictly in accordance + with sea-going etiquette; anything wearable on land being distinctly + and odiously out of the question. + + Very well. On that deck, and gliding placidly among those honorable + and properly upholstered groups, appeared Thompson, young, grave, + long, slim, with an aged fuzzy plug hat towering high on the upper + end of him and followed by a gray duster, which flowed down, without + break or wrinkle, to his ankles. He came straight to us, and shook + hands and compromised us. Everybody could see that we knew him. A + nigger in heaven could not have created a profounder astonishment. + + However, Thompson didn't know that anything was happening. He had + no prejudices about clothes. I can still see him as he looked when + we passed Sandy Hook and the winds of the big ocean smote us. + Erect, lofty, and grand he stood facing the blast, holding his plug + on with both hands and his generous duster blowing out behind, level + with his neck. There were scoffers observing, but he didn't know + it; he wasn't disturbed. + + In my mind, I see him once afterward, clothed as before, taking me + down in shorthand. The Shah of Persia had come to England and Dr. + Hosmer, of the Herald, had sent me to Ostend, to view his Majesty's + progress across the Channel and write an account of it. I can't + recall Thompson after that, and I wish his memory had been as poor + as mine. +</pre> + <p> + They had been a month in London, when the final incident referred to took + place—the arrival of the Shah of Persia—and were comfortably + quartered at the Langham Hotel. To Twichell Clemens wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We have a luxuriously ample suite of apartments on the third floor, + our bedroom looking straight up Portland Place, our parlor having a + noble array of great windows looking out upon both streets (Portland + Place and the crook that joins it onto Regent Street). + + Nine p.m. full twilight, rich sunset tints lingering in the west. + + I am not going to write anything; rather tell it when I get back. + I love you and Harmony, and that is all the fresh news I've got + anyway. And I mean to keep that fresh all the time. +</pre> + <p> + Mrs. Clemens, in a letter to her sister, declared: “It is perfectly + discouraging to try to write you. There is so much to write about that it + makes me feel as if it was no use to begin.” + </p> + <p> + It was a period of continuous honor and entertainment. If Mark Twain had + been a lion on his first visit, he was little less than royalty now. His + rooms at the Langham were like a court. Miss Spaulding (now Mrs. John B. + Stanchfield) remembers that Robert Browning, Turgenieff, Sir John Millais, + Lord Houghton, and Sir Charles Dilke (then at the height of his fame) were + among those that called to pay their respects. In a recent letter she + says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I remember a delightful luncheon that Charles Kingsley gave for Mr. + Clemens; also an evening when Lord Dunraven brought Mr. Home, the + medium, Lord Dunraven telling many of the remarkable things he had + seen Mr. Home do. I remember I wanted so much to see him float out + of a seven or eight story window, and enter another, which Lord + Dunraven said he had seen him do many times. But Mr. Home had been + very ill, and said his power had left him. My great regret was that + we did not see Carlyle, who was too sad and ill for visits. +</pre> + <p> + Among others they met Lewis Carroll, the author of Alice in Wonderland, + and found him so shy that it was almost impossible to get him to say a + word on any subject. + </p> + <p> + “The shyest full-grown man, except Uncle Remus, I ever met,” + Clemens once wrote. “Dr. MacDonald and several other lively talkers + were present, and the talk went briskly on for a couple of hours, but + Carroll sat still all the while, except now and then when he answered a + question.” + </p> + <p> + At a dinner given by George Smalley they met Herbert Spencer, and at a + luncheon-party at Lord Houghton's, Sir Arthur Helps, then a world-wide + celebrity. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Lord Elcho, a large, vigorous man, sat at some distance down the + table. He was talking earnestly about the town of Godalming. It + was a deep, flowing, and inarticulate rumble, but I caught the + Godalming pretty nearly every time it broke free of the rumbling, + and as all the strength was on the first end of the word, it + startled me every time, because it sounded so like swearing. In the + middle of the luncheon Lady Houghton rose, remarked to the guests on + her right and on her left, in a matter-of-fact way, “Excuse me, I + have an engagement,” and without further ceremony, she went off to + meet it. This would have been doubtful etiquette in America. Lord + Houghton told a number of delightful stories. He told them in + French, and I lost nothing of them but the nubs. +</pre> + <p> + Little Susy and her father thrived on London life, but after a time it + wore on Mrs. Clemens. She delighted in the English cordiality and culture, + but the demands were heavy, the social forms sometimes trying. Life in + London was interesting, and in its way charming, but she did not enter + into it with quite her husband's enthusiasm and heartiness. In the end + they canceled all London engagements and quietly set out for Scotland. On + the way they rested a few days in York, a venerable place such as Mark + Twain always loved to describe. In a letter to Mrs. Langdon he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + For the present we shall remain in this queer old walled town, with + its crooked, narrow lanes, that tell us of their old day that knew + no wheeled vehicles; its plaster-and-timber dwellings, with upper + stories far overhanging the street, and thus marking their date, + say three hundred years ago; the stately city walls, the castellated + gates, the ivy-grown, foliage-sheltered, most noble and picturesque + ruin of St. Mary's Abbey, suggesting their date, say five hundred + years ago, in the heart of Crusading times and the glory of English + chivalry and romance; the vast Cathedral of York, with its worn + carvings and quaintly pictured windows, preaching of still remoter + days; the outlandish names of streets and courts and byways that + stand as a record and a memorial, all these centuries, of Danish + dominion here in still earlier times; the hint here and there of + King Arthur and his knights and their bloody fights with Saxon + oppressors round about this old city more than thirteen hundred + years gone by; and, last of all, the melancholy old stone coffins + and sculptured inscriptions, a venerable arch and a hoary tower of + stone that still remain and are kissed by the sun and caressed by + the shadows every day, just as the sun and the shadows have kissed + and, caressed them every lagging day since the Roman Emperor's + soldiers placed them here in the times when Jesus the Son of Mary + walked the streets of Nazareth a youth, with no more name or fame + than the Yorkshire boy who is loitering down this street this + moment. +</pre> + <p> + They reached Edinburgh at the end of July and secluded themselves in + Veitch's family hotel in George Street, intending to see no one. But this + plan was not a success; the social stress of London had been too much for + Mrs. Clemens, and she collapsed immediately after their arrival. Clemens + was unacquainted in Edinburgh, but remembered that Dr. John Brown, who had + written Rab and His Friend, lived there. He learned his address, and that + he was still a practising physician. He walked around to 23 Rutland + Street, and made himself known. Dr. Brown came forthwith, and Mrs. Clemens + speedily recovered under his able and inspiring treatment. + </p> + <p> + The association did not end there. For nearly a month Dr. Brown was their + daily companion, either at the hotel, or in his own home, or on protracted + drives when he made his round of visits, taking these new friends along. + Dr. John was beloved by everybody in Edinburgh, everybody in Scotland, for + that matter, and his story of Rab had won him a following throughout + Christendom. He was an unpretentious sovereign. Clemens once wrote of him: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + His was a sweet and winning face, as beautiful a face as I have ever + known. Reposeful, gentle, benignant; the face of a saint at peace + with all the world and placidly beaming upon it the sunshine of love + that filled his heart. +</pre> + <p> + He was the friend of all dogs, and of all people. It has been told of him + that once, when driving, he thrust his head suddenly out of the carriage + window, then resumed his place with a disappointed look. + </p> + <p> + “Who was it?” asked his companion. “Some one you know?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said. “A dog I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + He became the boon companion and playmate of little Susy, then not quite a + year and a half old. He called her Megalopis, a Greek term, suggested by + her eyes; those deep, burning eyes that seemed always so full of life's + sadder philosophies, and impending tragedy. In a collection of Dr. Brown's + letters he refers to this period. In one place he says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Had the author of The Innocents Abroad not come to Edinburgh at that + time we in all human probability might never have met, and what a + deprivation that would have been to me during the last quarter of a + century! +</pre> + <p> + And in another place: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I am attending the wife of Mark Twain. His real name is Clemens. + She is a quite lovely little woman, modest and clever, and she has a + girlie eighteen months old, her ludicrous miniature—and such eyes! +</pre> + <p> + Those playmates, the good doctor and Megalopis, romped together through + the hotel rooms with that complete abandon which few grown persons can + assume in their play with children, and not all children can assume in + their play with grown-ups. They played “bear,” and the “bear” + (which was a very little one, so little that when it stood up behind the + sofa you could just get a glimpse of yellow hair) would lie in wait for + her victim, and spring out and surprise him and throw him into frenzies of + fear. + </p> + <p> + Almost every day they made his professional rounds with him. He always + carried a basket of grapes for his patients. His guests brought along + books to read while they waited. When he stopped for a call he would say: + </p> + <p> + “Entertain yourselves while I go in and reduce the population.” + </p> + <p> + There was much sight-seeing to do in Edinburgh, and they could not quite + escape social affairs. There were teas and luncheons and dinners with the + Dunfermlines and the Abercrombies, and the MacDonalds, and with others of + those brave clans that no longer slew one another among the grim northern + crags and glens, but were as sociable and entertaining lords and ladies as + ever the southland could produce. They were very gentle folk indeed, and + Mrs. Clemens, in future years, found her heart going back oftener to + Edinburgh than to any other haven of those first wanderings. August 24th + she wrote to her sister: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We leave Edinburgh to-morrow with sincere regret; we have had such a + delightful stay here—we do so regret leaving Dr. Brown and his + sister, thinking that we shall probably never see them again [as + indeed they never did]. +</pre> + <p> + They spent a day or two at Glasgow and sailed for Ireland, where they put + in a fortnight, and early in September were back in England again, at + Chester, that queer old city where; from a tower on the wall, Charles I. + read the story of his doom. Reginald Cholmondeley had invited them to + visit his country seat, beautiful Condover Hall, near Shrewsbury, and in + that lovely retreat they spent some happy, restful days. Then they were in + the whirl of London once more, but escaped for a fortnight to Paris, + sight-seeing and making purchases for the new home. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Clemens was quite ready to return to America, by this time. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I am blue and cross and homesick [she wrote]. I suppose what makes + me feel the latter is because we are contemplating to stay in London + another month. There has not one sheet of Mr. Clemens's proof come + yet, and if he goes home before the book is published here he will + lose his copyright. And then his friends feel that it will be + better for him to lecture in London before his book is published, + not only that it will give him a larger but a more enviable + reputation. I would not hesitate one moment if it were simply for + the money that his copyright will bring him, but if his reputation + will be better for his staying and lecturing, of course he ought to + stay.... The truth is, I can't bear the thought of postponing going + home. +</pre> + <p> + It is rather gratifying to find Olivia Clemens human, like that, now and + then. Otherwise, on general testimony, one might well be tempted to regard + her as altogether of another race and kind. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0096" id="link2H_4_0096"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XCI. A LONDON LECTURE + </h2> + <p> + Clemens concluded to hasten the homeward journey, but to lecture a few + nights in London before starting. He would then accompany his little + family home, and return at once to continue the lecture series and protect + his copyright. This plan was carried out. In a communication to the + Standard, October 7th, he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SIR,—In view of the prevailing frenzy concerning the Sandwich + Islands, and the inflamed desire of the public to acquire + information concerning them, I have thought it well to tarry yet + another week in England and deliver a lecture upon this absorbing + subject. And lest it should be thought unbecoming in me, a + stranger, to come to the public rescue at such a time, instead of + leaving to abler hands a matter of so much moment, I desire to + explain that I do it with the best motives and the most honorable + intentions. I do it because I am convinced that no one can allay + this unwholesome excitement as effectually as I can, and to allay + it, and allay it as quickly as possible, is surely one thing that is + absolutely necessary at this juncture. I feel and know that I am + equal to this task, for I can allay any kind of an excitement by + lecturing upon it. I have saved many communities in this way. I + have always been able to paralyze the public interest in any topic + that I chose to take hold of and elucidate with all my strength. + + Hoping that this explanation will show that if I am seeming to + intrude I am at least doing it from a high impulse, I am, sir, your + obedient servant, + MARK TWAIN. +</pre> + <p> + A day later the following announcement appeared: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + QUEEN'S CONCERT ROOMS, + HANOVER SQUARE. + + MR. GEORGE DOLBY begs to announce that + + MR. MARK TWAIN + + WILL DELIVER A + LECTURE + OF A + HUMOROUS CHARACTER, + + AS ABOVE, ON + MONDAY EVENING NEXT, OCTOBER 13th, 1873, + AND REPEAT IT IN THE SAME PLACE, ON + TUESDAY EVENING, OCTOBER 14th, + WEDNESDAY “ “ 15th, + THURSDAY “ “ 16th, + FRIDAY “ “ 17th, + + At Eight o'Clock, + AND + SATURDAY AFTERNOON, OCTOBER 18th, + At Three o'Clock. + + SUBJECT: + “Our Fellow Savages of the Sandwich Islands.” + + As Mr. TWAIN has spent several months in these Islands, and is well + acquainted with his subject, the Lecture may be expected to furnish + matter of interest. + + STALLS, 5s. UNRESERVED SEATS, 3s. +</pre> + <p> + The prospect of a lecture from Mark Twain interested the London public. + Those who had not seen him were willing to pay even for that privilege. + The papers were encouraging; Punch sounded a characteristic note: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + WELCOME TO A LECTURER + + “'Tis time we Twain did show ourselves.” 'Twas said + By Caesar, when one Mark had lost his head: + By Mark, whose head's quite bright, 'tis said again: + Therefore, “go with me, friends, to bless this Twain.” + + —Punch. +</pre> + <p> + Dolby had managed the Dickens lectures, and he proved his sound business + judgment and experience by taking the largest available hall in London for + Mark Twain. + </p> + <p> + On the evening of October 13th, in the spacious Queen's Concert Rooms, + Hanover Square, Mark Twain delivered his first public address in England. + The subject was “Our Fellow Savages of the Sandwich Islands,” + the old lecture with which he had made his first great successes. He was + not introduced. He appeared on the platform in evening dress, assuming the + character of a manager announcing a disappointment. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Clemens, he said, had fully expected to be present. He paused and loud + murmurs arose from the audience. He lifted his hand and they subsided. + Then he added, “I am happy to say that Mark Twain is present, and + will now give his lecture.” Whereupon the audience roared its + approval. + </p> + <p> + It would be hardly an exaggeration to say that his triumph that week was a + regal one. For five successive nights and a Saturday matinee the culture + and fashion of London thronged to hear him discourse of their “fellow + savages.” It was a lecture event wholly without precedent. The + lectures of Artemus Ward,—[“Artemus the delicious,” as + Charles Reade called him, came to London in June, 1866, and gave his + “piece” in Egyptian Hall. The refined, delicate, intellectual + countenance, the sweet, gave, mouth, from which one might have expected + philosophical lectures retained their seriousness while listeners were + convulsed with laughter. There was something magical about it. Every + sentence was a surprise. He played on his audience as Liszt did on a piano + most easily when most effectively. Who can ever forget his attempt to stop + his Italian pianist—“a count in his own country, but not much + account in this”—who went on playing loudly while he was + trying to tell us an “affecting incident” that occurred near a + small clump of trees shown on his panorama of the Far West. The music + stormed on-we could see only lips and arms pathetically moving till the + piano suddenly ceased, and we heard-it was all we heard “and, she + fainted in Reginald's arms.” His tricks have been at tempted in many + theaters, but Artemus Ward was inimitable. And all the time the man was + dying. (Moneure D. Conway, Autobiography.)]—who had quickly become a + favorite in London, had prepared the public for American platform humor, + while the daily doings of this new American product, as reported by the + press, had aroused interest, or curiosity, to a high pitch. On no occasion + in his own country had he won such a complete triumph. The papers for a + week devoted columns of space to appreciation and editorial comment. The + Daily News of October 17th published a column-and-a-half editorial on + American humor, with Mark Twain's public appearance as the general text. + The Times referred to the continued popularity of the lectures: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + They can't be said to have more than whetted the public appetite, if + we are to take the fact which has been imparted to us, that the + holding capacity of the Hanover Square Rooms has been inadequate to + the demand made upon it every night by Twain's lecturing, as a + criterion. The last lecture of this too brief course was delivered + yesterday before an audience which crammed to discomfort every part + of the principal apartment of the Hanover Square Rooms.... +</pre> + <p> + At the close of yesterday's lecture Mark Twain was so loudly applauded + that he returned to the stage, and, as soon as the audience gave him a + chance of being heard, he said, with much apparent emotion: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Ladies and Gentlemen,—I won't keep you one single moment in this + suffocating atmosphere. I simply wish to say that this is the last + lecture I shall have the honor to deliver in London until I return + from America, four weeks from now. I only wish to say (here Mr. + Clemens faltered as if too much affected to proceed) I am very + grateful. I do not wish to appear pathetic, but it is something + magnificent for a stranger to come to the metropolis of the world + and be received so handsomely as I have been. I simply thank you.” + </pre> + <p> + The Saturday Review devoted a page, and Once a Week, under the head of + “Cracking jokes,” gave three pages, to praise of the literary + and lecture methods of the new American humorist. With the promise of + speedy return, he left London, gave the lecture once in Liverpool, and + with his party (October 21st) set sail for home. + </p> + <p> + In mid-Atlantic he remembered Dr. Brown, and wrote him: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We have plowed a long way over the sea, and there's twenty-two + hundred miles of restless water between us now, besides the railway + stretch. And yet you are so present with us, so close to us, that a + span and a whisper would bridge the distance. +</pre> + <p> + So it would seem that of all the many memories of that eventful half-year, + that of Dr. Brown was the most present, the most tender. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0097" id="link2H_4_0097"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XCII. FURTHER LONDON LECTURE TRIUMPHS + </h2> + <p> + Orion Clemens records that he met “Sam and Livy” on their + arrival from England, November 2d, and that the president of the + Mercantile Library Association sent up his card “four times,” + in the hope of getting a chance to propose a lecture engagement—an + incident which impressed Orion deeply in its evidence of his brother's + towering importance. Orion himself was by this time engaged in various + projects. He was inventing a flying-machine, for one thing, writing a + Jules Verne story, reading proof on a New York daily, and contemplating + the lecture field. This great blaze of international appreciation which + had come to the little boy who used to set type for him in Hannibal, and + wash up the forms and cry over the dirty proof, made him gasp. + </p> + <p> + They went to see Booth in Hamlet [he says], and Booth sent for Sam to come + behind the scenes, and when Sam proposed to add a part to Hamlet, the part + of a bystander who makes humorous modern comment on the situations in the + play, Booth laughed immoderately. + </p> + <p> + Proposing a sacrilege like that to Booth! To what heights had this + printer-pilot, miner-brother not attained!—[This idea of introducing + a new character in Hamlet was really attempted later by Mark Twain, with + the connivance of Joe Goodman [of all men], sad to relate. So far as is + known it is the one stain on Goodman's literary record.] + </p> + <p> + Clemens returned immediately to England—the following Saturday, in + fact—and was back in London lecturing again after barely a month's + absence. He gave the “Roughing It” address, this time under + the title of “Roughing It on the Silver Frontier,” and if his + audiences were any less enthusiastic, or his houses less crowded than + before, the newspapers of that day have left no record of it. It was the + height of the season now, and being free to do so, he threw himself into + the whirl of it, and for two months, beyond doubt, was the most talked-of + figure in London. The Athenaeum Club made him a visiting member (an honor + considered next to knighthood); Punch quoted him; societies banqueted him; + his apartments, as before; were besieged by callers. Afternoons one was + likely to find him in “Poets' Corner” of the Langham + smoking-room, with a group of London and American authors—Reade, + Collins, Miller, and the others—frankly rioting in his bold fancies. + Charles Warren Stoddard was in London at the time, and acted as his + secretary. Stoddard was a gentle poet, a delightful fellow, and Clemens + was very fond of him. His only complaint of Stoddard was that he did not + laugh enough at his humorous yarns. Clemens once said: + </p> + <p> + “Dolby and I used to come in after the lecture, or perhaps after + being out to some dinner, and we liked to sit down and talk it over and + tell yarns, and we expected Stoddard to laugh at them, but Stoddard would + lie there on the couch and snore. Otherwise, as a secretary, he was + perfect.” + </p> + <p> + The great Tichborne trial was in progress then, and the spectacle of an + illiterate impostor trying to establish his claim as the rightful heir to + a great estate was highly diverting to Mark Twain.—[In a letter of + this period he speaks of having attended one of the Claimant's “Evenings.”]—He + wanted to preserve the evidence as future literary material, and Stoddard + day after day patiently collected the news reports and neatly pasted them + into scrap-books, where they still rest, a complete record of that now + forgotten farce. The Tichborne trial recalled to Mark Twain the claimant + in the Lampton family, who from time to time wrote him long letters, + urging him to join in the effort to establish his rights to the earldom of + Durham. This American claimant was a distant cousin, who had “somehow + gotten hold of, or had fabricated a full set of documents.” + </p> + <p> + Colonel Henry Watterson, just quoted (also a Lampton connection), adds: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + During the Tichborne trial Mark and I were in London, and one day he + said to me: “I have investigated this Durham business down at the + Herald's office. There is nothing to it. The Lamptons passed out + of the earldom of Durham a hundred years ago. There were never any + estates; the title lapsed; the present earldom is a new creation, + not in the same family at all. But I'll tell you what: if you'll + put up $500, I'll put up $500 more; we'll bring our chap over here + and set him in as claimant, and, my word for it, Kenealy's fat boy + won't be a marker to him.” + </pre> + <p> + It was a characteristic Mark Twain project, one of the sort he never + earned out in reality, but loved to follow in fancy, and with the pen + sometimes. The “Rightful Earl of Durham” continued to send + letters for a long time after that (some of them still exist), but he did + not establish his claim. No one but Mark Twain ever really got anything + out of it. Like the Tennessee land, it furnished material by and by for a + book. Colonel Watterson goes on to say that Clemens was only joking about + having looked up the matter in the peerage; that he hadn't really looked + it up at all, and that the earldom lies still in the Lampton family. + </p> + <p> + Another of Clemens's friends in London at this time was Prentice Mulford, + of California. In later years Mulford acquired a wide reputation for his + optimistic and practical psychologies. Through them he lifted himself out + of the slough of despond, and he sought to extend a helping hand to + others. His “White Cross Library” had a wide reading and a + wide influence; perhaps has to this day. But in 1873 Mulford had not found + the tangibility of thought, the secret of strength; he was only finding + it, maybe, in his frank acknowledgment of shortcoming: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Now, Mark, I am down-very much down at present; you are up-where you + deserve to be. I can't ask this on the score of any past favors, + for there have been none. I have not always spoken of you in terms + of extravagant praise; have sometimes criticized you, which was due, + I suppose, in part to an envious spirit. I am simply human. Some + people in the same profession say they entertain no jealousy of + those more successful. I can't. They are divine; I am not. +</pre> + <p> + It was only that he wished Clemens to speak a word for him to Routledge, + to get him a hearing for his work. He adds: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I shall be up myself some day, although my line is far apart from + yours. Whether you can do anything that I ask of you or not, I + shall be happy then, as I would be now, to do you any just and right + service.... Perhaps I have mistaken my vocation. Certainly, if I + was back with my rocker on the Tuolumne, I'd make it rattle livelier + than ever I did before. I have occasionally thought of London + Bridge, but the Thames is now so d—-d cold and dirty, and besides I + can swim, and any attempt at drowning would, through the mere + instinct of self-preservation, only result in my swimming ashore and + ruining my best clothes; wherefore I should be worse off than ever. +</pre> + <p> + Of course Mark Twain granted the favor Mulford asked, and a great deal + more, no doubt, for that was his way. Mulford came up, as he had + prophesied, but the sea in due time claimed him, though not in the way he + had contemplated. Years after he was one day found drifting off the shores + of Long Island in an open boat, dead. + </p> + <p> + Clemens made a number of notable dinner speeches during this second London + lecture period. His response to the toast of the “Ladies,” + delivered at the annual dinner of the Scottish Corporation of London, was + the sensational event of the evening. + </p> + <p> + He was obliged to decline an invitation to the Lord Mayor's dinner, + whereupon his Lordship wrote to urge him to be present at least at the + finale, when the welcome would be “none the less hearty,” and + bespoke his attendance for any future dinners. + </p> + <p> + Clemens lectured steadily at the Hanover Square Rooms during the two + months of his stay in London, and it was only toward the end of this + astonishing engagement that the audience began to show any sign of + diminishing. Early in January he wrote to Twichell: + </p> + <p> + I am not going to the provinces because I cannot get halls that are large + enough. I always felt cramped in the Hanover Square Rooms, but I find that + everybody here speaks with awe and respect of that prodigious hall and + wonders that I could fill it so long. + </p> + <p> + I am hoping to be back in twenty days, but I have so much to go home to + and enjoy with a jubilant joy that it hardly seems possible that it can + come to pass in so uncertain a world as this. + </p> + <p> + In the same letter he speaks of attending an exhibition of Landseer's + paintings at the Royal Academy: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ah, they are wonderfully beautiful! There are such rich moonlights + and dusks in the “Challenge” and the “Combat,” and in that long + flight of birds across a lake in the subdued flush of sunset (or + sunrise, for no man can ever tell t'other from which in a picture, + except it has the filmy morning mist breathing itself up from the + water), and there is such a grave analytical profundity in the face + of the connoisseurs; and such pathos in the picture of a fawn + suckling its dead mother on a snowy waste, with only the blood in + the footprints to hint that she is not asleep. And the way that he + makes animals' flesh and blood, insomuch that if the room were + darkened ever so little, and a motionless living animal placed + beside the painted one, no man could tell which was which. +</pre> + <p> + I interrupted myself here, to drop a line to Shirley Brooks and suggest a + cartoon for Punch. It was this: in one of the Academy saloons (in a suite + where these pictures are) a fine bust of Landseer stands on a pedestal in + the center of the room. I suggested that some of Landseer's best known + animals be represented as having come down out of their frames in the + moonlight and grouped themselves about the bust in mourning attitudes. + </p> + <p> + He sailed January 13 (1874.), on the Paythia, and two weeks later was at + home, where all was going well. The Gilded Age had been issued a day or + two before Christmas, and was already in its third edition. By the end of + January 26,000 copies had been sold, a sale that had increased to 40,000 a + month later. The new house was progressing, though it was by no means + finished. Mrs. Clemens was in good health. Little Susy was full of such + American activities as to earn the name of “The Modoc.” The + promise of the year was bright. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0098" id="link2H_4_0098"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XCIII. THE REAL COLONEL SELLERS-GOLDEN DAYS + </h2> + <p> + There are bound to be vexations, flies in the ointment, as we say. It was + Warner who conferred the name of Eschol Sellers on the chief figure of the + collaborated novel. Warner had known it as the name of an obscure person, + or perhaps he had only heard of it. At all events, it seemed a good one + for the character and had been adopted. But behold, the book had been + issued but a little while when there rose “out of the vasty deeps” + a genuine Eschol Sellers, who was a very respectable person. He was a + stout, prosperous-looking man, gray and about fifty-five years old. He + came into the American Publishing Company offices and asked permission to + look at the book. Mr. Bliss was out at the moment, but presently arrived. + The visitor rose and introduced himself. + </p> + <p> + “My name is Eschol Sellers,” he said. “You have used it + in one of your publications. It has brought upon me a lot of ridicule. My + people wish me to sue you for $10,000 damages.” + </p> + <p> + He had documents to prove his identity, and there was only one thing to be + done; he must be satisfied. Bliss agreed to recall as many of the + offending volumes as possible and change the name on the plates. He + contacted the authors, and the name Beriah was substituted for the + offending Eschol. It turned out that the real Sellers family was a large + one, and that the given name Eschol was not uncommon in its several + branches. This particular Eschol Sellers, curiously enough, was an + inventor and a promoter, though of a much more substantial sort than his + fiction namesake. He was also a painter of considerable merit, a writer + and an antiquarian. He was said to have been a grandson of the famous + painter, Rembrandt Peale. + </p> + <p> + Clemens vowed that he would not lecture in America that winter. The + irrepressible Redpath besieged him as usual, and at the end of January + Clemens telegraphed him, as he thought, finally. Following it with a + letter of explanation, he added: + </p> + <p> + “I said to her, 'There isn't money enough in America to hire me to + leave you for one day.'” + </p> + <p> + But Redpath was a persistent devil. He used arguments and held out + inducements which even Mrs. Clemens thought should not be resisted, and + Clemens yielded from time to time, and gave a lecture here and there + during February. Finally, on the 3d of March (1879.) he telegraphed his + tormentor: + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you congratulate me? I never expect to stand on a lecture + platform again after Thursday night.” + </p> + <p> + Howells tells delightfully of a visit which he and Aldrich paid to + Hartford just at this period. Aldrich went to visit Clemens and Howells to + visit Charles Dudley Warner, Clemens coming as far as Springfield to + welcome them. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In the good-fellowship of that cordial neighborhood we had two such + days as the aging sun no longer shines on in his round. There was + constant running in and out of friendly houses where the lively + hosts and guests called one another by their Christian names or + nicknames, and no such vain ceremony as knocking or ringing at + doors. Clemens was then building the stately mansion in which he + satisfied his love of magnificence as if it had been another + sealskin coat, and he was at the crest of the prosperity which + enabled him to humor every whim or extravagance. +</pre> + <p> + Howells tells how Clemens dilated on the advantages of subscription sale + over the usual methods of publication, and urged the two Boston authors to + prepare something which canvassers could handle. + </p> + <p> + “Why, any other means of bringing out a book is privately printing + it,” he declared, and added that his subscription books in Bliss's + hands sold right along, “just like the Bible.” + </p> + <p> + On the way back to Boston Howells and Aldrich planned a subscription book + which would sell straight along, like the Bible. It was to be called + “Twelve Memorable Murders.” They had dreamed two or three + fortunes by the time they had reached Boston, but the project ended there. + </p> + <p> + “We never killed a single soul,” Howells said once to the + writer of this memoir. + </p> + <p> + Clemens was always urging Howells to visit him after that. He offered all + sorts of inducements. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + You will find us the most reasonable people in the world. We had + thought of precipitating upon you, George Warner and his wife one + day, Twichell and his jewel of a wife another day, and Charles + Perkins and wife another. Only those—simply members of our family + they are. But I'll close the door against them all, which will + “fix” all of the lot except Twichell, who will no more hesitate to + climb in the back window than nothing. + + And you shall go to bed when you please, get up when you please, + talk when you please, read when you please. +</pre> + <p> + A little later he was urging Howells or Aldrich, or both of them; to come + to Hartford to live. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mr. Hall, who lives in the house next to Mrs. Stowe's (just where we + drive in to go to our new house), will sell for $16,000 or $17,000. + You can do your work just as well here as in Cambridge, can't you? + Come! Will one of you boys buy that house? Now, say yes. +</pre> + <p> + Certainly those were golden, blessed days, and perhaps, as Howells says, + the sun does not shine on their like any more—not in Hartford, at + least, for the old group that made them no longer assembles there. + Hartford about this time became a sort of shrine for all literary + visitors, and for other notables as well, whether of America or from + overseas. It was the half-way place between Boston and New York, and + pilgrims going in either direction rested there. It is said that travelers + arriving in America, were apt to remember two things they wished to see: + Niagara Falls and Mark Twain. But the Falls had no such recent advertising + advantage as that spectacular success in London. Visitors were apt to + begin in Hartford. + </p> + <p> + Howells went with considerable frequency after that, or rather with + regularity, twice a year, or oftener, and his coming was always hailed + with great rejoicing. They visited and ate around at one place and another + among that pleasant circle of friends. But they were happiest afterward + together, Clemens smoking continually, “soothing his tense nerves + with a mild hot Scotch,” says Howells, “while we both talked, + and talked, and tasked of everything in the heavens and on the earth, and + the waters under the earth. After two days of this talk I would come away + hollow, realizing myself best in the image of one of those locust-shells + which you find sticking to the bark of trees at the end of summer.” + Sometimes Clemens told the story of his early life, “the + inexhaustible, the fairy, the Arabian Nights story, which I could never + tire of even when it began to be told over again.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0099" id="link2H_4_0099"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XCIV. BEGINNING “TOM SAWYER” + </h2> + <p> + The Clemens household went to Quarry Farm in April, leaving the new house + once more in the hands of the architect and builders. It was costing a + vast sum of money, and there was a financial stress upon land. Mrs. + Clemens, always prudent, became a little uneasy at times, though without + warrant in those days, for her business statement showed that her holdings + were only a little less than a quarter of a million in her own right, + while her husband's books and lectures had been highly remunerative, and + would be more so. They were justified in living in ample, even luxurious + comfort, and how free from financial worries they could have lived for the + rest of their days! + </p> + <p> + Clemens, realizing his happiness, wrote Dr. Brown: + </p> + <p> + Indeed I am thankful for the wifey and the child, and if there is one + individual creature on all this footstool who is more thoroughly and + uniformly and, unceasingly happy than I am I defy the world to produce him + and prove him. In my opinion he don't exist. I was a mighty rough, coarse, + unpromising subject when Livy took charge of me, four years ago, and I may + still be to the rest of the world, but not to her. She has made a very + creditable job of me. + </p> + <p> + Truly fortune not only smiled, but laughed. Every mail brought great + bundles of letters that sang his praises. Robert Watt, who had translated + his books into Danish, wrote of their wide popularity among his people. + Madame Blanc (Th. Bentzon), who as early as 1872 had translated The + Jumping Frog into French, and published it, with extended comment on the + author and his work, in the 'Revue des deux mondes', was said to be + preparing a review of 'The Gilded Age'. All the world seemed ready to do + him honor. + </p> + <p> + Of course, one must always pay the price, usually a vexatious one. Bores + stopped him on the street to repeat ancient and witless stories. Invented + anecdotes, some of them exasperating ones, went the rounds of the press. + Impostors in distant localities personated him, or claimed to be near + relatives, and obtained favors, sometimes money, in his name. Trivial + letters, seeking benefactions of every kind, took the savor from his daily + mail. Letters from literary aspirants were so numerous that he prepared a + “form” letter of reply: + </p> + <p> + DEAR SIR OR MADAM,—Experience has not taught me very much, still it + has taught me that it is not wise to criticize a piece of literature, + except to an enemy of the person who wrote it; then if you praise it that + enemy admires—you for your honest manliness, and if you dispraise it + he admires you for your sound judgment. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yours truly, S. L. C. +</pre> + <p> + Even Orion, now in Keokuk on a chicken farm, pursued him with manuscripts + and proposals of schemes. Clemens had bought this farm for Orion, who had + counted on large and quick returns, but was planning new enterprises + before the first eggs were hatched. Orion Clemens was as delightful a + character as was ever created in fiction, but he must have been a trial + now and then to Mark Twain. We may gather something of this from a letter + written by the latter to his mother and sister at this period: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I can't “encourage” Orion. Nobody can do that conscientiously, for + the reason that before one's letter has time to reach him he is off + on some new wild-goose chase. Would you encourage in literature a + man who the older he grows the worse he writes? + + I cannot encourage him to try the ministry, because he would change + his religion so fast that he would have to keep a traveling agent + under wages to go ahead of him to engage pulpits and board for him. + + I cannot conscientiously encourage him to do anything but potter + around his little farm and put in his odd hours contriving new and + impossible projects at the rate of 365 a year which is his customary + average. He says he did well in Hannibal! Now there is a man who + ought to be entirely satisfied with the grandeurs, emoluments, and + activities of a hen farm. + + If you ask me to pity Orion I can do that. I can do it every day + and all day long. But one can't “encourage” quicksilver; because + the instant you put your finger on it, it isn't there. No, I am + saying too much. He does stick to his literary and legal + aspirations, and he naturally would elect the very two things which + he is wholly and preposterously unfitted for. If I ever become + able, I mean to put Orion on a regular pension without revealing the + fact that it is a pension. + + He did presently allow the pension, a liberal one, which continued + until neither Orion Clemens nor his wife had further earthly need of + it. +</pre> + <p> + Mark Twain for some time had contemplated one of the books that will + longest preserve his memory, 'The Adventures of Tom Sawyer'. The success + of 'Roughing It' naturally made him cast about for other autobiographical + material, and he remembered those days along the river-front in Hannibal—his + skylarking with Tom Blankenship, the Bowen boys, John Briggs, and the + rest. He had recognized these things as material—inviting material + it was—and now in the cool luxury of Quarry Farm he set himself to + spin the fabric of youth. + </p> + <p> + He found summer-time always his best period for literary effort, and on a + hillside just by the old quarry, Mrs. Crane had built for him that spring + a study—a little room of windows, somewhat suggestive of a + pilot-house—overlooking the long sweep of grass and the dreamlike + city below. Vines were planted that in the course of time would cover and + embower it; there was a tiny fireplace for chilly days. To Twichell, of + his new retreat, Clemens wrote: + </p> + <p> + It is the loveliest study you ever saw. It is octagonal, with a peaked + roof, each face filled with a spacious window, and it sits perched in + complete isolation on the top of an elevation that commands leagues of + valley and city and retreating ranges of distant blue hills. It is a cozy + nest and just room in it for a sofa, table, and three or four chairs, and + when the storms sweep down the remote valley and the lightning flashes + behind the hills beyond, and the rain beats upon the roof over my head, + imagine the luxury of it. + </p> + <p> + He worked steadily there that summer. He would go up mornings, after + breakfast, remaining until nearly dinner-time, say until five o'clock or + after, for it was not his habit to eat luncheon. Other members of the + family did not venture near the place, and if he was urgently wanted they + blew a horn. Each evening he brought down his day's performance to read to + the assembled family. He felt the need of audience and approval. Usually + he earned the latter, but not always. Once, when for a day he put aside + other matters to record a young undertaker's love-affair, and brought down + the result in the evening, fairly bubbling with the joy of it, he met with + a surprise. The tale was a ghastly burlesque, its humor of the most + disheartening, unsavory sort. No one spoke during the reading, nobody + laughed: The air was thick with disapproval. His voice lagged and faltered + toward the end. When he finished there was heavy silence. Mrs. Clemens was + the only one who could speak: + </p> + <p> + “Youth, let's walk a little,” she said. + </p> + <p> + The “Undertaker's Love Story” is still among the manuscripts + of that period, but it is unlikely that it will ever see the light of + print.—[This tale bears no relation to “The Undertaker's Story” + in Sketches New and Old.] + </p> + <p> + The Tom Sawyer tale progressed steadily and satisfactorily. Clemens wrote + Dr. Brown: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have been writing fifty pages of manuscript a day, on an average, + for some time now, on a book (a story), and consequently have been + so wrapped up in it, and dead to everything else, that I have fallen + mighty short in letter-writing.... + + On hot days I spread the study wide open, anchor my papers down with + brickbats, and write in the midst of the hurricane, clothed in the + same thin linen we make shirts of. +</pre> + <p> + He incloses some photographs in this letter. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The group [he says] represents the vine-clad carriageway in front of + the farm-house. On the left is Megalopis sitting in the lap of her + German nurse-maid. I am sitting behind them. Mrs. Crane is in the + center. Mr. Crane next to her. Then Mrs. Clemens and the new baby. + Her Irish nurse stands at her back. Then comes the table waitress, + a young negro girl, born free. Next to her is Auntie Cord (a + fragment of whose history I have just sent to a magazine). She is + the cook; was in slavery more than forty years; and the self- + satisfied wench, the last of the group, is the little baby's + American nurse-maid. In the middle distance my mother-in-law's + coachman (up on errand) has taken a position unsolicited to help out + the picture. No, that is not true. He was waiting there a minute + or two before the photographer came. In the extreme background, + under the archway, you glimpse my study. +</pre> + <p> + The “new baby,” “Bay,” as they came to call her, + was another little daughter, born in June, a happy, healthy addition to + the household. In a letter written to Twichell we get a sweet summer + picture of this period, particularly of little sunny-haired, two-year-old + Susy. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There is nothing selfish about the Modoc. She is fascinated with + the new baby. The Modoc rips and tears around outdoors most of the + time, and consequently is as hard as a pineknot and as brown as an + Indian. She is bosom friend to all the chickens, ducks, turkeys, + and guinea-hens on the place. Yesterday, as she marched along the + winding path that leads up the hill through the red-clover beds to + the summer-house, there was a long procession of these fowls + stringing contentedly after her, led by a stately rooster, who can + look over the Modoc's head. The devotion of these vassals has been + purchased with daily largess of Indian meal, and so the Modoc, + attended by her body-guard, moves in state wherever she goes. +</pre> + <p> + There were days, mainly Sundays, when he did not work at all; peaceful + days of lying fallow, dreaming in shady places, drowsily watching little + Susy, or reading with Mrs. Clemens. Howells's “Foregone Conclusion” + was running in the Atlantic that year, and they delighted in it. Clemens + wrote the author: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I should think that this must be the daintiest, truest, most + admirable workmanship that was ever put on a story. The creatures + of God do not act out their natures more unerringly than yours do. + If your genuine stories can die I wonder by what right old Walter + Scott's artificialities shall continue to live. +</pre> + <p> + At other times he found comfort in the society of Theodore Crane. These + two were always fond of each other, and often read together the books in + which they were mutually interested. They had portable-hammock + arrangements, which they placed side by side on the lawn, and read and + discussed through summer afternoons. The 'Mutineers of the Bounty' was one + of the books they liked best, and there was a story of an Iceland farmer, + a human document, that had an unfading interest. Also there were certain + articles in old numbers of the Atlantic that they read and reread. 'Pepys' + Diary', 'Two Years Before the Mast', and a book on the Andes were reliable + favorites. Mark Twain read not so many books, but read a few books often. + Those named were among the literature he asked for each year of his return + to Quarry Farm. Without them, the farm and the summer would not be the + same. + </p> + <p> + Then there was 'Lecky's History of European Morals'; there were periods + when they read Lecky avidly and discussed it in original and unorthodox + ways. Mark Twain found an echo of his own philosophies in Lecky. He made + frequent marginal notes along the pages of the world's moral history—notes + not always quotable in the family circle. Mainly, however, they were + short, crisp interjections of assent or disapproval. In one place Lecky + refers to those who have undertaken to prove that all our morality is a + product of experience, holding that a desire to obtain happiness and to + avoid pain is the only possible motive to action; the reason, and the only + reason, why we should perform virtuous actions being “that on the + whole such a course will bring us the greatest amount of happiness.” + Clemens has indorsed these philosophies by writing on the margin, “Sound + and true.” It was the philosophy which he himself would always hold + (though, apparently, never live by), and in the end would embody a volume + of his own.—[What Is Man? Privately printed in 1906.]—In + another place Lecky, himself speaking, says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Fortunately we are all dependent for many of our pleasures on + others. Co-operation and organization are essential to our + happiness, and these are impossible without some restraint being + placed upon our appetites. Laws are made to secure this restraint, + and being sustained by rewards, and punishments they make it the + interest of the individual to regard that of the community. +</pre> + <p> + “Correct!” comments Clemens. “He has proceeded from + unreasoned selfishness to reasoned selfishness. All our acts, reasoned and + unreasoned, are selfish.” It was a conclusion he logically never + departed from; not the happiest one, it would seem, at first glance, but + one easier to deny than to disprove. + </p> + <p> + On the back of an old envelope Mark Twain set down his literary + declaration of this period. + </p> + <p> + “I like history, biography, travels, curious facts and strange + happenings, and science. And I detest novels, poetry, and theology.” + </p> + <p> + But of course the novels of Howells would be excepted; Lecky was not + theology, but the history of it; his taste for poetry would develop later, + though it would never become a fixed quantity, as was his devotion to + history and science. His interest in these amounted to a passion. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0100" id="link2H_4_0100"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XCV. AN “ATLANTIC” STORY AND A PLAY + </h2> + <p> + The reference to “Auntie Cord” in the letter to Dr. Brown + brings us to Mark Twain's first contribution to the Atlantic Monthly. + Howells in his Recollections of his Atlantic editorship, after referring + to certain Western contributors, says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Later came Mark Twain, originally of Missouri, but then + provisionally of Hartford, and now ultimately of the solar system, + not to say the universe. He came first with “A True Story,” one of + those noble pieces of humanity with which the South has atoned + chiefly, if not solely, through him for all its despite to the + negro. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens had long aspired to appear in the Atlantic, but such was his own + rating of his literature that he hardly hoped to qualify for its pages. + Twichell remembers his “mingled astonishment and triumph” when + he was invited to send something to the magazine. + </p> + <p> + He was obliged to “send something” once or twice before the + acceptance of “A True Story,” the narrative of Auntie Cord, + and even this acceptance brought with it the return of a fable which had + accompanied it, with the explanation that a fable like that would + disqualify the magazine for every denominational reader, though Howells + hastened to express his own joy in it, having been particularly touched by + the author's reference to Sisyphus and Atlas as ancestors of the + tumble-bug. The “True Story,” he said, with its “realest + king of black talk,” won him, and a few days later he wrote again: + “This little story delights me more and more. I wish you had about + forty of 'em.” + </p> + <p> + And so, modestly enough, as became him, for the story was of the simplest, + most unpretentious sort, Mark Twain entered into the school of the elect. + </p> + <p> + In his letter to Howells, accompanying the MS., the author said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I inclose also “A True Story,” which has no humor in it. You can + pay as lightly as you choose for that if you want it, for it is + rather out of my line. I have not altered the old colored woman's + story, except to begin it at the beginning, instead of the middle, + as she did—and traveled both ways. +</pre> + <p> + Howells in his Recollections tells of the business anxiety in the Atlantic + office in the effort to estimate the story's pecuniary value. Clemens and + Harte had raised literary rates enormously; the latter was reputed to have + received as much as five cents a word from affluent newspapers! But the + Atlantic was poor, and when sixty dollars was finally decided upon for the + three pages (about two and a half cents a word) the rate was regarded as + handsome—without precedent in Atlantic history. Howells adds that as + much as forty times this amount was sometimes offered to Mark Twain in + later years. Even in '74 he had received a much higher rate than that + offered by the Atlantic,—but no acceptance, then, or later, ever + made him happier, or seemed more richly rewarded. + </p> + <p> + “A True Story, Repeated Word for Word as I Heard It” was + precisely what it claimed to be.—[Atlantic Monthly for November, + 1874; also included in Sketches New and Old.]—Auntie Cord, the + Auntie Rachel of that tale, cook at Quarry Farm, was a Virginia negress + who had been twice sold as a slave, and was proud of the fact; + particularly proud that she had brought $1,000 on the block. All her + children had been sold away from her, but it was a long time ago, and now + at sixty she was fat and seemingly without care. She had told her story to + Mrs. Crane, who had more than once tried to persuade her to tell it to + Clemens; but Auntie Cord was reluctant. One evening, however, when the + family sat on the front veranda in the moonlight, looking down on the + picture city, as was their habit, Auntie Cord came around to say good + night, and Clemens engaged her in conversation. He led up to her story, + and almost before she knew it she was seated at his feet telling the + strange tale in almost the exact words in which it was set down by him + next morning. It gave Mark Twain a chance to exercise two of his chief + gifts—transcription and portrayal. He was always greater at these + things than at invention. Auntie Cord's story is a little masterpiece. + </p> + <p> + He wished to do more with Auntie Cord and her associates of the farm, for + they were extraordinarily interesting. Two other negroes on the place, + John Lewis and his wife (we shall hear notably of Lewis later), were not + always on terms of amity with Auntie Cord. They disagreed on religion, and + there were frequent battles in the kitchen. These depressed the mistress + of the house, but they gave only joy to Mark Twain. His Southern raising + had given him an understanding of their humors, their native emotions + which made these riots a spiritual gratification. He would slip around + among the shrubbery and listen to the noise and strife of battle, and hug + himself with delight. Sometimes they resorted to missiles—stones, + tinware—even dressed poultry which Auntie Cord was preparing for the + oven. Lewis was very black, Auntie Cord was a bright mulatto, Lewis's' + wife several shades lighter. Wherever the discussion began it promptly + shaded off toward the color-line and insult. Auntie Cord was a Methodist; + Lewis was a Dunkard. Auntie Cord was ignorant and dogmatic; Lewis could + read and was intelligent. Theology invariably led to personality, and + eventually to epithets, crockery, geology, and victuals. How the greatest + joker of the age did enjoy that summer warfare! + </p> + <p> + The fun was not all one-sided. An incident of that summer probably + furnished more enjoyment for the colored members of the household than it + did for Mark Twain. Lewis had some fowls, and among them was a + particularly pestiferous guinea-hen that used to get up at three in the + morning and go around making the kind of a noise that a guinea-hen must + like and is willing to get up early to hear. Mark Twain did not care for + it. He stood it as long as he could one morning, then crept softly from + the house to stop it. + </p> + <p> + It was a clear, bright night; locating the guinea-hen, he slipped up + stealthily with a stout stick. The bird was pouring out its heart, tearing + the moonlight to tatters. Stealing up close, Clemens made a vicious swing + with his bludgeon, but just then the guinea stepped forward a little, and + he missed. The stroke and his explosion frightened the fowl, and it + started to run. Clemens, with his mind now on the single purpose of + revenge, started after it. Around the trees, along the paths, up and down + the lawn, through gates and across the garden, out over the fields, they + raced, “pursuer and pursued.” The guinea nor longer sang, and + Clemens was presently too exhausted to swear. Hour after hour the silent, + deadly hunt continued, both stopping to rest at intervals; then up again + and away. It was like something in a dream. It was nearly breakfast-time + when he dragged himself into the house at last, and the guinea was resting + and panting under a currant-bush. Later in the day Clemens gave orders to + Lewis to “kill and eat that guinea-hen,” which Lewis did. + Clemens himself had then never eaten a guinea, but some years later, in + Paris, when the delicious breast of one of those fowls was served him, he + remembered and said: + </p> + <p> + “And to think, after chasing that creature all night, John Lewis got + to eat him instead of me.” + </p> + <p> + The interest in Tom and Huck, or the inspiration for their adventures, + gave out at last, or was superseded by a more immediate demand. As early + as May, Goodman, in San Francisco, had seen a play announced there, + presenting the character of Colonel Sellers, dramatized by Gilbert S. + Densmore and played by John T. Raymond. Goodman immediately wrote Clemens; + also a letter came from Warner, in Hartford, who had noticed in San + Francisco papers announcements of the play. Of course Clemens would take + action immediately; he telegraphed, enjoining the performance. Then began + a correspondence with the dramatist and actor. This in time resulted in an + amicable arrangement, by which the dramatist agreed to dispose of his + version to Clemens. Clemens did not wait for it to arrive, but began + immediately a version of his own. Just how much or how little of + Densmore's work found its way into the completed play, as presented by + Raymond later, cannot be known now. Howells conveys the impression that + Clemens had no hand in its authorship beyond the character of Sellers as + taken from the book. But in a letter still extant, which Clemens wrote to + Howells at the time, he says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I worked a month on my play, and launched it in New York last + Wednesday. I believe it will go. The newspapers have been + complimentary. It is simply a setting for one character, Colonel + Sellers. As a play I guess it will not bear critical assault in + force. +</pre> + <p> + The Warners are as charming as ever. They go shortly to the devil for a + year—that is, to Egypt. + </p> + <p> + Raymond, in a letter which he wrote to the Sun, November 3, 1874, declared + that “not one line” of Densmore's dramatization was used, + “except that which was taken bodily from The Gilded Age.” + During the newspaper discussion of the matter, Clemens himself prepared a + letter for the Hartford Post. This letter was suppressed, but it still + exists. In it he says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I entirely rewrote the play three separate and distinct times. I + had expected to use little of his [Densmore's] language and but + little of his plot. I do not think there are now twenty sentences + of Mr. Densmore's in the play, but I used so much of his plot that I + wrote and told him that I should pay him about as much more as I had + already paid him in case the play proved a success. I shall keep my + word. +</pre> + <p> + This letter, written while the matter was fresh in his mind, is + undoubtedly in accordance with the facts. That Densmore was fully + satisfied may be gathered from an acknowledgment, in which he says: + “Your letter reached me on the ad, with check. In this place permit + me to thank you for the very handsome manner in which you have acted in + this matter.” + </p> + <p> + Warner, meantime, realizing that the play was constructed almost entirely + of the Mark Twain chapters of the book, agreed that his collaborator + should undertake the work and financial responsibilities of the dramatic + venture and reap such rewards as might result. Various stories have been + told of this matter, most of them untrue. There was no bitterness between + the friends, no semblance of an estrangement of any sort. Warner very + generously and promptly admitted that he was not concerned with the play, + its authorship, or its profits, whatever the latter might amount to. + Moreover, Warner was going to Egypt very soon, and his labors and + responsibilities were doubly sufficient as they stood. + </p> + <p> + Clemens's estimate of the play as a dramatic composition was correct + enough, but the public liked it, and it was a financial success from the + start. He employed a representative to travel with Raymond, to assist in + the management and in the division of spoil. The agent had instructions to + mail a card every day, stating the amount of his share in the profits. + Howells once arrived in Hartford just when this postal tide of fortune was + at its flood: + </p> + <p> + One hundred and fifty dollars—two hundred dollars—three + hundred dollars were the gay figures which they bore, and which he + flaunted in the air, before he sat down at the table, or rose from it to + brandish, and then, flinging his napkin in the chair, walked up and down + to exult in. + </p> + <p> + Once, in later years, referring to the matter, Howells said “He was + never a man who cared anything about money except as a dream, and he + wanted more and more of it to fill out the spaces of this dream.” + Which was a true word. Mark Twain with money was like a child with a heap + of bright pebbles, ready to pile up more and still more, then presently to + throw them all away and begin gathering anew. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0101" id="link2H_4_0101"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XCVI. THE NEW HOME + </h2> + <p> + The Clemenses returned to Hartford to find their new house “ready,” + though still full of workmen, decorators, plumbers, and such other minions + of labor as make life miserable to those with ambitions for new or + improved habitations. The carpenters were still on the lower floor, but + the family moved in and camped about in rooms up-stairs that were more or + less free from the invader. They had stopped in New York ten days to buy + carpets and furnishings, and these began to arrive, with no particular + place to put them; but the owners were excited and happy with it all, for + it was the pleasant season of the year, and all the new features of the + house were fascinating, while the daily progress of the decorators + furnished a fresh surprise when they roamed through the rooms at evening. + Mrs. Clemens wrote home: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We are perfectly delighted with everything here and do so want you + all to see it. +</pre> + <p> + Her husband, as he was likely to do, picked up the letter and finished it: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Livy appoints me to finish this; but how can a headless man perform + an intelligent function? I have been bully-ragged all day by the + builder, by his foreman, by the architect, by the tapestry devil who + is to upholster the furniture, by the idiot who is putting down the + carpets, by the scoundrel who is setting up the billiard-table (and + has left the balls in New York), by the wildcat who is sodding the + ground and finishing the driveway (after the sun went down), by a + book agent, whose body is in the back yard and the coroner notified. + Just think of this thing going on the whole day long, and I a man + who loathes details with all his heart! But I haven't lost my + temper, and I've made Livy lie down most of the time; could anybody + make her lie down all the time? +</pre> + <p> + Warner wrote from Egypt expressing sympathy for their unfurnished state of + affairs, but added, “I would rather fit out three houses and fill + them with furniture than to fit out one 'dahabiyeh'.” Warner was at + that moment undertaking his charmingly remembered trip up the Nile. + </p> + <p> + The new home was not entirely done for a long time. One never knows when a + big house like that—or a little house, for that matters done. But + they were settled at last, with all their beautiful things in place; and + perhaps there have been richer homes, possibly more artistic ones, but + there has never been a more charming home, within or without, than that + one. + </p> + <p> + So many frequenters have tried to express the charm of that household. + None of them has quite succeeded, for it lay not so much in its + arrangement of rooms or their decorations or their outlook, though these + were all beautiful enough, but rather in the personality, the atmosphere; + and these are elusive things to convey in words. We can only see and feel + and recognize; we cannot translate them. Even Howells, with his subtle + touch, can present only an aspect here and there; an essence, as it were, + from a happy garden, rather than the fullness of its bloom. + </p> + <p> + As Mark Twain was unlike any other man that ever lived, so his house was + unlike any other house ever built. People asked him why he built the + kitchen toward the street, and he said: + </p> + <p> + “So the servants can see the circus go by without running out into + the front yard.” + </p> + <p> + But this was probably an after-thought. The kitchen end of the house + extended toward Farmington Avenue, but it was by no means unbeautiful. It + was a pleasing detail of the general scheme. The main entrance faced at + right angles with the street and opened to a spacious hall. In turn, the + hall opened to a parlor, where there was a grand piano, and to the + dining-room and library, and the library opened to a little conservatory, + semicircular in form, of a design invented by Harriet Beecher Stowe. Says + Howells: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The plants were set in the ground, and the flowering vines climbed + up the sides and overhung the roof above the silent spray of the + fountain companied by Callas and other waterloving lilies. There, + while we breakfasted, Patrick came in from the barn and sprinkled + the pretty bower, which poured out its responsive perfume in the + delicate accents of its varied blossoms. +</pre> + <p> + In the library was an old carved mantel which Clemens and his wife had + bought in Scotland, salvage from a dismantled castle, and across the top + of the fireplace a plate of brass with the motto, “The ornament of a + house is the friends that frequent it,” surely never more + appropriately inscribed. + </p> + <p> + There was the mahogany room, a large bedroom on the ground floor, and + upstairs were other spacious bedrooms and many baths, while everywhere + were Oriental rugs and draperies, and statuary and paintings. There was a + fireplace under a window, after the English pattern, so that in + winter-time one could at the same moment watch the blaze and the falling + snow. The library windows looked out over the valley with the little + stream in it, and through and across the tree-tops. At the top of the + house was what became Clemens's favorite retreat, the billiard-room, and + here and there were unexpected little balconies, which one could step out + upon for the view. + </p> + <p> + Below was a wide, covered veranda, the “ombra,” as they called + it, secluded from the public eye—a favorite family gathering-place + on pleasant days. + </p> + <p> + But a house might easily have all these things without being more than + usually attractive, and a house with a great deal less might have been as + full of charm; only it seemed just the proper setting for that particular + household, and undoubtedly it acquired the personality of its occupants. + </p> + <p> + Howells assures us that there never was another home like it, and we may + accept his statement. It was unique. It was the home of one of the most + unusual and unaccountable personalities in the world, yet was perfectly + and serenely ordered. Mark Twain was not responsible for this blissful + condition. He was its beacon-light; it was around Mrs. Clemens that its + affairs steadily revolved. + </p> + <p> + If in the four years and more of marriage Clemens had made advancement in + culture and capabilities, Olivia Clemens also had become something more + than the half-timid, inexperienced girl he had first known. In a way her + education had been no less notable than his. She had worked and studied, + and her half-year of travel and entertainment abroad had given her + opportunity for acquiring knowledge and confidence. Her vision of life had + vastly enlarged; her intellect had flowered; her grasp of practicalities + had become firm and sure. + </p> + <p> + In spite of her delicate physical structure, her continued uncertainty of + health, she capably undertook the management of their large new house, and + supervised its economies. Any one of her undertakings was sufficient for + one woman, but she compassed them all. No children had more careful + direction than hers. No husband had more devoted attendance and + companionship. No household was ever directed with a sweeter and gentler + grace, or with greater perfection of detail. When the great ones of the + world came to visit America's most picturesque literary figure she gave + welcome to them all, and filled her place at his side with such sweet and + capable dignity that those who came to pay their duties to him often + returned to pay even greater devotion to his companion. Says Howells: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + She was, in a way, the loveliest person I have ever seen—the + gentlest, the kindest, without a touch of weakness; she united + wonderful tact with wonderful truth; and Clemens not only accepted + her rule implicitly, but he rejoiced, he gloried in it. +</pre> + <p> + And once, in an interview with the writer of these chapters, Howells + declared: “She was not only a beautiful soul, but a woman of + singular intellectual power. I never knew any one quite like her.” + Then he added: “Words cannot express Mrs. Clemens—her + fineness, her delicate, her wonderful tact with a man who was in some + respects, and wished to be, the most outrageous creature that ever + breathed.” + </p> + <p> + Howells meant a good many things by that, no doubt: Clemens's violent + methods, for one thing, his sudden, savage impulses, which sometimes + worked injustice and hardship for others, though he was first to discover + the wrong and to repair it only too fully. Then, too, Howells may have + meant his boyish teasing tendency to disturb Mrs. Clemens's exquisite + sense of decorum. + </p> + <p> + Once I remember seeing him come into his drawing-room at Hartford in a + pair of white cowskin slippers with the hair out, and do a crippled + colored uncle, to the joy of all beholders. I must not say all, for I + remember also the dismay of Mrs. Clemens, and her low, despairing cry of + “Oh, Youth!” + </p> + <p> + He was continually doing such things as the “crippled colored uncle,”; + partly for the very joy of the performance, but partly, too, to disturb + her serenity, to incur her reproof, to shiver her a little—“shock” + would be too strong a word. And he liked to fancy her in a spirit and + attitude of belligerence, to present that fancy to those who knew the + measure of her gentle nature. Writing to Mrs. Howells of a picture of + herself in a group, he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + You look exactly as Mrs. Clemens does after she has said: “Indeed, I + do not wonder that you can frame no reply; for you know only too + well that your conduct admits of no excuse, palliation, or argument + —none!” + </pre> + <p> + Clemens would pretend to a visitor that she had been violently indignant + over some offense of his; perhaps he would say: + </p> + <p> + “Well I contradicted her just now, and the crockery will begin to + fly pretty soon.” + </p> + <p> + She could never quite get used to this pleasantry, and a faint glow would + steal over her face. He liked to produce that glow. Yet always his manner + toward her was tenderness itself. He regarded her as some dainty bit of + porcelain, and it was said that he was always following her about with a + chair. Their union has been regarded as ideal. That is Twichell's opinion + and Howells's. The latter sums up: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Marriages are what the parties to them alone really know them to be, + but from the outside I should say that this marriage was one of the + most perfect. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0102" id="link2H_4_0102"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XCVII. THE WALK TO BOSTON + </h2> + <p> + The new home became more beautiful to them as things found their places, + as the year deepened; and the wonder of autumn foliage lit up their + landscape. Sitting on one of the little upper balconies Mrs. Clemens + wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The atmosphere is very hazy, and it makes the autumn tints even more + soft and beautiful than usual. Mr. Twichell came for Mr. Clemens to + go walking with him; they returned at dinner-time, heavily laden + with autumn leaves. +</pre> + <p> + And as usual Clemens, finding the letter unfinished, took up the story. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Twichell came up here with me to luncheon after services, and I went + back home with him and took Susy along in her little carriage. We + have just got home again, middle of afternoon, and Livy has gone to + rest and left the west balcony to me. There is a shining and most + marvelous miracle of cloud-effects mirrored in the brook; a picture + which began with perfection, and has momently surpassed it ever + since, until at last it is almost unendurably beautiful.... + + There is a cloud-picture in the stream now whose hues are as + manifold as those in an opal and as delicate as the tintings of a + sea-shell. But now a muskrat is swimming through it and + obliterating it with the turmoil of wavelets he casts abroad from + his shoulders. + + The customary Sunday assemblage of strangers is gathered together in + the grounds discussing the house. +</pre> + <p> + Twichell and Clemens took a good many walks these days; long walks, for + Twichell was an athlete and Clemens had not then outgrown the Nevada habit + of pedestrian wandering. Talcott's Tower, a wooden structure about five + miles from Hartford, was one of their favorite objective points; and often + they walked out and back, talking so continuously, and so absorbed in the + themes of their discussions, that time and distance slipped away almost + unnoticed. How many things they talked of in those long walks! They + discussed philosophies and religions and creeds, and all the range of + human possibility and shortcoming, and all the phases of literature and + history and politics. Unorthodox discussions they were, illuminating, + marvelously enchanting, and vanished now forever. Sometimes they took the + train as far as Bloomfield, a little station on the way, and walked the + rest of the distance, or they took the train from Bloomfield home. It + seems a strange association, perhaps, the fellowship of that violent + dissenter with that fervent soul dedicated to church and creed, but the + root of their friendship lay in the frankness with which each man + delivered his dogmas and respected those of his companion. + </p> + <p> + It was during one of their walks to the tower that they planned a far more + extraordinary undertaking—nothing less, in fact, than a walk from + Hartford to Boston. This was early in November. They did not delay the + matter, for the weather was getting too uncertain. + </p> + <p> + Clemens wrote Redpath: + </p> + <p> + DEAR REDPATH,—Rev. J. H. Twichell and I expect to start at 8 o'clock + Thursday morning to walk to Boston in twenty four hours—or more. We + shall telegraph Young's Hotel for rooms Saturday night, in order to allow + for a low average of pedestrianism. + </p> + <p> + It was half past eight on Thursday morning, November 12, 1874, that they + left Twichell's house in a carriage, drove to the East Hartford bridge, + and there took to the road, Twichell carrying a little bag and Clemens a + basket of lunch. + </p> + <p> + The papers had got hold of it by this time, and were watching the result. + They did well enough that first day, following the old Boston stage road, + arriving at Westford about seven o'clock in the evening, twenty-eight + miles from the starting-point. There was no real hotel at Westford, only a + sort of tavern, but it afforded the luxury of rest. “Also,” + says Twichell, in a memoranda of the trip, “a sublimely profane + hostler whom you couldn't jostle with any sort of mild remark without + bringing down upon yourself a perfect avalanche of oaths.” + </p> + <p> + This was a joy to Clemens, who sat behind the stove, rubbing his lame + knees and fairly reveling in Twichell's discomfiture in his efforts to + divert the hostler's blasphemy. There was also a mellow inebriate there + who recommended kerosene for Clemens's lameness, and offered as testimony + the fact that he himself had frequently used it for stiffness in his + joints after lying out all night in cold weather, drunk: altogether it was + a notable evening. + </p> + <p> + Westford was about as far as they continued the journey afoot. Clemens was + exceedingly lame next morning, and had had a rather bad night; but he + swore and limped along six miles farther, to North Ashford, then gave it + up. They drove from North Ashford to the railway, where Clemens + telegraphed Redpath and Howells of their approach. To Redpath: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We have made thirty-five miles in less than five days. This + demonstrates that the thing can be done. Shall now finish by rail. + Did you have any bets on us? +</pre> + <p> + To Howells: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Arrive by rail at seven o'clock, the first of a series of grand + annual pedestrian tours from Hartford to Boston to be performed by + us. The next will take place next year. +</pre> + <p> + Redpath read his despatch to a lecture audience, with effect. Howells made + immediate preparation for receiving two way-worn, hungry men. He + telegraphed to Young's Hotel: “You and Twichell come right up to 37 + Concord Avenue, Cambridge, near observatory. Party waiting for you.” + </p> + <p> + They got to Howells's about nine o'clock, and the refreshments were + waiting. Miss Longfellow was there, Rose Hawthorne, John Fiske, Larkin G. + Mead, the sculptor, and others of their kind. Howells tells in his book + how Clemens, with Twichell, “suddenly stormed in,” and + immediately began to eat and drink: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I can see him now as he stood up in the midst of our friends, with + his head thrown back, and in his hand a dish of those escalloped + oysters without which no party in Cambridge was really a party, + exulting in the tale of his adventure, which had abounded in the + most original characters and amusing incidents at every mile of + their progress. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens gave a dinner, next night, to Howells, Aldrich, Osgood, and the + rest. The papers were full of jokes concerning the Boston expedition; some + even had illustrations, and it was all amusing enough at the time. + </p> + <p> + Next morning, sitting in the writing-room of Young's Hotel, he wrote a + curious letter to Mrs. Clemens, though intended as much for Howells and + Aldrich as for her. It was dated sixty-one years ahead, and was a sort of + Looking Backwards, though that notable book had not yet been written. It + presupposed a monarchy in which the name of Boston has been changed to + “Limerick,” and Hartford to “Dublin.” In it, + Twichell has become the “Archbishop of Dublin,” Howells + “Duke of Cambridge,” Aldrich “Marquis of Ponkapog,” + Clemens the “Earl of Hartford.” It was too whimsical and + delightful a fancy to be forgotten.—[This remarkable and amusing + document will be found under Appendix M, at the end of last volume.] + </p> + <p> + A long time afterward, thirty-four year, he came across this letter. He + said: + </p> + <p> + “It seems curious now that I should have been dreaming dreams of a + future monarchy and never suspect that the monarchy was already present + and the Republic a thing of the past.” + </p> + <p> + What he meant, was the political succession that had fostered those + commercial trusts which, in turn, had established party dominion. + </p> + <p> + To Howells, on his return, Clemens wrote his acknowledgments, and added: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mrs. Clemens gets upon the verge of swearing, and goes tearing + around in an unseemly fury when I enlarge upon the delightful time + we had in Boston, and she not there to have her share. I have tried + hard to reproduce Mrs. Howells to her, and have probably not made a + shining success of it. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0103" id="link2H_4_0103"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XCVIII. “OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI” + </h2> + <p> + Howells had been urging Clemens to do something more for the Atlantic, + specifically something for the January number. Clemens cudgeled his + brains, but finally declared he must give it up: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mrs. Clemens has diligently persecuted me day by day with urgings to + go to work and do that something, but it's no use. I find I can't. + We are in such a state of worry and endless confusion that my head + won't go. +</pre> + <p> + Two hours later he sent another hasty line: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I take back the remark that I can't write for the January number, + for Twichell and I have had a long walk in the woods, and I got to + telling him about old Mississippi days of steam-boating glory and + grandeur as I saw them (during four years) from the pilot-house. He + said, “What a virgin subject to hurl into a magazine!” I hadn't + thought of that before. Would you like a series of papers to run + through three months or six or nine—or about four months, say? +</pre> + <p> + Howells welcomed this offer as an echo of his own thought. He had come + from a piloting family himself, and knew the interest that Mark Twain + could put into such a series. + </p> + <p> + Acting promptly under the new inspiration, Clemens forthwith sent the + first chapter of that monumental, that absolutely unique, series of papers + on Mississippi River life, which to-day constitutes one of his chief + claims to immortality. + </p> + <p> + His first number was in the nature of an experiment. Perhaps, after all, + the idea would not suit the Atlantic readers. + </p> + <p> + “Cut it, scarify it, reject it, handle it with entire freedom,” + he wrote, and awaited the result. + </p> + <p> + The “result” was that Howells expressed his delight: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The piece about the Mississippi is capital. It almost made the + water in our ice-pitcher muddy as I read it. I don't think I shall + meddle much with it, even in the way of suggestion. The sketch of + the low-lived little town was so good that I could have wished there + was more of it. I want the sketches, if you can make them, every + month. +</pre> + <p> + Mark Twain was now really interested in this new literary venture. He was + fairly saturated with memories. He was writing on the theme that lay + nearest to his heart. Within ten days he reported that he had finished + three of the papers, and had begun the fourth. + </p> + <p> + And yet I have spoken of nothing but piloting as a science so far, and I + doubt if I ever get beyond that portion of my subject. And I don't care + to. Any Muggins can write about old days on the Mississippi of five + hundred different kinds, but I am the only man alive that can scribble + about the piloting of that day, and no man has ever tried to scribble + about it yet. Its newness pleases me all the time, and it is about the + only new subject I know of. + </p> + <p> + He became so enthusiastic presently that he wanted to take Howells with + him on a trip down the Mississippi, with their wives for company, to go + over the old ground again and obtain added material enough for a book. + Howells was willing enough—agreed to go, in fact—but found it + hard to get away. He began to temporize and finally backed out. Clemens + tried to inveigle Osgood into the trip, but without success; also John + Hay, but Hay had a new baby at his house just then—“three days + old, and with a voice beyond price,” he said, offering it as an + excuse for non-acceptance. So the plan for revisiting the river and the + conclusion of the book were held in abeyance for nearly seven years. + </p> + <p> + Those early piloting chapters, as they appeared in the Atlantic, + constituted Mark Twain's best literary exhibit up to that time. In some + respects they are his best literature of any time. As pictures of an + intensely interesting phase of life, they are so convincing, so real, and + at the same time of such extraordinary charm and interest, that if the + English language should survive a thousand years, or ten times as long, + they would be as fresh and vivid at the end of that period as the day they + were penned. In them the atmosphere of, the river and its environment—its + pictures, its thousand aspects of life—are reproduced with what is + no less than literary necromancy. Not only does he make you smell the + river you can fairly hear it breathe. On the appearance of the first + number John Hay wrote: + </p> + <p> + “It is perfect; no more nor less. I don't see how you do it,” + and added, “you know what my opinion is of time not spent with you.” + </p> + <p> + Howells wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + You are doing the science of piloting splendidly. Every word + interesting, and don't you drop the series till you've got every bit + of anecdote and reminiscence into it. +</pre> + <p> + He let Clemens write the articles to suit himself. Once he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + If I might put in my jaw at this point I should say, stick to actual + fact and character in the thing and give things in detail. All that + belongs to the old river life is novel, and is now mostly + historical. Don't write at any supposed Atlantic audience, but yarn + it off as if into my sympathetic ear. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens replied that he had no dread of the Atlantic audience; he declared + it was the only audience that did not require a humorist to “paint + himself striped and stand on his head to amuse it.” + </p> + <p> + The “Old Times” papers ran through seven numbers of the + Atlantic. They were reprinted everywhere by the newspapers, who in that + day had little respect for magazine copyrights, and were promptly pirated + in book form in Canada. They added vastly to Mark Twain's literary + capital, though Howells informs us that the Atlantic circulation did not + thrive proportionately, for the reason that the newspapers gave the + articles to their readers from advanced sheets of the magazine, even + before the latter could be placed on sale. It so happened that in the + January Atlantic, which contained the first of the Mississippi papers, + there appeared Robert Dale Owen's article on “Spiritualism,” + which brought such humility both to author and publisher because of the + exposure of the medium Katie King, which came along while the magazine was + in press. Clemens has written this marginal note on the opening page of + the copy at Quarry Farm: + </p> + <p> + While this number of the Atlantic was being printed the Katie King + manifestations were discovered to be the cheapest, wretchedest shams and + frauds, and were exposed in the newspapers. The awful humiliation of it + unseated Robert Dale Owen's reason, and he died in the madhouse. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0104" id="link2H_4_0104"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XCIX. A TYPEWRITER, AND A JOKE ON ALDRICH + </h2> + <p> + It was during the trip to Boston with Twichell that Mark Twain saw for the + first time what was then—a brand-new invention, a typewriter; or it + may have been during a subsequent visit, a week or two later. At all + events, he had the machine and was practising on it December 9, 1874, for + he wrote two letters on it that day, one to Howells and the other to Orion + Clemens. In the latter he says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I am trying to get the hang of this new-fangled writing-machine, but + am not making a shining success of it. However, this is the first + attempt I ever have made, and yet I perceive that I shall soon + easily acquire a fine facility in its use. I saw the thing in + Boston the other day and was greatly taken with it. +</pre> + <p> + He goes on to explain the new wonder, and on the whole his first attempt + is a very creditable performance. With his usual enthusiasm over an + innovation, he believes it is going to be a great help to him, and + proclaims its advantages. + </p> + <p> + This is the letter to Howells, with the errors preserved: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + You needn't answer this; I am only practicing to get three; anothe + slip-up there; only practici?ng ti get the hang of the thing. I + notice I miss fire & get in a good many unnecessary letters & + punctuation marks. I am simply using you for a target to bang at. + Blame my cats, but this thing requires genius in order to work it + just right. +</pre> + <p> + In an article written long after he tells how he was with Nasby when he + first saw the machine in Boston through a window, and how they went in to + see it perform. In the same article he states that he was the first person + in the world to apply the type-machine to literature, and that he thinks + the story of Tom Sawyer was the first type-copied manuscript.—[Tom + Sawyer was not then complete, and had been laid aside. The first + type-copied manuscript was probably early chapters of the Mississippi + story, two discarded typewritten pages of which still exist.] + </p> + <p> + The new enthusiasm ran its course and died. Three months later, when the + Remington makers wrote him for a recommendation of the machine, he replied + that he had entirely stopped using it. The typewriter was not perfect in + those days, and the keys did not always respond readily. He declared it + was ruining his morals—that it made him “want to swear.” + He offered it to Howells because, he said, Howells had no morals anyway. + Howells hesitated, so Clemens traded the machine to Bliss for a + side-saddle. But perhaps Bliss also became afraid of its influence, for in + due time he brought it back. Howells, again tempted, hesitated, and this + time was lost. What eventually became of the machine is not history. + </p> + <p> + One of those, happy Atlantic dinners which Howells tells of came about the + end of that year. It was at the Parker House, and Emerson was there; and + Aldrich, and the rest of that group. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you dare to refuse the invitation,” said Howells, and + naturally Clemens didn't, and wrote back: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I want you to ask Mrs. Howells to let you stay all night at the + Parker House and tell lies and have an improving time, and take + breakfast with me in the morning. I will have a good room for you + and a fire. Can't you tell her it always makes you sick to go home + late at night or something like that? That sort of thing arouses + Mrs. Clemens's sympathies easily. +</pre> + <p> + Two memories of that old dinner remain to-day. Aldrich and Howells were + not satisfied with the kind of neckties that Mark Twain wore (the + old-fashioned black “string” tie, a Western survival), so they + made him a present of two cravats when he set out on his return for + Hartford. Next day he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + You and Aldrich have made one woman deeply and sincerely grateful + —Mrs. Clemens. For months—I may even say years—she has shown an + unaccountable animosity toward my necktie, even getting up in the + night to take it with the tongs and blackguard it, sometimes also + getting so far as to threaten it. + + When I said you and Aldrich had given me two new neckties, and that + they were in a paper in my overcoat pocket, she was in a fever of + happiness until she found I was going to frame them; then all the + venom in her nature gathered itself together; insomuch that I, being + near to a door, went without, perceiving danger. +</pre> + <p> + It is recorded that eventually he wore the neckties, and returned no more + to the earlier mode. + </p> + <p> + Another memory of that dinner is linked to a demand that Aldrich made of + Clemens that night, for his photograph. Clemens, returning to Hartford, + put up fifty-two different specimens in as many envelopes, with the idea + of sending one a week for a year. Then he concluded that this was too slow + a process, and for a week sent one every morning to “His Grace of + Ponkapog.” + </p> + <p> + Aldrich stood it for a few days, then protested. “The police,” + he said, “are in the habit of swooping down upon a publication of + that sort.” + </p> + <p> + On New-Year's no less than twenty pictures came at once—photographs + and prints of Mark Twain, his house, his family, his various belongings. + Aldrich sent a warning then that the perpetrator of this outrage was known + to the police as Mark Twain, alias “The Jumping Frog,” a + well-known California desperado, who would be speedily arrested and + brought to Ponkapog to face his victim. This letter was signed “T. + Bayleigh, Chief of Police,” and on the outside of the envelope there + was a statement that it would be useless for that person to send any more + mail-matter, as the post-office had been blown up. The jolly farce closed + there. It was the sort of thing that both men enjoyed. + </p> + <p> + Aldrich was writing a story at this time which contained some Western + mining incident and environment. He sent the manuscript to Clemens for + “expert” consideration and advice. Clemens wrote him at great + length and in careful detail. He was fond of Aldrich, regarding him as one + of the most brilliant of men. Once, to Robert Louis Stevenson, he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Aldrich has never had his peer for prompt and pithy and witty and + humorous sayings. None has equaled him, certainly none has + surpassed him, in the felicity of phrasing with which he clothed + these children of his fancy. Aldrich is always brilliant; he can't + help it; he is a fire-opal set round with rose diamonds; when he is + not speaking you know that his dainty fancies are twinkling and + glimmering around in him; when he speaks the diamonds flash. Yes, + he is always brilliant, he will always be brilliant; he will be + brilliant in hell-you will see.” + </pre> + <p> + Stevenson, smiling a chuckly smile, said, “I hope not.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you will, and he will dim even those ruddy fires and look + like a transfigured Adonis backed against a pink sunset.”—[North + American Review, September, 1906.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0105" id="link2H_4_0105"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + C. RAYMOND, MENTAL TELEGRAPHY, ETC. + </h2> + <p> + The Sellers play was given in Hartford, in January (1875), to as many + people as could crowd into the Opera House. Raymond had reached the + perfection of his art by that time, and the townsmen of Mark Twain saw the + play and the actor at their best. Kate Field played the part of Laura + Hawkins, and there was a Hartford girl in the company; also a Hartford + young man, who would one day be about as well known to playgoers as any + playwright or actor that America has produced. His name was William + Gillette, and it was largely due to Mark Twain that the author of Secret + Service and of the dramatic “Sherlock Holmes” got a fair + public start. Clemens and his wife loaned Gillette the three thousand + dollars which tided him through his period of dramatic education. Their + faith in his ability was justified. + </p> + <p> + Hartford would naturally be enthusiastic on a first “Sellers-Raymond” + night. At the end of the fourth act there was an urgent demand for the + author of the play, who was supposed to be present. He was not there in + person, but had sent a letter, which Raymond read: + </p> + <p> + MY DEAR RAYMOND,—I am aware that you are going to be welcomed to our + town by great audiences on both nights of your stay there, and I beg to + add my hearty welcome also, through this note. I cannot come to the + theater on either evening, Raymond, because there is something so touching + about your acting that I can't stand it. + </p> + <p> + (I do not mention a couple of colds in my head, because I hardly mind them + as much as I would the erysipelas, but between you and me I would prefer + it if they were rights and lefts.) + </p> + <p> + And then there is another thing. I have always taken a pride in earning my + living in outside places and spending it in Hartford; I have said that no + good citizen would live on his own people, but go forth and make it sultry + for other communities and fetch home the result; and now at this late day + I find myself in the crushed and bleeding position of fattening myself + upon the spoils of my brethren! Can I support such grief as this? (This is + literary emotion, you understand. Take the money at the door just the + same.) + </p> + <p> + Once more I welcome you to Hartford, Raymond, but as for me let me stay at + home and blush. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yours truly, MARK. +</pre> + <p> + The play was equally successful wherever it went. It made what in that day + was regarded as a fortune. One hundred thousand dollars is hardly too + large an estimate of the amount divided between author and actor. Raymond + was a great actor in that part, as he interpreted it, though he did not + interpret it fully, or always in its best way. The finer side, the subtle, + tender side of Colonel Sellers, he was likely to overlook. Yet, with a + natural human self-estimate, Raymond believed he had created a much + greater part than Mark Twain had written. Doubtless from the point of view + of a number of people this was so, though the idea, was naturally + obnoxious to Clemens. In course of time their personal relations ceased. + </p> + <p> + Clemens that winter gave another benefit for Father Hawley. In reply to an + invitation to appear in behalf of the poor, he wrote that he had quit the + lecture field, and would not return to the platform unless driven there by + lack of bread. But he added: + </p> + <p> + By the spirit of that remark I am debarred from delivering this proposed + lecture, and so I fall back upon the letter of it, and emerge upon the + platform for this last and final time because I am confronted by a lack of + bread-among Father Hawley's flock. + </p> + <p> + He made an introductory speech at an old-fashioned spelling-bee, given at + the Asylum Hill Church; a breezy, charming talk of which the following is + a sample: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I don't see any use in spelling a word right—and never did. I mean + I don't see any use in having a uniform and arbitrary way of + spelling words. We might as well make all clothes alike and cook + all dishes alike. Sameness is tiresome; variety is pleasing. I + have a correspondent whose letters are always a refreshment to me; + there is such a breezy, unfettered originality about his + orthography. He always spells “kow” with a large “K.” Now that is + just as good as to spell it with a small one. It is better. It + gives the imagination a broader field, a wider scope. It suggests + to the mind a grand, vague, impressive new kind of a cow. + + He took part in the contest, and in spite of his early reputation, + was spelled down on the word “chaldron,” which he spelled + “cauldron,” as he had been taught, while the dictionary used as + authority gave that form as second choice. +</pre> + <p> + Another time that winter, Clemens read before the Monday Evening Club a + paper on “Universal Suffrage,” which is still remembered by + the surviving members of that time. A paragraph or two will convey its + purport: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Our marvelous latter-day statesmanship has invented universal + suffrage. That is the finest feather in our cap. All that we + require of a voter is that he shall be forked, wear pantaloons + instead of petticoats, and bear a more or less humorous resemblance + to the reported image of God. He need not know anything whatever; + he may be wholly useless and a cumberer of the earth; he may even be + known to be a consummate scoundrel. No matter. While he can steer + clear of the penitentiary his vote is as weighty as the vote of a + president, a bishop, a college professor, a merchant prince. We + brag of our universal, unrestricted suffrage; but we are shams after + all, for we restrict when we come to the women. +</pre> + <p> + The Monday Evening Club was an organization which included the best minds + of Hartford. Dr. Horace Bushnell, Prof. Calvin E. Stowe, and J. Hammond + Trumbull founded it back in the sixties, and it included such men as Rev. + Dr. Parker, Rev. Dr. Burton, Charles H. Clark, of the Courant, Warner, and + Twichell, with others of their kind. Clemens had been elected after his + first sojourn in England (February, 1873), and had then read a paper on + the “License of the Press.” The club met alternate Mondays, + from October to May. There was one paper for each evening, and, after the + usual fashion of such clubs, the reading was followed by discussion. + Members of that time agree that Mark Twain's association with the club had + a tendency to give it a life, or at least an exhilaration, which it had + not previously known. His papers were serious in their purpose he always + preferred to be serious—but they evidenced the magic gift which made + whatever he touched turn to literary jewelry. + </p> + <p> + Psychic theories and phenomena always attracted Mark Twain. In + thought-transference, especially, he had a frank interest—an + interest awakened and kept alive by certain phenomena—psychic + manifestations we call them now. In his association with Mrs. Clemens it + not infrequently happened that one spoke the other's thought, or perhaps a + long-procrastinated letter to a friend would bring an answer as quickly as + mailed; but these are things familiar to us all. A more startling example + of thought-communication developed at the time of which we are writing, an + example which raised to a fever-point whatever interest he may have had in + the subject before. (He was always having these vehement interests—rages + we may call them, for it would be inadequate to speak of them as fads, + inasmuch as they tended in the direction of human enlightenment, or + progress, or reform.) + </p> + <p> + Clemens one morning was lying in bed when, as he says, “suddenly a + red-hot new idea came whistling down into my camp.” The idea was + that the time was ripe for a book that would tell the story of the + Comstock-of the Nevada silver mines. It seemed to him that the person best + qualified for the work was his old friend William Wright—Dan de + Quille. He had not heard from Dan, or of him, for a long time, but decided + to write and urge him to take up the idea. He prepared the letter, going + fully into the details of his plan, as was natural for him to do, then + laid it aside until he could see Bliss and secure his approval of the + scheme from a publishing standpoint. Just a week later, it was the 9th of + March, a letter came—a thick letter bearing a Nevada postmark, and + addressed in a handwriting which he presently recognized as De Quille's. + To a visitor who was present he said: + </p> + <p> + “Now I will do a miracle. I will tell you everything this letter + contains—date, signature, and all without breaking the seal.” + </p> + <p> + He stated what he believed was in the letter. Then he opened it and showed + that he had correctly given its contents, which were the same in all + essential details as those of his own letter, not yet mailed. + </p> + <p> + In an article on “Mental Telegraphy” (he invented the name) he + relates this instance, with others, and in 'Following the Equator' and + elsewhere he records other such happenings. It was one of the “mysteries” + in which he never lost interest, though his concern in it in time became a + passive one. + </p> + <p> + The result of the De Quille manifestation, however, he has not recorded. + Clemens immediately wrote, urging Dan to come to Hartford for an extended + visit. De Quille came, and put in a happy spring in his old comrade's + luxurious home, writing 'The Big Bonanza', which Bliss successfully + published a year later. + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain was continually inviting old friends to share his success with + him. Any comrade of former days found welcome in his home as often as he + would come, and for as long as he would stay. Clemens dropped his own + affairs to advise in their undertakings; and if their undertakings were + literary he found them a publisher. He did this for Joaquin Miller and for + Bret Harte, and he was always urging Goodman to make his house a home. + </p> + <p> + The Beecher-Tilton trial was the sensation of the spring of 1875, and + Clemens, in common with many others, was greatly worked up over it. The + printed testimony had left him decidedly in doubt as to Beecher's + innocence, though his blame would seem to have been less for the possible + offense than because of the great leader's attitude in the matter. To + Twichell he said: + </p> + <p> + “His quibbling was fatal. Innocent or guilty, he should have made an + unqualified statement in the beginning.” + </p> + <p> + Together they attended one of the sessions, on a day when Beecher himself + was on the witness-stand. The tension was very great; the excitement was + painful. Twichell thought that Beecher appeared well under the stress of + examination and was deeply sorry for him; Clemens was far from convinced. + </p> + <p> + The feeling was especially strong in Hartford, where Henry Ward Beecher's + relatives were prominent, and animosities grew out of it. They are all + forgotten now; most of those who cherished bitterness are dead. Any + feeling that Clemens had in the matter lasted but a little while. Howells + tells us that when he met him some months after the trial ended, and was + tempted to mention it, Clemens discouraged any discussion of the event. + Says Howells: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He would only say the man had suffered enough; as if the man had + expiated his wrong, and he was not going to do anything to renew his + penalty. I found that very curious, very delicate. His continued + blame could not come to the sufferer's knowledge, but he felt it his + duty to forbear it. +</pre> + <p> + It was one hundred years, that 19th of April, since the battles of + Lexington and Concord, and there was to be a great celebration. The + Howellses had visited Hartford in March, and the Clemenses were invited to + Cambridge for the celebration. Only Clemens could go, which in the event + proved a good thing perhaps; for when Clemens and Howells set out for + Concord they did not go over to Boston to take the train, but decided to + wait for it at Cambridge. Apparently it did not occur to them that the + train would be jammed the moment the doors were opened at the Boston + station; but when it came along they saw how hopeless was their chance. + They had special invitations and passage from Boston, but these were only + mockeries now. It yeas cold and chilly, and they forlornly set out in + search of some sort of a conveyance. They tramped around in the mud and + raw wind, but vehicles were either filled or engaged, and drivers and + occupants were inclined to jeer at them. Clemens was taken with an acute + attack of indigestion, which made him rather dismal and savage. Their + effort finally ended with his trying to run down a tally-ho which was + empty inside and had a party of Harvard students riding atop. The + students, who did not recognize their would-be fare, enjoyed the race. + They encouraged their pursuer, and perhaps their driver, with merriment + and cheers. Clemens was handicapped by having to run in the slippery mud, + and soon “dropped by the wayside.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad,” says Howells, “I cannot recall what he said + when he came back to me.” + </p> + <p> + They hung about a little longer, then dragged themselves home, slipped + into the house, and built up a fine, cheerful fire on the hearth. They + proposed to practise a deception on Mrs. Howells by pretending they had + been to Concord and returned. But it was no use. Their statements were + flimsy, and guilt was plainly written on their faces. Howells recalls this + incident delightfully, and expresses the belief that the humor of the + situation was finally a greater pleasure to Clemens than the actual visit + to Concord would have been. + </p> + <p> + Twichell did not have any such trouble in attending the celebration. He + had adventures (he was always having adventures), but they were of a more + successful kind. Clemens heard the tale of them when he returned to + Hartford. He wrote it to Howells: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Joe Twichell preached morning and evening here last Sunday; took + midnight train for Boston; got an early breakfast and started by + rail at 7.30 A.M. for Concord; swelled around there until 1 P.M., + seeing everything; then traveled on top of a train to Lexington; saw + everything there; traveled on top of a train to Boston (with + hundreds in company), deluged with dust, smoke, and cinders; yelled + and hurrahed all the way like a school-boy; lay flat down, to dodge + numerous bridges, and sailed into the depot howling with excitement + and as black as a chimneysweep; got to Young's Hotel at 7 P.M.; sat + down in the reading-room and immediately fell asleep; was promptly + awakened by a porter, who supposed he was drunk; wandered around an + hour and a half; then took 9 P.M. train, sat down in a smoking-car, + and remembered nothing more until awakened by conductor as the train + came into Hartford at 1.30 A.M. Thinks he had simply a glorious + time, and wouldn't have missed the Centennial for the world. He + would have run out to see us a moment at Cambridge but he was too + dirty. I wouldn't have wanted him there; his appalling energy would + have been an insufferable reproach to mild adventurers like you and + me. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0106" id="link2H_4_0106"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CI. CONCLUDING “TOM SAWYER”—MARK TWAIN's “EDITORS” + </h2> + <p> + Meantime the “inspiration tank,” as Clemens sometimes called + it, had filled up again. He had received from somewhere new afflatus for + the story of Tom and Huck, and was working on it steadily. The family + remained in Hartford, and early in July, under full head of steam, he + brought the story to a close. On the 5th he wrote Howells: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have finished the story and didn't take the chap beyond boyhood. + I believe it would be fatal to do it in any shape but + autobiographically, like Gil Blas. I perhaps made a mistake in not + writing it in the first person. If I went on now, and took him into + manhood, he would just lie, like all the one-horse men in + literature, and the reader would conceive a hearty contempt for him. + It is not a boy's book at all. It will only be read by adults. It + is only written for adults. +</pre> + <p> + He would like to see the story in the Atlantic, he said, but doubted the + wisdom of serialization. + </p> + <p> + “By and by I shall take a boy of twelve and run him through life (in + the first person), but not Tom Sawyer, he would not make a good character + for it.” From which we get the first glimpse of Huck's later + adventures. + </p> + <p> + Of course he wanted Howells to look at the story. It was a tremendous + favor to ask, he said, and added, “But I know of no other person + whose judgment I could venture to take, fully and entirely. Don't hesitate + to say no, for I know how your time is taxed, and I would have honest need + to blush if you said yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Send on your MS.,” wrote Howells. “You've no idea what + I may ask you to do for me some day.” + </p> + <p> + But Clemens, conscience-stricken, “blushed and weakened,” as + he said. When Howells insisted, he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + But I will gladly send it to you if you will do as follows: + dramatize it, if you perceive that you can, and take, for your + remuneration, half of the first $6,000 which I receive for its + representation on the stage. You could alter the plot entirely if + you chose. I could help in the work most cheerfully after you had + arranged the plot. I have my eye upon two young girls who can play + Tom and Huck. +</pre> + <p> + Howells in his reply urged Clemens to do the playwriting himself. He could + never find time, he said, and he doubted whether he could enter into the + spirit of another man's story. Clemens did begin a dramatization then or a + little later, but it was not completed. Mrs. Clemens, to whom he had read + the story as it proceeded, was as anxious as her husband for Howells's + opinion, for it was the first extended piece of fiction Mark Twain had + undertaken alone. He carried the manuscript over to Boston himself, and + whatever their doubts may have been, Howells's subsequent letter set them + at rest. He wrote that he had sat up till one in the morning to get to the + end of it, simply because it was impossible to leave off. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It is altogether the best boy story I ever read. It will be an immense + success, but I think you ought to treat it explicitly as a boy's story; + grown-ups will enjoy it just as much if you do, and if you should put it + forth as a story of boys' character from the grown-up point of view you + give the wrong key to it. + </pre> + <p> + Viewed in the light of later events, there has never been any better + literary opinion than that—none that has been more fully justified. + </p> + <p> + Clemens was delighted. He wrote concerning a point here and there, one + inquiry referring to the use of a certain strong word. Howells's reply + left no doubt: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I'd have that swearing out in an instant. I suppose I didn't notice + it because the location was so familiar to my Western sense, and so + exactly the thing Huck would say, but it won't do for children. +</pre> + <p> + It was in the last chapter, where Huck relates to Tom the sorrows of + reform and tells how they comb him “all to thunder.” In the + original, “They comb me all to hell,” says Huck; which + statement, one must agree, is more effective, more the thing Huck would be + likely to say. + </p> + <p> + Clemens's acknowledgment of the correction was characteristic: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mrs. Clemens received the mail this morning, and the next minute she + lit into the study with danger in her eye and this demand on her + tongue, “Where is the profanity Mr. Howells speaks of?” Then I had + to miserably confess that I had left it out when reading the MS. to + her. Nothing but almost inspired lying got me out of this scrape + with my scalp. Does your wife give you rats, like that, when you go + a little one-sided? +</pre> + <p> + The Clemens family did not go to Elmira that year. The children's health + seemed to require the sea-shore, and in August they went to Bateman's + Point, Rhode Island, where Clemens most of the time played tenpins in an + alley that had gone to ruin. The balls would not stay on the track; the + pins stood at inebriate angles. It reminded him of the old billiard-tables + of Western mining-camps, and furnished the same uncertainty of play. It + was his delight, after he had become accustomed to the eccentricities of + the alley, to invite in a stranger and watch his suffering and his frantic + effort to score. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0107" id="link2H_4_0107"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CII. “SKETCHES NEW AND OLD” + </h2> + <p> + The long-delayed book of Sketches, contracted for five years before, was + issued that autumn. “The Jumping Frog,” which he had bought + from Webb, was included in the volume, also the French translation which + Madame Blanc (Th. Bentzon) had made for the Revue des deux mondes, with + Mark Twain's retranslation back into English, a most astonishing + performance in its literal rendition of the French idiom. One example will + suffice here. It is where the stranger says to Smiley, “I don't see + no p'ints about that frog that's any better'n any other frog.” + </p> + <p> + Says the French, retranslated: + </p> + <p> + “Eh bien! I no saw not that that frog had nothing of better than + each frog” (Je ne vois pas que cette grenouille ait mieux qu'aucune + grenouille). (If that isn't grammar gone to seed then I count myself no + judge.—M. T.) + </p> + <p> + “Possible that you not it saw not,” said Smiley; “possible + that you you comprehend frogs; possible that you not you there comprehend + nothing; possible that you had of the experience, and possible that you + not be but an amateur. Of all manner (de toute maniere) I bet forty + dollars that she batter in jumping, no matter which frog of the county of + Calaveras.” + </p> + <p> + He included a number of sketches originally published with the Frog, also + a selection from the “Memoranda” and Buffalo Express + contributions, and he put in the story of Auntie Cord, with some matter + which had never hitherto appeared. True Williams illustrated the book, but + either it furnished him no inspiration or he was allowed too much of + another sort, for the pictures do not compare with his earlier work. + </p> + <p> + Among the new matter in the book were-“Some Fables for Good Old Boys + and Girls,” in which certain wood creatures are supposed to make a + scientific excursion into a place at some time occupied by men. It is the + most pretentious feature of the book, and in its way about as good as any. + Like Gulliver's Travels, its object was satire, but its result is also + interest. + </p> + <p> + Clemens was very anxious that Howells should be first to review this + volume. He had a superstition that Howells's verdicts were echoed by the + lesser reviewers, and that a book was made or damned accordingly; a belief + hardly warranted, for the review has seldom been written that meant to any + book the difference between success and failure. Howells's review of + Sketches may be offered as a case in point. It was highly commendatory, + much more so than the notice of the 'Innocents' had been, or even that of + 'Roughing It', also more extensive than the latter. Yet after the initial + sale of some twenty thousand copies, mainly on the strength of the + author's reputation, the book made a comparatively poor showing, and soon + lagged far behind its predecessors. + </p> + <p> + We cannot judge, of course, the taste of that day, but it appears now an + unattractive, incoherent volume. The pictures were absurdly bad, the + sketches were of unequal merit. Many of them are amusing, some of them + delightful, but most of them seem ephemeral. If we except “The + Jumping Frog,” and possibly “A True Story” (and the + latter was altogether out of place in the collection), there is no reason + to suppose that any of its contents will escape oblivion. The greater + number of the sketches, as Mark Twain himself presently realized and + declared, would better have been allowed to die. + </p> + <p> + Howells did, however, take occasion to point out in his review, or at + least to suggest, the more serious side of Mark Twain. He particularly + called attention to “A True Story,” which the reviewers, at + the time of its publication in the Atlantic, had treated lightly, fearing + a lurking joke in it; or it may be they had not read it, for reviewers are + busy people. Howells spoke of it as the choicest piece of work in the + volume, and of its “perfect fidelity to the tragic fact.” He + urged the reader to turn to it again, and to read it as a “simple + dramatic report of reality,” such as had been equaled by no other + American writer. + </p> + <p> + It was in this volume of sketches that Mark Twain first spoke in print + concerning copyright, showing the absurd injustice of discriminating + against literary ownership by statute of limitation. He did this in the + form of an open petition to Congress, asking that all property, real and + personal, should be put on the copyright basis, its period of ownership + limited to a “beneficent term of forty-two years.” Generally + this was regarded as a joke, as in a sense it was; but like most of Mark + Twain's jokes it was founded on reason and justice. + </p> + <p> + The approval with which it was received by his literary associates led him + to still further flights. He began a determined crusade for international + copyright laws. It was a transcendental beginning, but it contained the + germ of what, in the course of time, he would be largely instrumental in + bringing to a ripe and magnificent conclusion. In this first effort he + framed a petition to enact laws by which the United States would declare + itself to be for right and justice, regardless of other nations, and + become a good example to the world by refusing to pirate the books of any + foreign author. He wrote to Howells, urging him to get Lowell, Longfellow, + Holmes, Whittier, and others to sign this petition. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I will then put a gentlemanly chap under wages, and send him personally to + every author of distinction in the country and corral the rest of the + signatures. Then I'll have the whole thing lithographed (about one + thousand copies), and move upon the President and Congress in person, but + in the subordinate capacity of the party who is merely the agent of better + and wiser men, or men whom the country cannot venture to laugh at. I will + ask the President to recommend the thing in his message (and if he should + ask me to sit down and frame the paragraph for him I should blush, but + still I would frame it). And then if Europe chooses to go on stealing from + us we would say, with noble enthusiasm, “American lawmakers do steal, but + not from foreign authors—not from foreign authors,”.... If we only + had some God in the country's laws, instead of being in such a sweat to + get Him into the Constitution, it would be better all around. + </pre> + <p> + The petition never reached Congress. Holmes agreed to sign it with a + smile, and the comment that governments were not in the habit of setting + themselves up as high moral examples, except for revenue. Longfellow also + pledged himself, as did a few others; but if there was any general + concurrence in the effort there is no memory of it now. Clemens abandoned + the original idea, but remained one of the most persistent and influential + advocates of copyright betterment, and lived to see most of his dream + fulfilled.—[For the petition concerning copyright term in the United + States, see Sketches New and Old. For the petition concerning + international copyright and related matters, see Appendix N, at the end of + last volume.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0108" id="link2H_4_0108"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CIII. “ATLANTIC” DAYS + </h2> + <p> + It was about this period that Mark Twain began to exhibit openly his more + serious side; that is to say his advocacy of public reforms. His paper on + “Universal Suffrage” had sounded a first note, and his + copyright petitions were of the same spirit. In later years he used to say + that he had always felt it was his mission to teach, to carry the banner + of moral reconstruction, and here at forty we find him furnishing + evidences of this inclination. In the Atlantic for October, 1875, there + was published an unsigned three-page article entitled, “The Curious + Republic of Gondour.” In this article was developed the idea that + the voting privilege should be estimated not by the individuals, but by + their intellectual qualifications. The republic of Gondour was a Utopia, + where this plan had been established: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It was an odd idea and ingenious. You must understand the + constitution gave every man a vote; therefore that vote was a vested + right, and could not be taken away. But the constitution did not + say that certain individuals might not be given two votes or ten. + So an amendatory clause was inserted in a quiet way, a clause which + authorized the enlargement of the suffrage in certain cases to be + specified by statute.... + + The victory was complete. The new law was framed and passed. Under + it every citizen, howsoever poor or ignorant, possessed one vote, so + universal suffrage still reigned; but if a man possessed a good + common-school education and no money he had two votes, a high-school + education gave him four; if he had property, likewise, to the value + of three thousand sacos he wielded one more vote; for every fifty + thousand sacos a man added to his property, he was entitled to + another vote; a University education entitled a man to nine votes, + even though he owned no property. +</pre> + <p> + The author goes on to show the beneficent results of this enaction; how + the country was benefited and glorified by this stimulus toward + enlightenment and industry. No one ever suspected that Mark Twain was the + author of this fable. It contained almost no trace of his usual literary + manner. Nevertheless he wrote it, and only withheld his name, as he did in + a few other instances, in the fear that the world might refuse to take him + seriously over his own signature or nom de plume. + </p> + <p> + Howells urged him to follow up the “Gondour” paper; to send + some more reports from that model land. But Clemens was engaged in other + things by that time, and was not pledged altogether to national reforms. + </p> + <p> + He was writing a skit about a bit of doggerel which was then making nights + and days unhappy for many undeserving persons who in an evil moment had + fallen upon it in some stray newspaper corner. A certain car line had + recently adopted the “punch system,” and posted in its cars, + for the information of passengers and conductor, this placard: + </p> + <p> + A Blue Trip Slip for an 8 Cents Fare, A Buff Trip Slip for a 6 Cents Fare, + A Pink Trip Slip for a 3 Cents Fare, For Coupon And Transfer, Punch The + Tickets. + </p> + <p> + Noah Brooks and Isaac Bromley were riding down-town one evening on the + Fourth Avenue line, when Bromley said: + </p> + <p> + “Brooks, it's poetry. By George, it's poetry!” + </p> + <p> + Brooks followed the direction of Bromley's finger and read the card of + instructions. They began perfecting the poetic character of the notice, + giving it still more of a rhythmic twist and jingle; arrived at the + Tribune office, W. C. Wyckoff, scientific editor, and Moses P. Handy lent + intellectual and poetic assistance, with this result: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Conductor, when you receive a fare, + + Punch in the presence of the passenjare! + A blue trip slip for an eight-cent fare, + A buff trip slip for a six-cent fare, + A pink trip slip for a three-cent fare. + Punch in the presence of the passenjare! + + CHORUS + Punch, brothers! Punch with care! + Punch in the presence of the passenjare! +</pre> + <p> + It was printed, and street-car poetry became popular. Different papers had + a turn at it, and each usually preceded its own effort with all other + examples, as far as perpetrated. Clemens discovered the lines, and on one + of their walks recited them to Twichell. “A Literary Nightmare” + was written a few days later. In it the author tells how the jingle took + instant and entire possession of him and went waltzing through his brain; + how, when he had finished his breakfast, he couldn't tell whether he had + eaten anything or not; and how, when he went to finish the novel he was + writing, and took up his pen, he could only get it to say: + </p> + <p> + Punch in the presence of the passenjare. + </p> + <p> + He found relief at last in telling it to his reverend friend, that is, + Twichell, upon whom he unloaded it with sad results. + </p> + <p> + It was an amusing and timely skit, and is worth reading to-day. Its + publication in the Atlantic had the effect of waking up horse-car poetry + all over the world. Howells, going to dine at Ernest Longfellow's the day + following its appearance, heard his host and Tom Appleton urging each + other to “Punch with care.” The Longfellow ladies had it by + heart. Boston was devastated by it. At home, Howells's children recited it + to him in chorus. The streets were full of it; in Harvard it became an + epidemic. + </p> + <p> + It was transformed into other tongues. Even Swinburne, the musical, is + said to have done a French version for the 'Revue des deux mondes'. * A + St. Louis magazine, The Western, found relief in a Latin anthem with this + chorus: + </p> + <p> + Pungite, fratres, pungite, Pungite cum amore, Pungite pro vectore, + Diligentissime pungite. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * LE CHANT DU CONDUCTEUR + + Ayant ete paye, le conducteur + Percera en pleine vue du voyageur, + Quand il regoit trois sous un coupon vert, + Un coupon jaune pour six sous c'est l'affaire, + Et pour huit sous c'est un coupon couleur + De rose, en pleine vue du voyageur. + + CHOEUR + Donc, percez soigneusement, mes freres + Tout en pleine vue des voyageurs, etc. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0109" id="link2H_4_0109"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CIV. MARK TWAIN AND HIS WIFE + </h2> + <p> + Clemens and his wife traveled to Boston for one of those happy + fore-gatherings with the Howellses, which continued, at one end of the + journey or another, for so many years. There was a luncheon with + Longfellow at Craigie House, and, on the return to Hartford, Clemens + reported to Howells how Mrs. Clemens had thrived on the happiness of the + visit. Also he confesses his punishment for the usual crimes: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I “caught it” for letting Mrs. Howells bother and bother about her + coffee, when it was a “good deal better than we get at home.” I + “caught it” for interrupting Mrs. C. at the last moment and losing + her the opportunity to urge you not to forget to send her that MS. + when the printers are done with it. I “caught it” once more for + personating that drunken Colonel James. I “caught it” for + mentioning that Mr. Longfellow's picture was slightly damaged; and + when, after a lull in the storm, I confessed, shamefacedly, that I + had privately suggested to you that we hadn't any frames, and that + if you wouldn't mind hinting to Mr. Houghton, etc., etc., etc., the + madam was simply speechless for the space of a minute. Then she + said: + + “How could you, Youth! The idea of sending Mr. Howells, with his + sensitive nature, upon such a repulsive er—” + + “Oh, Howells won't mind it! You don't know Howells. Howells is a + man who—” + + She was gone. But George was the first person she stumbled on in + the hall, so she took it out of George. I am glad of that, because + it saved the babies. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens used to admit, at a later day, that his education did not advance + by leaps and bounds, but gradually, very gradually; and it used to give + him a pathetic relief in those after-years, when that sweet presence had + gone out of his life, to tell the way of it, to confess over-fully, + perhaps, what a responsibility he had been to her. + </p> + <p> + He used to tell how, for a long time, he concealed his profanity from her; + how one morning, when he thought the door was shut between their bedroom + and the bathroom, he was in there dressing and shaving, accompanying these + trying things with language intended only for the strictest privacy; how + presently, when he discovered a button off the shirt he intended to put + on, he hurled it through the window into the yard with appropriate + remarks, followed it with another shirt that was in the same condition, + and added certain collars and neckties and bath-room requisites, + decorating the shrubbery outside, where the people were going by to + church; how in this extreme moment he heard a slight cough and turned to + find that the door was open! There was only one door to the bath-room, and + he knew he had to pass her. He felt pale and sick, and sat down for a few + moments to consider. He decided to assume that she was asleep, and to walk + out and through the room, head up, as if he had nothing on his conscience. + He attempted it, but without success. Half-way across the room he heard a + voice suddenly repeat his last terrific remark. He turned to see her + sitting up in bed, regarding him with a look as withering as she could + find in her gentle soul. The humor of it struck him. + </p> + <p> + “Livy,” he said, “did it sound like that?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it did,” she said, “only worse. I wanted you + to hear just how it sounded.” + </p> + <p> + “Livy,” he said, “it would pain me to think that when I + swear it sounds like that. You got the words right, Livy, but you don't + know the tune.” + </p> + <p> + Yet he never willingly gave her pain, and he adored her and gloried in her + dominion, his life long. Howells speaks of his beautiful and tender + loyalty to her as the “most moving quality of his most faithful + soul.” + </p> + <p> + It was a greater part of him than the love of most men for their wives, + and she merited all the worship he could give her, all the devotion, all + the implicit obedience, by her surpassing force and beauty of character. + </p> + <p> + She guarded his work sacredly; and reviewing the manuscripts which he was + induced to discard, and certain edited manuscripts, one gets a partial + idea of what the reading world owes to Olivia Clemens. Of the discarded + manuscripts (he seems seldom to have destroyed them) there are a + multitude, and among them all scarcely one that is not a proof of her + sanity and high regard for his literary honor. They are amusing—some + of them; they are interesting—some of them; they are strong and + virile—some of them; but they are unworthy—most of them, + though a number remain unfinished because theme or interest failed. + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain was likely to write not wisely but too much, piling up hundreds + of manuscript pages only because his brain was thronging as with a myriad + of fireflies, a swarm of darting, flashing ideas demanding release. As + often as not he began writing with only a nebulous idea of what he + proposed to do. He would start with a few characters and situations, + trusting in Providence to supply material as needed. So he was likely to + run ashore any time. As for those other attempts—stories “unavailable” + for one reason or another—he was just as apt to begin those as the + better sort, for somehow he could never tell the difference. That is one + of the hall-marks of genius—the thing which sharply differentiates + genius from talent. Genius is likely to rate a literary disaster as its + best work. Talent rarely makes that mistake. + </p> + <p> + Among the abandoned literary undertakings of these early years of + authorship there is the beginning of what was doubtless intended to become + a book, “The Second Advent,” a story which opens with a very + doubtful miraculous conception in Arkansas, and leads only to grotesquery + and literary disorder. There is another, “The Autobiography of a + Damn Fool,” a burlesque on family history, hopelessly impossible; + yet he began it with vast enthusiasm and, until he allowed her to see the + manuscript, thought it especially good. “Livy wouldn't have it,” + he said, “so I gave it up.” There is another, “The + Mysterious Chamber,” strong and fine in conception, vividly and + intensely interesting; the story of a young lover who is accidentally + locked behind a secret door in an old castle and cannot announce himself. + He wanders at last down into subterranean passages beneath the castle, and + he lives in this isolation for twenty years. The question of sustenance + was the weak point in the story. Clemens could invent no way of providing + it, except by means of a waste or conduit from the kitchen into which + scraps of meat, bread, and other items of garbage were thrown. This he + thought sufficient, but Mrs. Clemens did not highly regard such a literary + device. Clemens could think of no good way to improve upon it, so this + effort too was consigned to the penal colony, a set of pigeonholes kept in + his study. To Howells and others, when they came along, he would read the + discarded yarns, and they were delightful enough for such a purpose, as + delightful as the sketches which every artist has, turned face to the + wall. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Stormfield” lay under the ban for many a year, though + never entirely abandoned. This manuscript was even recommended for + publication by Howells, who has since admitted that it would not have done + then; and indeed, in its original, primitive nakedness it would hardly + have done even in this day of wider toleration. + </p> + <p> + It should be said here that there is not the least evidence (and the + manuscripts are full of evidence) that Mrs. Clemens was ever + super-sensitive, or narrow, or unliterary in her restraints. She became + his public, as it were, and no man ever had a more open-minded, + clear-headed public than that. For Mark Twain's reputation it would have + been better had she exercised her editorial prerogative even more actively—if, + in her love for him and her jealousy of his reputation, she had been even + more severe. She did all that lay in her strength, from the beginning to + the end, and if we dwell upon this phase of their life together it is + because it is so large a part of Mark Twain's literary story. On her + birthday in the year we are now closing (1875) he wrote her a letter which + conveys an acknowledgment of his debt. + </p> + <p> + LIVY DARLING,—Six years have gone by since I made my first great + success in life and won you, and thirty years have passed since Providence + made preparation for that happy success by sending you into the world. + Every day we live together adds to the security of my confidence that we + can never any more wish to be separated than we can imagine a regret that + we were ever joined. You are dearer to me to-day, my child, than you were + upon the last anniversary of this birthday; you were dearer then than you + were a year before; you have grown more and more dear from the first of + those anniversaries, and I do not doubt that this precious progression + will continue on to the end. + </p> + <p> + Let us look forward to the coming anniversaries, with their age and their + gray hairs, without fear and without depression, trusting and believing + that the love we bear each other will be sufficient to make them blessed. + </p> + <p> + So, with abounding affection for you and our babies I hail this day that + brings you the matronly grace and dignity of three decades! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0110" id="link2H_4_0110"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VOLUME II, Part 1: 1875-1886 + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0111" id="link2H_4_0111"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CV. MARK TWAIN AT FORTY + </h2> + <h3> + In conversation with John Hay, Hay said to Clemens: + </h3> + <p> + “A man reaches the zenith at forty, the top of the hill. From that + time forward he begins to descend. If you have any great undertaking + ahead, begin it now. You will never be so capable again.” + </p> + <p> + Of course this was only a theory of Hay's, a rule where rules do not + apply, where in the end the problem resolves itself into a question of + individualities. John Hay did as great work after forty as ever before, so + did Mark Twain, and both of them gained in intellectual strength and + public honor to the very end. + </p> + <p> + Yet it must have seemed to many who knew him, and to himself, like enough, + that Mark Twain at forty had reached the pinnacle of his fame and + achievement. His name was on every lip; in whatever environment + observation and argument were likely to be pointed with some saying or + anecdote attributed, rightly or otherwise, to Mark Twain. “As Mark + Twain says,” or, “You know that story of Mark Twain's,” + were universal and daily commonplaces. It was dazzling, towering fame, not + of the best or most enduring kind as yet, but holding somewhere within it + the structure of immortality. + </p> + <p> + He was in a constant state of siege, besought by all varieties and + conditions of humanity for favors such as only human need and abnormal + ingenuity can invent. His ever-increasing mail presented a marvelous + exhibition of the human species on undress parade. True, there were + hundreds of appreciative tributes from readers who spoke only out of a + heart's gratitude; but there were nearly as great a number who came with a + compliment, and added a petition, or a demand, or a suggestion, usually + unwarranted, often impertinent. Politicians, public speakers, aspiring + writers, actors, elocutionists, singers, inventors (most of them he had + never seen or heard of) cheerfully asked him for a recommendation as to + their abilities and projects. + </p> + <p> + Young men wrote requesting verses or sentiments to be inscribed in young + ladies' autograph albums; young girls wrote asking him to write the story + of his life, to be used as a school composition; men starting obscure + papers coolly invited him to lend them his name as editor, assuring him + that he would be put to no trouble, and that it would help advertise his + books; a fruitful humorist wrote that he had invented some five thousand + puns, and invited Mark Twain to father this terrific progeny in book form + for a share of the returns. But the list is endless. He said once: + </p> + <p> + “The symbol of the race ought to be a human being carrying an ax, + for every human being has one concealed about him somewhere, and is always + seeking the opportunity to grind it.” + </p> + <p> + Even P. T. Barnum had an ax, the large ax of advertising, and he was + perpetually trying to grind it on Mark Twain's reputation; in other words, + trying to get him to write something that would help to popularize “The + Greatest Show on Earth.” + </p> + <p> + There were a good many curious letters-letters from humorists, would-be + and genuine. A bright man in Duluth sent him an old Allen “pepper-box” + revolver with the statement that it had been found among a pile of bones + under a tree, from the limb of which was suspended a lasso and a buffalo + skull; this as evidence that the weapon was the genuine Allen which Bemis + had lost on that memorable Overland buffalo-hunt. Mark Twain enjoyed that, + and kept the old pepper-box as long as he lived. There were letters from + people with fads; letters from cranks of every description; curious + letters even from friends. Reginald Cholmondeley, that lovely eccentric of + Condover Hall, where Mr. and Mrs. Clemens had spent some halcyon days in + 1873, wrote him invitations to be at his castle on a certain day, naming + the hour, and adding that he had asked friends to meet him. Cholmondeley + had a fancy for birds, and spared nothing to improve his collection. Once + he wrote Clemens asking him to collect for him two hundred and five + American specimens, naming the varieties and the amount which he was to + pay for each. Clemens was to catch these birds and bring them over to + England, arriving at Condover on a certain day, when there would be + friends to meet him, of course. + </p> + <p> + Then there was a report which came now and then from another English + castle—the minutes of a certain “Mark Twain Club,” all + neatly and elaborately written out, with the speech of each member and the + discussions which had followed—the work, he found out later, of + another eccentric; for there was no Mark Twain Club, the reports being + just the mental diversion of a rich young man, with nothing else to do.—[In + Following the Equator Clemens combined these two pleasant characters in + one story, with elaborations.] + </p> + <p> + Letters came queerly addressed. There is one envelope still in existence + which bears Clemens's name in elaborate design and a very good silhouette + likeness, the work of some talented artist. “Mark Twain, United + States,” was a common address; “Mark Twain, The World,” + was also used; “Mark Twain, Somewhere,” mailed in a foreign + country, reached him promptly, and “Mark Twain, Anywhere,” + found its way to Hartford in due season. Then there was a letter (though + this was later; he was abroad at the time), mailed by Brander Matthews and + Francis Wilson, addressed, “Mark Twain, God Knows Where.” It + found him after traveling half around the world on its errand, and in his + answer he said, “He did.” Then some one sent a letter + addressed, “The Devil Knows Where.” Which also reached him, + and he answered, “He did, too.” + </p> + <p> + Surely this was the farthest horizon of fame. + </p> + <p> + Countless Mark Twain anecdotes are told of this period, of every period, + and will be told and personally vouched for so long as the last soul of + his generation remains alive. For seventy years longer, perhaps, there + will be those who will relate “personal recollections” of Mark + Twain. Many of them will be interesting; some of them will be true; most + of them will become history at last. It is too soon to make history of + much of this drift now. It is only safe to admit a few authenticated + examples. + </p> + <p> + It happens that one of the oftenest-told anecdotes has been the least + elaborated. It is the one about his call on Mrs. Stowe. Twichell's journal + entry, set down at the time, verifies it: + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Stowe was leaving for Florida one morning, and Clemens ran over early + to say good-by. On his return Mrs. Clemens regarded him disapprovingly: + </p> + <p> + “Why, Youth,” she said, “you haven't on any collar and + tie.” + </p> + <p> + He said nothing, but went up to his room, did up these items in a neat + package, and sent it over by a servant, with a line: + </p> + <p> + “Herewith receive a call from the rest of me.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Stowe returned a witty note, in which she said that he had discovered + a new principle, the principle of making calls by instalments, and asked + whether, in extreme cases, a man might not send his hat, coat, and boots + and be otherwise excused. + </p> + <p> + Col. Henry Watterson tells the story of an after-theater supper at the + Brevoort House, where Murat Halstead, Mark Twain, and himself were + present. A reporter sent in a card for Colonel Watterson, who was about to + deny himself when Clemens said: + </p> + <p> + “Give it to me; I'll fix it.” And left the table. He came back + in a moment and beckoned to Watterson. + </p> + <p> + “He is young and as innocent as a lamb,” he said. “I + represented myself as your secretary. I said that you were not here, but + if Mr. Halstead would do as well I would fetch him out. I'll introduce you + as Halstead, and we'll have some fun.” + </p> + <p> + Now, while Watterson and Halstead were always good friends, they were + political enemies. It was a political season and the reporter wanted that + kind of an interview. Watterson gave it to him, repudiating every + principle that Halstead stood for, reversing him in every expressed + opinion. Halstead was for hard money and given to flying the “bloody + shirt” of sectional prejudice; Watterson lowered the bloody shirt + and declared for greenbacks in Halstead's name. Then he and Clemens + returned to the table and told frankly what they had done. Of course, + nobody believed it. The report passed the World night-editor, and + appeared, next morning. Halstead woke up, then, and wrote a note to the + World, denying the interview throughout. The World printed his note with + the added line: + </p> + <p> + “When Mr. Halstead saw our reporter he had dined.” + </p> + <p> + It required John Hay (then on the Tribune) to place the joke where it + belonged. + </p> + <p> + There is a Lotos Club anecdote of Mark Twain that carries the internal + evidence of truth. Saturday evening at the Lotos always brought a + gathering of the “wits,” and on certain evenings—“Hens + and chickens” nights—each man had to tell a story, make a + speech, or sing a song. On one evening a young man, an invited guest, was + called upon and recited a very long poem. + </p> + <p> + One by one those who sat within easy reach of the various exits melted + away, until no one remained but Mark Twain. Perhaps he saw the earnestness + of the young man, and sympathized with it. He may have remembered a time + when he would have been grateful for one such attentive auditor. At all + events, he sat perfectly still, never taking his eyes from the reader, + never showing the least inclination toward discomfort or impatience, but + listening, as with rapt attention, to the very last line. Douglas Taylor, + one of the faithful Saturday-night members, said to him later: + </p> + <p> + “Mark, how did you manage to sit through that dreary, interminable + poem?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “that young man thought he had a divine + message to deliver, and I thought he was entitled to at least one auditor, + so I stayed with him.” + </p> + <p> + We may believe that for that one auditor the young author was willing to + sacrifice all the others. + </p> + <p> + One might continue these anecdotes for as long as the young man's poem + lasted, and perhaps hold as large an audience. But anecdotes are not all + of history. These are set down because they reflect a phase of the man and + an aspect of his life at this period. For at the most we can only present + an angle here and there, and tell a little of the story, letting each + reader from his fancy construct the rest. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0112" id="link2H_4_0112"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CVI. HIS FIRST STAGE APPEARANCE + </h2> + <p> + Once that winter the Monday Evening Club met at Mark Twain's home, and + instead of the usual essay he read them a story: “The Facts + Concerning the Recent Carnival of Crime in Connecticut.” It was the + story of a man's warfare with a personified conscience—a sort of + “William Wilson” idea, though less weird, less somber, and + with more actuality, more verisimilitude. It was, in fact, + autobiographical, a setting-down of the author's daily self-chidings. The + climax, where conscience is slain, is a startling picture which appeals to + most of humanity. So vivid is it all, that it is difficult in places not + to believe in the reality of the tale, though the allegory is always + present. + </p> + <p> + The club was deeply impressed by the little fictional sermon. One of its + ministerial members offered his pulpit for the next Sunday if Mark Twain + would deliver it to his congregation. Howells welcomed it for the + Atlantic, and published it in June. It was immensely successful at the + time, though for some reason it seems to be little known or remembered + to-day. Now and then a reader mentions it, always with enthusiasm. Howells + referred to it repeatedly in his letters, and finally persuaded Clemens to + let Osgood bring it out, with “A True Story,” in dainty, + booklet form. If the reader does not already know the tale, it will pay + him to look it up and read it, and then to read it again. + </p> + <p> + Meantime Tom Sawyer remained unpublished. + </p> + <p> + “Get Bliss to hurry it up!” wrote Howells. “That boy is + going to make a prodigious hit.” + </p> + <p> + But Clemens delayed the book, to find some means to outwit the Canadian + pirates, who thus far had laid hands on everything, and now were clamoring + at the Atlantic because there was no more to steal. + </p> + <p> + Moncure D. Conway was in America, and agreed to take the manuscript of + Sawyer to London and arrange for its publication and copyright. In + Conway's Memoirs he speaks of Mark Twain's beautiful home, comparing it + and its surroundings with the homes of Surrey, England. He tells of an + entertainment given to Harriet Beecher Stowe, a sort of animated jarley + wax-works. Clemens and Conway went over as if to pay a call, when + presently the old lady was rather startled by an invasion of costumed + figures. Clemens rose and began introducing them in his gay, fanciful + fashion. He began with a knight in full armor, saying, as if in an aside, + “Bring along that tinshop,” and went on to tell the romance of + the knight's achievements. + </p> + <p> + Conway read Tom Sawyer on the ship and was greatly excited over it. Later, + in London, he lectured on it, arranging meantime for its publication with + Chatto & Windus, thus establishing a friendly business relation with + that firm which Mark Twain continued during his lifetime. + </p> + <p> + Clemens lent himself to a number of institutional amusements that year, + and on the 26th of April, 1876, made his first public appearance on the + dramatic stage. + </p> + <p> + It was an amateur performance, but not of the usual kind. There was + genuine dramatic talent in Hartford, and the old play of the “Loan + of the Lover,” with Mark Twain as Peter Spuyk and Miss Helen Smith—[Now + Mrs. William W. Ellsworth.]—as Gertrude, with a support sufficient + for their needs, gave a performance that probably furnished as much + entertainment as that pleasant old play is capable of providing. Mark + Twain had in him the making of a great actor. Henry Irving once said to + him: + </p> + <p> + “You made a mistake by not adopting the stage as a profession. You + would have made even a greater actor than a writer.” + </p> + <p> + Yet it is unlikely that he would ever have been satisfied with the stage. + He had too many original literary ideas. He would never have been + satisfied to repeat the same part over and over again, night after night + from week to month, and from month to year. He could not stick to the + author's lines even for one night. In his performance of the easy-going, + thick-headed Peter Spuyk his impromptu additions to the lines made it hard + on the company, who found their cues all at sixes and sevens, but it + delighted the audience beyond measure. No such impersonation of that + character was ever given before, or ever will be given again. It was + repeated with new and astonishing variations on the part of Peter, and it + could have been put on for a long run. Augustin Daly wrote immediately, + offering the Fifth Avenue Theater for a “benefit” performance, + and again, a few days later, urging acceptance. “Not for one night, + but for many.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens was tempted, no doubt. Perhaps, if he had yielded, he would today + have had one more claim on immortality. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0113" id="link2H_4_0113"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CVII. HOWELLS, CLEMENS, AND “GEORGE” + </h2> + <p> + Howells and Clemens were visiting back and forth rather oftener just then. + Clemens was particularly fond of the Boston crowd—Aldrich, Fields, + Osgood, and the rest—delighting in those luncheons or dinners which + Osgood, that hospitable publisher, was always giving on one pretext or + another. No man ever loved company more than Osgood, or to play the part + of host and pay for the enjoyment of others. His dinners were elaborate + affairs, where the sages and poets and wits of that day (and sometimes + their wives) gathered. They were happy reunions, those fore-gatherings, + though perhaps a more intimate enjoyment was found at the luncheons, where + only two or three were invited, usually Aldrich, Howells, and Clemens, and + the talk continued through the afternoon and into the deepening twilight, + such company and such twilight as somehow one seems never to find any + more. + </p> + <p> + On one of the visits which Howells made to Hartford that year he took his + son John, then a small boy, with him. John was about six years old at the + time, with his head full of stories of Aladdin, and of other Arabian + fancies. On the way over his father said to him: + </p> + <p> + “Now, John, you will see a perfect palace.” + </p> + <p> + They arrived, and John was awed into silence by the magnificence and + splendors of his surroundings until they went to the bath-room to wash off + the dust of travel. There he happened to notice a cake of pink soap. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” he said, “they've even got their soap painted!” + Next morning he woke early—they were occupying the mahogany room on + the ground floor—and slipping out through the library, and to the + door of the dining-room, he saw the colored butler, George—the + immortal George—setting the breakfast-table. He hurriedly tiptoed + back and whispered to his father: + </p> + <p> + “Come quick! The slave is setting the table!” + </p> + <p> + This being the second mention of George, it seems proper here that he + should be formally presented. Clemens used to say that George came one day + to wash windows and remained eighteen years. He was precisely the sort of + character that Mark Twain loved. He had formerly been the body-servant of + an army general and was typically racially Southern, with those delightful + attributes of wit and policy and gentleness which go with the best type of + negro character. The children loved him no less than did their father. + Mrs. Clemens likewise had a weakness for George, though she did not + approve of him. George's morals were defective. He was an inveterate + gambler. He would bet on anything, though prudently and with knowledge. He + would investigate before he invested. If he placed his money on a horse, + he knew the horse's pedigree and the pedigree of the horses against it, + also of their riders. If he invested in an election, he knew all about the + candidates. He had agents among his own race, and among the whites as + well, to supply him with information. He kept them faithful to him by + lending them money—at ruinous interest. He buttonholed Mark Twain's + callers while he was removing their coats concerning the political + situation, much to the chagrin of Mrs. Clemens, who protested, though + vainly, for the men liked George and his ways, and upheld him in his + iniquities. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Clemens's disapproval of George reached the point, now and then, + where she declared he could not remain. + </p> + <p> + She even discharged him once, but next morning George was at the + breakfast-table, in attendance, as usual. Mrs. Clemens looked at him + gravely: + </p> + <p> + “George,” she said, “didn't I discharge you yesterday?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mis' Clemens, but I knew you couldn't get along without me, so + I thought I'd better stay a while.” + </p> + <p> + In one of the letters to Howells, Clemens wrote: + </p> + <p> + When George first came he was one of the most religious of men. He had but + one fault—young George Washington's. But I have trained him; and now + it fairly breaks Mrs. Clemens's heart to hear him stand at that front door + and lie to an unwelcome visitor. + </p> + <p> + George was a fine diplomat. He would come up to the billiard-room with a + card or message from some one waiting below, and Clemens would fling his + soul into a sultry denial which became a soothing and balmy subterfuge + before it reached the front door. + </p> + <p> + The “slave” must have been setting the table in good season, + for the Clemens breakfasts were likely to be late. They usually came along + about nine o'clock, by which time Howells and John were fairly clawing + with hunger. + </p> + <p> + Clemens did not have an early appetite, but when it came it was a good + one. Breakfast and dinner were his important meals. He seldom ate at all + during the middle of the day, though if guests were present he would join + them at luncheon-time and walk up and down while they were eating, talking + and gesticulating in his fervent, fascinating way. Sometimes Mrs. Clemens + would say: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Youth, do come and sit down with us. We can listen so much + better.” + </p> + <p> + But he seldom did. At dinner, too, it was his habit, between the courses, + to rise from the table and walk up and down the room, waving his napkin + and talking!—talking in a strain and with a charm that he could + never quite equal with his pen. It's the opinion of most people who knew + Mark Twain personally that his impromptu utterances, delivered with that + ineffable quality of speech, manifested the culmination of his genius. + </p> + <p> + When Clemens came to Boston the Howells household was regulated, or rather + unregulated, without regard to former routine. Mark Twain's personality + was of a sort that unconsciously compelled the general attendance of any + household. The reader may recall Josh Billings's remark on the subject. + Howells tells how they kept their guest to themselves when he visited + their home in Cambridge, permitting him to indulge in as many + unconventions as he chose; how Clemens would take a room at the Parker + House, leaving the gas burning day and night, and perhaps arrive at + Cambridge, after a dinner or a reading, in evening dress and slippers, and + joyously remain with them for a day or more in that guise, slipping on an + overcoat and a pair of rubbers when they went for a walk. Also, how he + smoked continuously in every room of the house, smoked during every waking + moment, and how Howells, mindful of his insurance, sometimes slipped in + and removed the still-burning cigar after he was asleep. + </p> + <p> + Clemens had difficulty in getting to sleep in that earlier day, and for a + time found it soothing to drink a little champagne on retiring. Once, when + he arrived in Boston, Howells said: + </p> + <p> + “Clemens, we've laid in a bottle of champagne for you.” + </p> + <p> + But he answered: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's no good any more. Beer's the thing.” + </p> + <p> + So Howells provided the beer, and always afterward had a vision of his + guest going up-stairs that night with a pint bottle under each arm. + </p> + <p> + He invented other methods of inducing slumber as the years went by, and at + one time found that this precious boon came more easily when he stretched + himself on the bath-room floor. + </p> + <p> + He was a perpetual joy to the Howells family when he was there, even + though the household required a general reorganization when he was gone. + </p> + <p> + Mildred Howells remembers how, as a very little girl, her mother cautioned + her not to ask for anything she wanted at the table when company was + present, but to speak privately of it to her. Miss Howells declares that + while Mark Twain was their guest she nearly starved because it was + impossible to get her mother's attention; and Mrs. Howells, after one of + those visits of hilarity and disorder, said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, it 'most kills me, but it pays,” a remark which Clemens + vastly enjoyed. Howells himself once wrote: + </p> + <p> + Your visit was a perfect ovation for us; we never enjoy anything so much + as those visits of yours. The smoke and the Scotch and the late hours + almost kill us; but we look each other in the eyes when you are gone, and + say what a glorious time it was, and air the library, and begin sleeping + and longing to have you back again.... + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0114" id="link2H_4_0114"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CVIII. SUMMER LABORS AT QUARRY FARM + </h2> + <p> + They went to Elmira, that summer of '76, to be “hermits and eschew + caves and live in the sun,” as Clemens wrote in a letter to Dr. + Brown. They returned to the place as to Paradise: Clemens to his study and + the books which he always called for, Mrs. Clemens to a blessed relief + from social obligations, the children to the shady play-places, the green, + sloping hill, where they could race and tumble, and to all their animal + friends. + </p> + <p> + Susy was really growing up. She had had several birthdays, quite grand + affairs, when she had been brought down in the morning, decked, and with + proper ceremonies, with subsequent celebration. She was a strange, + thoughtful child, much given to reflecting on the power and presence of + infinity, for she was religiously taught. Down in the city, one night, + there was a grand display of fireworks, and the hilltop was a good place + from which to enjoy it; but it grew late after a little, and Susy was + ordered to bed. She said, thoughtfully: + </p> + <p> + “I wish I could sit up all night, as God does.” + </p> + <p> + The baby, whom they still called “Bay,” was a tiny, brown + creature who liked to romp in the sun and be rocked to sleep at night with + a song. Clemens often took them for extended walks, pushing Bay in her + carriage. Once, in a preoccupied moment, he let go of the little vehicle + and it started downhill, gaining speed rapidly. + </p> + <p> + He awoke then, and set off in wild pursuit. Before he could overtake the + runaway carriage it had turned to the roadside and upset. Bay was lying + among the stones and her head was bleeding. Hastily binding the wound with + a handkerchief he started full speed with her up the hill toward the + house, calling for restoratives as he came. It was no serious matter. The + little girl was strong and did not readily give way to affliction. + </p> + <p> + The children were unlike: Susy was all contemplation and nerves; Bay + serene and practical. It was said, when a pet cat died—this was some + years later—that Susy deeply reflected as to its life here and + hereafter, while Bay was concerned only as to the style of its funeral. + Susy showed early her father's quaintness of remark. Once they bought her + a heavier pair of shoes than she approved of. She was not in the best of + humors during the day, and that night, when at prayer-time her mother + said, “Now, Susy, put your thoughts on God,” she answered, + “Mama, I can't with those shoes.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens worked steadily that summer and did a variety of things. He had + given up a novel, begun with much enthusiasm, but he had undertaken + another long manuscript. By the middle of August he had written several + hundred pages of a story which was to be a continuation of Tom Sawyer—The + Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Now, here is a curious phase of genius. + The novel which for a time had filled him with enthusiasm and faith had no + important literary value, whereas, concerning this new tale, he says: + </p> + <p> + “I like it only tolerably well, as far as I have gone, and may + possibly pigeonhole or burn the manuscript when it is done”—this + of the story which, of his books of pure fiction, will perhaps longest + survive. He did, in fact, give the story up, and without much regret, when + it was about half completed, and let it lie unfinished for years. + </p> + <p> + He wrote one short tale, “The Canvasser's Story,” a burlesque + of no special distinction, and he projected for the Atlantic a scheme of + “blindfold novelettes,” a series of stories to be written by + well-known authors and others, each to be constructed on the same plot. + One can easily imagine Clemens's enthusiasm over a banal project like + that; his impulses were always rainbow-hued, whether valuable or not; but + it is curious that Howells should welcome and even encourage an enterprise + so far removed from all the traditions of art. It fell to pieces, at last, + of inherent misconstruction. The title was to be, “A Murder and a + Marriage.” Clemens could not arrive at a logical climax that did not + bring the marriage and the hanging on the same day. + </p> + <p> + The Atlantic started its “Contributors' Club,” and Howells + wrote to Clemens for a paragraph or more of personal opinion on any + subject, assuring him that he could “spit his spite” out at + somebody or something as if it were a passage from a letter. That was a + fairly large permission to give Mark Twain. The paragraph he sent was the + sort of thing he would write with glee, and hug himself over in the + thought of Howells's necessity of rejecting it. In the accompanying note + he said: + </p> + <p> + Say, Boss, do you want this to lighten up your old freight-train with? I + suppose you won't, but then it won't take long to say, so. + </p> + <p> + He was always sending impossible offerings to the magazines; innocently + enough sometimes, but often out of pure mischievousness. Yet they were + constantly after him, for they knew they were likely to get a first-water + gem. Mary Mopes Dodge, of St. Nicholas, wrote time and again, and finally + said: + </p> + <p> + “I know a man who was persecuted by an editor till he went + distracted.” + </p> + <p> + In his reading that year at the farm he gave more than customary attention + to one of his favorite books, Pepys' Diary, that captivating old record + which no one can follow continuously without catching the infection of its + manner and the desire of imitation. He had been reading diligently one + day, when he determined to try his hand on an imaginary record of + conversation and court manners of a bygone day, written in the phrase of + the period. The result was Fireside Conversation in the Time of Queen + Elizabeth, or, as he later called it, 1601. The “conversation,” + recorded by a supposed Pepys of that period, was written with all the + outspoken coarseness and nakedness of that rank day, when fireside + sociabilities were limited only by the range of loosened fancy, + vocabulary, and physical performance, and not by any bounds of convention. + Howells has spoken of Mark Twain's “Elizabethan breadth of parlance,” + and how he, Howells, was always hiding away in discreet holes and corners + the letters in which Clemens had “loosed his bold fancy to stoop on + rank suggestion.” “I could not bear to burn them,” he + declares, “and I could not, after the first reading, quite bear to + look at them.” + </p> + <p> + In the 1601 Mark Twain outdid himself in the Elizabethan field. It was + written as a letter to that robust divine, Rev. Joseph Twichell, who had + no special scruples concerning Shakespearian parlance and customs. Before + it was mailed it was shown to David Gray, who was spending a Sunday at + Elmira. Gray said: + </p> + <p> + “Print it and put your name to it, Mark. You have never done a + greater piece of work than that.” + </p> + <p> + John Hay, whom it also reached in due time, pronounced it a classic—a + “most exquisite bit of old English morality.” Hay + surreptitiously permitted some proofs to be made of it, and it has been + circulated privately, though sparingly, ever since. At one time a special + font of antique type was made for it and one hundred copies were taken on + hand-made paper. They would easily bring a hundred dollars each to-day. + </p> + <p> + 1601 is a genuine classic, as classics of that sort go. It is better than + the gross obscenities of Rabelais, and perhaps, in some day to come, the + taste that justified Gargantua and the Decameron will give this literary + refugee shelter and setting among the more conventional writings of Mark + Twain. Human taste is a curious thing; delicacy is purely a matter of + environment and point of view.—[In a note-book of a later period + Clemens himself wrote: “It depends on who writes a thing whether it + is coarse or not. I once wrote a conversation between Elizabeth, + Shakespeare, Ben Jonson, Beaumont, Sir W. Raleigh, Lord Bacon, Sir + Nicholas Throckmorton, and a stupid old nobleman—this latter being + cup-bearer to the queen and ostensible reporter of the talk. + </p> + <p> + “There were four maids of honor present and a sweet young girl two + years younger than the boy Beaumont. I built a conversation which could + have happened—I used words such as were used at that time—1601. + I sent it anonymously to a magazine, and how the editor abused it and the + sender! But that man was a praiser of Rabelais, and had been saying, 'O + that we had a Rabelais!' I judged that I could furnish him one.”] + </p> + <p> + Eighteen hundred and seventy-six was a Presidential year—the year of + the Hayes-Tilden campaign. Clemens and Howells were both warm Republicans + and actively interested in the outcome, Clemens, as he confessed, for the + first time in his life. Before his return to Hartford he announced himself + publicly as a Hayes man, made so by Governor Hayes's letter of acceptance, + which, he said, “expresses my own political convictions.” His + politics had not been generally known up to that time, and a Tilden and + Hendricks club in Jersey City had invited him to be present and give them + some political counsel, at a flag-raising. He wrote, declining pleasantly + enough, then added: + </p> + <p> + “You have asked me for some political counsel or advice: In view of + Mr. Tilden's Civil War record my advice is not to raise the flag.” + </p> + <p> + He wrote Howells: “If Tilden is elected I think the entire country + will go pretty straight to—Mrs. Howells's bad place.” + </p> + <p> + Howells was writing a campaign biography of Hayes, which he hoped would + have a large sale, and Clemens urged him to get it out quickly and save + the country. Howells, working like a beaver, in turn urged Clemens to take + the field in the cause. Returning to Hartford, Clemens presided at a + political rally and made a speech, the most widely quoted of the campaign. + All papers, without distinction as to party, quoted it, and all readers, + regardless of politics, read it with joy. + </p> + <p> + Yet conditions did not improve. When Howells's book had been out a + reasonable length of time he wrote that it had sold only two thousand + copies. + </p> + <p> + “There's success for you,” he said. “It makes me despair + of the Republic, I can tell you.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens, however, did not lose faith, and went on shouting for Hayes and + damning Tilden till the final vote was cast. In later life he changed his + mind about Tilden (as did many others) through sympathy. Sympathy could + make Mark Twain change his mind any time. He stood for the right, but, + above all, for justice. He stood for the wronged, regardless of all other + things. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0115" id="link2H_4_0115"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CIX. THE PUBLIC APPEARANCE OF “TOM SAWYER” + </h2> + <p> + Clemens gave a few readings in Boston and Philadelphia, but when urged to + go elsewhere made the excuse that he was having his portrait painted and + could not leave home. + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact, he was enjoying himself with Frank Millet, who had + been invited to the house to do the portrait and had captured the fervent + admiration of the whole family. Millet was young, handsome, and lively; + Clemens couldn't see enough of him, the children adored him and added his + name to the prayer which included each member of the household—the + “Holy Family,” Clemens called it. + </p> + <p> + Millet had brought with him but one piece of canvas for the portrait, and + when the first sketch was finished Mrs. Clemens was so delighted with it + that she did not wish him to touch it again. She was afraid of losing some + particular feeling in it which she valued. Millet went to the city for + another canvas and Clemens accompanied him. While Millet was doing his + shopping it happened to occur to Clemens that it would be well to fill in + the time by having his hair cut. He left word with a clerk to tell Millet + that he had gone across the street. By and by the artist came over, and + nearly wept with despair when he saw his subject sheared of the auburn, + gray-sprinkled aureola that had made his first sketch a success. He tried + it again, and the result was an excellent likeness, but it never satisfied + Millet. + </p> + <p> + The 'Adventures of Tom Sawyer' appeared late in December (1876), and + immediately took its place as foremost of American stories of boy life, a + place which it unquestionably holds to this day. We have already + considered the personal details of this story, for they were essentially + nothing more than the various aspects of Mark Twain's own boyhood. It is + only necessary to add a word concerning the elaboration of this period in + literary form. + </p> + <p> + From every point it is a masterpiece, this picture of boy life in a little + lazy, drowsy town, with all the irresponsibility and general + disreputability of boy character coupled with that indefinable, formless, + elusive something we call boy conscience, which is more likely to be boy + terror and a latent instinct of manliness. These things are so truly + portrayed that every boy and man reader finds the tale fitting into his + own remembered years, as if it had grown there. Every boy has played off + sick to escape school; every boy has reflected in his heart Tom's picture + of himself being brought home dead, and gloated over the stricken + consciences of those who had blighted his young life; every boy—of + that day, at least—every normal, respectable boy, grew up to “fear + God and dread the Sunday-school,” as Howells puts it in his review. + </p> + <p> + As for the story itself, the narrative of it, it is pure delight. The + pirate camp on the island is simply boy heaven. What boy, for instance, + would not change any other glory or boon that the world holds for this: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + They built a fire against the side of a great log twenty or thirty + steps within the somber depths of the forest, and then cooked some + bacon in the frying-pan for supper, and used up half of the corn + “pone” stock they had brought. It seemed glorious sport to be + feasting in that wild, free way in the virgin forest of an + unexplored and uninhabited island, far from the haunts of men, and + they said they never would return to civilization. The climbing + fire lit up their faces and threw its ruddy glare upon the pillared + tree-trunks of their forest-temple, and upon the varnished foliage + and the festooning vines. +</pre> + <p> + There is a magic in it. Mark Twain, when he wrote it, felt renewed in him + all the old fascination of those days and nights with Tom Blankenship, + John Briggs, and the Bowen boys on Glasscock's Island. Everywhere in Tom + Sawyer there is a quality, entirely apart from the humor and the + narrative, which the younger reader is likely to overlook. No one forgets + the whitewashing scene, but not many of us, from our early reading, recall + this delicious bit of description which introduces it: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The locust-trees were in bloom, and the fragrance of the blossoms + filled the air. Cardiff Hill, beyond the village and above it, was + green with vegetation, and it lay just far enough away to seem a + delectable land, dreamy, reposeful, and inviting. +</pre> + <p> + Tom's night visit home; the graveyard scene, with the murder of Dr. + Robinson; the adventures of Tom and Becky in the cave—these are all + marvelously invented. Literary thrill touches the ultimate in one incident + of the cave episode. Brander Matthews has written: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Nor is there any situation quite as thrilling as that awful moment + in the cave when the boy and girl are lost in the darkness, and when + Tom suddenly sees a human hand bearing a light, and then finds that + the hand is the hand of Indian Joe, his one mortal enemy. I have + always thought that the vision of the hand in the cave in Tom Sawyer + was one of the very finest things in the literature of adventure + since Robinson Crusoe first saw a single footprint in the sand of + the sea-shore. +</pre> + <p> + Mark Twain's invention was not always a reliable quantity, but with that + eccentricity which goes with any attribute of genius, it was likely at any + moment to rise supreme. If to the critical, hardened reader the tale seems + a shade overdone here and there, a trifle extravagant in its delineations, + let him go back to his first long-ago reading of it and see if he recalls + anything but his pure delight in it then. As a boy's story it has not been + equaled. + </p> + <p> + Tom Sawyer has ranked in popularity with Roughing It. + </p> + <p> + Its sales go steadily on from year to year, and are likely to continue so + long as boys and girls do not change, and men and women remember. —[Col. + Henry Watterson, when he finished Tom Sawyer, wrote: “I have just + laid down Tom Sawyer, and cannot resist the pressure. It is immense! I + read every word of it, didn't skip a line, and nearly disgraced myself + several times in the presence of a sleeping-car full of honorable and + pious people. Once I had to get to one side and have a cry, and as for an + internal compound of laughter and tears there was no end to it.... The + 'funeral' of the boys, the cave business, and the hunt for the hidden + treasure are as dramatic as anything I know of in fiction, while the + pathos—particularly everything relating to Huck and Aunt Polly—makes + a cross between Dickens's skill and Thackeray's nature, which, resembling + neither, is thoroughly impressive and original.”] + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0116" id="link2H_4_0116"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CX. MARK TWAIN AND BRET HARTE WRITE A PLAY + </h2> + <p> + It was the fall and winter of '76 that Bret Harte came to Hartford and + collaborated with Mark Twain on the play “Ah Sin,” a + comedy-drama, or melodrama, written for Charles T. Parsloe, the great + impersonator of Chinese character. Harte had written a successful play + which unfortunately he had sold outright for no great sum, and was eager + for another venture. Harte had the dramatic sense and constructive + invention. He also had humor, but he felt the need of the sort of humor + that Mark Twain could furnish. Furthermore, he believed that a play backed + by both their reputations must start with great advantages. Clemens also + realized these things, and the arrangement was made. Speaking of their + method of working, Clemens once said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, Bret came down to Hartford and we talked it over, and then + Bret wrote it while I played billiards, but of course I had to go over it + to get the dialect right. Bret never did know anything about dialect.” + Which is hardly a fair statement of the case. They both worked on the + play, and worked hard. + </p> + <p> + During the period of its construction Harte had an order for a story which + he said he must finish at once, as he needed the money. It must be + delivered by the following night, and he insisted that he must be getting + at it without a moment's delay. Still he seemed in no haste to begin. The + evening passed; bedtime came. Then he asked that an open fire might be + made in his room and a bottle of whisky sent up, in case he needed + something to keep him awake. George attended to these matters, and nothing + more was heard of Harte until very early next morning, when he rang for + George and asked for a fresh fire and an additional supply of whisky. At + breakfast-time he appeared, fresh, rosy, and elate, with the announcement + that his story was complete. + </p> + <p> + That forenoon the Saturday Morning Club met at the Clemens home. It was a + young women's club, of which Mark Twain was a sort of honorary member—a + club for the purpose of intellectual advancement, somewhat on the order of + the Monday Evening Club of men, except that the papers read before it were + not prepared by members, but by men and women prominent in some field of + intellectual progress. Bret Harte had agreed to read to them on this + particular occasion, and he gaily appeared and gave them the story just + finished, “Thankful Blossom,” a tale which Mark Twain always + regarded as one of Harte's very best. + </p> + <p> + The new play, “Ah Sin,” by Mark Twain and Bret Harte, was put + on at Washington, at the National Theater, on the evening of May 7, 1877. + It had been widely exploited in the newspapers, and the fame of the + authors insured a crowded opening. Clemens was unable to go over on + account of a sudden attack of bronchitis. Parsloe was nervous accordingly, + and the presence of Harte does not seem to have added to his happiness. + </p> + <p> + “I am not very well myself,” he wrote to Clemens. “The + excitement of the first night is bad enough, but to have the annoyance + with Harte that I have is too much for a new beginner.” + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, the play seems to have gone well, with Parsloe as Ah Sin—a + Chinese laundryman who was also a great number of other diverting things—with + a fair support and a happy-go-lucky presentation of frontier life, which + included a supposed murder, a false accusation, and a general clearing-up + of mystery by the pleasant and wily and useful and entertaining Ah Sin. It + was not a great play. It was neither very coherent nor convincing, but it + had a lot of good fun in it, with character parts which, if not faithful + to life, were faithful enough to the public conception of it to be amusing + and exciting. At the end of each act not only Parsloe, but also the + principal members of the company, were called before the curtain for + special acknowledgments. When it was over there was a general call for Ah + Sin, who came before the curtain and read a telegram. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES T. PARSLOE,—I am on the sick-list, and therefore cannot come + to Washington; but I have prepared two speeches—one to deliver in + event of failure of the play, and the other if successful. Please tell me + which I shall send. May be better to put it to vote. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MARK TWAIN. +</pre> + <p> + The house cheered the letter, and when it was put to vote decided + unanimously that the play had been a success—a verdict more kindly + than true. + </p> + <p> + J. I. Ford, of the theater management, wrote to Clemens, next morning + after the first performance, urging him to come to Washington in person + and “wet nurse” the play until “it could do for itself.” + </p> + <p> + Ford expressed satisfaction with the play and its prospects, and + concludes: + </p> + <p> + I inclose notices. Come if you can. “Your presence will be worth ten + thousand men. The king's name is a tower of strength.” I have urged + the President to come to-night. + </p> + <p> + The play made no money in Washington, but Augustin Daly decided to put it + on in New York at the Fifth Avenue Theater, with a company which included, + besides Parsloe, Edmund Collier, P. A. Anderson, Dora Goldthwaite, Henry + Crisp, and Mrs. Wells, a very worthy group of players indeed. Clemens was + present at the opening, dressed in white, which he affected only for + warm-weather use in those days, and made a speech at the end of the third + act. + </p> + <p> + “Ah Sin” did not excite much enthusiasm among New York + dramatic critics. The houses were promising for a time, but for some + reason the performance as a whole did not contain the elements of + prosperity. It set out on its provincial travels with no particular + prestige beyond the reputation of its authors; and it would seem that this + was not enough, for it failed to pay, and all parties concerned presently + abandoned it to its fate and it was heard of no more. Just why “Ah + Sin” did not prosper it would not become us to decide at this far + remove of time and taste. Poorer plays have succeeded and better plays + have failed since then, and no one has ever been able to demonstrate the + mystery. A touch somewhere, a pulling-about and a readjustment, might have + saved “Ah Sin,” but the pullings and haulings which they gave + it did not. Perhaps it still lies in some managerial vault, and some day + may be dragged to light and reconstructed and recast, and come into its + reward. Who knows? Or it may have drifted to that harbor of forgotten + plays, whence there is no returning. + </p> + <p> + As between Harte and Clemens, the whole matter was unfortunate. In the + course of their association there arose a friction and the long-time + friendship disappeared. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0117" id="link2H_4_0117"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXI. A BERMUDA HOLIDAY + </h2> + <p> + On the 16th of May, 1877, Mark Twain set out on what, in his note-book, he + declared to be “the first actual pleasure-trip” he had ever + taken, meaning that on every previous trip he had started with a purpose + other than that of mere enjoyment. He took with him his friend and pastor, + the Rev. Joseph H. Twichell, and they sailed for Bermuda, an island resort + not so well known or so fashionable as to-day. + </p> + <p> + They did not go to a hotel. Under assumed names they took up quarters in a + boarding-house, with a Mrs. Kirkham, and were unmolested and altogether + happy in their wanderings through four golden days. Mark Twain could not + resist keeping a note-book, setting down bits of scenery and character and + incident, just as he had always done. He was impressed with the cheapness + of property and living in the Bermuda of that period. He makes special + mention of some cottages constructed of coral blocks: “All as + beautiful and as neat as a pin, at the cost of four hundred and eighty + dollars each.” To Twichell he remarked: + </p> + <p> + “Joe, this place is like Heaven, and I'm going to make the most of + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Mark,” said Twichell, “that's right; make the most of a + place that is like Heaven while you have a chance.” + </p> + <p> + In one of the entries—the final one—Clemens says: + </p> + <p> + “Bermuda is free (at present) from the triple curse of railways, + telegraphs, and newspapers, but this will not last the year. I propose to + spend next year here and no more.” + </p> + <p> + When they were ready to leave, and started for the steamer, Twichell made + an excuse to go back, his purpose being to tell their landlady and her + daughter that, without knowing it, they had been entertaining Mark Twain. + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever hear of Mark Twain?” asked Twichell. + </p> + <p> + The daughter answered. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, “until I'm tired of the name. I know a + young man who never talks of anything else.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Twichell, “that gentleman with me is Mark + Twain.” + </p> + <p> + The Kirkhams declined to believe it at first, and then were in deep sorrow + that they had not known it earlier. Twichell promised that he and Clemens + would come back the next year; and they meant to go back—we always + mean to go back to places—but it was thirty years before they + returned at last, and then their pleasant landlady was dead. + </p> + <p> + On the home trip they sighted a wandering vessel, manned by blacks, trying + to get to New York. She had no cargo and was pretty helpless. Later, when + she was reported again, Clemens wrote about it in a Hartford paper, + telling the story as he knew it. The vessel had shipped the crew, on a + basis of passage to New York, in exchange for labor. So it was a “pleasure-excursion!” + Clemens dwelt on this fancy: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have heard of a good many pleasure-excursions, but this heads the + list. It is monumental, and if ever the tired old tramp is found I + should like to be there and see him in his sorrowful rags and his + venerable head of grass and seaweed, and hear the ancient mariners + tell the story of their mysterious wanderings through the solemn + solitudes of the ocean. +</pre> + <p> + Long afterward this vagrant craft was reported again, still drifting with + the relentless Gulf Stream. Perhaps she reached New York in time; one + would like to know, but there seems no good way to find out. + </p> + <p> + That first Bermuda voyage was always a happy memory to Mark Twain. To + Twichell he wrote that it was the “joyousest trip” he had ever + made: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Not a heartache anywhere, not a twinge of conscience. I often come + to myself out of a reverie and detect an undertone of thought that + had been thinking itself without volition of mind—viz., that if we + had only had ten days of those walks and talks instead of four. +</pre> + <p> + There was but one regret: Howells had not been with them. Clemens + denounced him for his absence: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + If you had gone with us and let me pay the fifty dollars, which the + trip and the board and the various knick-knacks and mementos would + cost, I would have picked up enough droppings from your conversation + to pay me five hundred per cent. profit in the way of the several + magazine articles which I could have written; whereas I can now + write only one or two, and am therefore largely out of pocket by + your proud ways. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens would not fail to write about his trip. He could not help doing + that, and he began “Some Rambling Notes of an Idle Excursion” + as soon as he landed in Hartford. They were quite what the name would + signify—leisurely, pleasant commentaries on a loafing, peaceful + vacation. They are not startling in their humor or description, but are + gently amusing and summery, reflecting, bubble-like, evanescent fancies of + Bermuda. Howells, shut up in a Boston editorial office, found them + delightful enough, and very likely his Atlantic readers agreed with him. + The story of “Isaac and the Prophets of Baal” was one that + Capt. Ned Wakeman had told to Twichell during a voyage which the latter + had made to Aspinwall with that vigorous old seafarer; so in the “Rambling + Notes” Wakeman appears as Captain Hurricane Jones, probably a step + in the evolution of the later name of Stormfield. The best feature of the + series (there were four papers in all) is a story of a rescue in + mid-ocean; but surely the brightest ripple of humor is the reference to + Bermuda's mahogany-tree: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There was exactly one mahogany-tree on the island. I know this to + be reliable because I saw a man who said he had counted it many a + time and could not be mistaken. He was a man with a haze lip and a + pure heart, and everybody said he was as true as steel. Such men + are all too few. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens cared less for these papers than did Howells. He had serious + doubts about the first two and suggested their destruction, but with + Howells's appreciation his own confidence in them returned and he let them + all go in. They did not especially advance his reputation, but perhaps + they did it no harm. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0118" id="link2H_4_0118"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXII. A NEW PLAY AND A NEW TALE + </h2> + <p> + He wrote a short story that year which is notable mainly for the fact that + in it the telephone becomes a literary property, probably for the first + time. “The Loves of Alonzo Fitz-Clarence and Rosannah Ethelton” + employed in the consummation what was then a prospect, rather than a + reality—long-distance communication. + </p> + <p> + His work that summer consisted mainly of two extensive undertakings, one + of which he completed without delay. He still had the dramatic ambition, + and he believed that he was capable now of constructing a play entirely + from his own resources. + </p> + <p> + To Howells, in June, he wrote: + </p> + <p> + To-day I am deep in a comedy which I began this morning—principal + character an old detective. I skeletoned the first act and wrote the + second to-day, and am dog-tired now. Fifty-four pages of MS. in seven + hours. + </p> + <p> + Seven days later, the Fourth of July, he said: + </p> + <p> + I have piled up one hundred and fifty-one pages on my comedy. The first, + second and fourth acts are done, and done to my satisfaction, too. + To-morrow and next day will finish the third act, and the play. Never had + so much fun over anything in my life never such consuming interest and + delight. And just think! I had Sol Smith Russell in my mind's eye for the + old detective's part, and bang it! he has gone off pottering with Oliver + Optic, or else the papers lie. + </p> + <p> + He was working with enthusiasm, you see, believing in it with a faith + which, alas, was no warrant for its quality. Even Howells caught his + enthusiasm and became eager to see the play, and to have the story it + contained told for the Atlantic. + </p> + <p> + But in the end it proved a mistake. Dion Boucicault, when he read the + manuscript, pronounced it better than “Ah Sin,” but that was + only qualified praise. Actors who considered the play, anxious enough to + have Mark Twain's name on their posters and small bills, were obliged to + admit that, while it contained marvelous lines, it wouldn't “go.” + John Brougham wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There is an absolute “embarrassment of riches” in your “Detective” + most assuredly, but the difficulty is to put it into profitable + form. The quartz is there in abundance, only requiring the + necessary manipulation to extract the gold. + + In narrative structure the story would be full of life, character, + and the most exuberant fun, but it is altogether too diffuse in its + present condition for dramatic representation, and I confess I do + not feel sufficient confidence in my own experience (even if I had + the time, which on reflection I find I have not) to undertake what, + under different circumstances, would be a “labor of love.” + + Yours sincerely, JOHN BROUGHAM. +</pre> + <p> + That was frank, manly, and to the point; it covered the ground exactly. + “Simon Wheeler, the Amateur Detective,” had plenty of good + material in it—plenty of dialogue and situations; but the dialogue + wouldn't play, and the situations wouldn't act. Clemens realized that + perhaps the drama was not, after all, his forte; he dropped “Simon + Wheeler,” lost his interest in “Ah Sin,” even leased + “Colonel Sellers” for the coming season, and so, in a sort of + fury, put theatrical matters out of his mind. + </p> + <p> + He had entered upon what, for him, was a truer domain. One day he picked + up from among the books at the farm a little juvenile volume, an English + story of the thirteenth century by Charlotte M. Yonge, entitled, The + Prince and the Page. It was a story of Edward I. and his cousins, Richard + and Henry de Montfort; in part it told of the submerged personality of the + latter, picturing him as having dwelt in disguise as a blind beggar for a + period of years. It was a story of a sort and with a setting that Mark + Twain loved, and as he read there came a correlative idea. Not only would + he disguise a prince as a beggar, but a beggar as a prince. He would have + them change places in the world, and each learn the burdens of the other's + life.—[There is no point of resemblance between the Prince and the + Pauper and the tale that inspired it. No one would ever guess that the one + had grown out of the readings of the other, and no comparison of any sort + is possible between them.] + </p> + <p> + The plot presented physical difficulties. He still had some lurking + thought of stage performance, and saw in his mind a spectacular + presentation, with all the costumery of an early period as background for + a young and beautiful creature who would play the part of prince. The old + device of changelings in the cradle (later used in Pudd'nhead Wilson) + presented itself to him, but it could not provide the situations he had in + mind. Finally came the thought of a playful interchange of raiment and + state (with startling and unlooked-for consequence)—the guise and + personality of Tom Canty, of Offal Court, for those of the son of Henry + VIII., little Edward Tudor, more lately sixth English king of that name. + This little prince was not his first selection for the part. His original + idea had been to use the late King Edward VII. (then Prince of Wales) at + about fifteen, but he found that it would never answer to lose a prince + among the slums of modern London, and have his proud estate denied and + jeered at by a modern mob. He felt that he could not make it seem real; so + he followed back through history, looking along for the proper time and + prince, till he came to little Edward, who was too young—but no + matter, he would do. + </p> + <p> + He decided to begin his new venture in story form. He could dramatize it + later. The situation appealed to him immensely. The idea seemed a + brand-new one; it was delightful, it was fascinating, and he was saturated + with the atmosphere and literature and history—the data and detail + of that delightful old time. He put away all thought of cheap, modern + play-acting and writing, to begin one of the loveliest and most + entertaining and instructive tales of old English life. He decided to be + quite accurate in his picture of the period, and he posted himself on old + London very carefully. He bought a pocket-map which he studied in the + minutest detail. + </p> + <p> + He wrote about four hundred manuscript pages of the tale that summer; + then, as the inspiration seemed to lag a little, put it aside, as was his + habit, to wait until the ambition for it should be renewed. It was a long + wait, as usual. He did not touch it again for more than three years. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0119" id="link2H_4_0119"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXIII. TWO DOMESTIC DRAMAS + </h2> + <p> + Some unusual happenings took place that summer of 1877. John T. Lewis + (colored), already referred to as the religious antagonist of Auntie Cord, + by great presence of mind and bravery saved the lives of Mrs. Clemens's + sister-in-law, Mrs. Charles (“Charley”) Langdon, her little + daughter Julia, and her nurse-maid. They were in a buggy, and their + runaway horse was flying down East Hill toward Elmira to certain + destruction, when Lewis, laboring slowly homeward with a loaded wagon, saw + them coming and turned his team across the road, after which he leaped out + and with extraordinary strength and quickness grabbed the horse's bridle + and brought him to a standstill. The Clemens and Crane families, who had + seen the runaway start at the farm gate, arrived half wild with fear, only + to find the supposed victims entirely safe. + </p> + <p> + Everybody contributed in rewarding Lewis. He received money ($1,500) and + various other presents, including inscribed books and trinkets, also, what + he perhaps valued more than anything, a marvelous stem-winding gold watch. + Clemens, writing a full account to Dr. Brown of the watch, says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + And if any scoffer shall say, “behold this thing is out of + character,” there is an inscription within which will silence him; + for it will teach him that this wearer aggrandizes the watch, not + the watch the wearer. +</pre> + <p> + In another paragraph he says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When Lewis arrived the other evening, after having saved those lives + by a feat which I think is the most marvelous I can call to mind, + when he arrived hunched up on his manure-wagon and as grotesquely + picturesque as usual, everybody wanted to go and see how he looked. + They came back and said he was beautiful. It was so, too, and yet + he would have photographed exactly as he would have done any day + these past seven years that he has occupied this farm. +</pre> + <p> + Lewis acknowledged his gifts in a letter which closed with a paragraph of + rare native loftiness: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + But I beg to say, humbly, that inasmuch as divine Providence saw fit + to use me as an instrument for the saving of those preshious lives, + the honner conferd upon me was greater than the feat performed. +</pre> + <p> + Lewis lived to enjoy his prosperity, and the honor of the Clemens and + Langdon households, for twenty-nine years. When he was too old to work + there was a pension, to which Clemens contributed; also Henry H. Rogers. + So the simple-hearted, noble old negro closed his days in peace. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Crane, in a letter, late in July, 1906, told of his death: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He was always cheerful, and seemed not to suffer much pain, told + stories, and was able to eat almost everything. + + Three days ago a new difficulty appeared, on account of which his + doctor said he must go to the hospital for care such as it was quite + impossible to give in his home. + + He died on his way there. + + Thus it happened that he died on the road where he had performed his + great deed. +</pre> + <p> + A second unusual incident of that summer occurred in Hartford. There had + been a report of a strange man seen about the Clemens place, thought to be + a prospecting burglar, and Clemens went over to investigate. A little + searching inquiry revealed that the man was not a burglar, but a mechanic + out of employment, a lover of one of the house-maids, who had given him + food and shelter on the premises, intending no real harm. When the girl + found that her secret was discovered, she protested that he was her + fiance, though she said he appeared lately to have changed his mind and no + longer wished to marry her. + </p> + <p> + The girl seemed heartbroken, and sympathy for her was naturally the first + and about the only feeling which Clemens developed, for the time being. He + reasoned with the young man, but without making much headway. Finally his + dramatic instinct prompted him to a plan of a sort which would have + satisfied even Tom Sawyer. He asked Twichell to procure a license for the + couple, and to conceal himself in a ground floor bath-room. He arranged + with the chief of police to be on hand in another room; with the rest of + the servants quietly to prepare a wedding-feast, and finally with Lizzie + herself to be dressed for the ceremony. He had already made an appointment + with the young man to come to see him at a certain hour on a “matter + of business,” and the young man arrived in the belief, no doubt, + that it was something which would lead to profitable employment. When he + came in Clemens gently and quietly reviewed the situation, told him of the + young girl's love for him; how he had been sheltered and fed by her; how + through her kindness to him she had compromised her reputation for honesty + and brought upon her all the suspicion of having sheltered a burglar; how + she was ready and willing to marry him, and how he (Clemens) was ready to + assist them to obtain work and a start in life. + </p> + <p> + But the young man was not enthusiastic. He was a Swede and slow of action. + He resolutely declared that he was not ready to marry yet, and in the end + refused to do so. Then came the dramatic moment. Clemens quietly but + firmly informed him that the wedding ceremony must take place; that by + infesting his premises he had broken the law, not only against trespass, + but most likely against house-breaking. There was a brief discussion of + this point. Finally Clemens gave him five minutes to make up his mind, + with the statement that he had an officer in waiting, and unless he would + consent to the wedding he would be taken in charge. The young man began to + temporize, saying that it would be necessary for him to get a license and + a preacher. But Clemens stepped to the door of the bath-room, opened it, + and let out Twichell, who had been sweltering there in that fearful place + for more than an hour, it being August. The delinquent lover found himself + confronted with all the requisites of matrimony except the bride, and just + then this detail appeared on the scene, dressed for the occasion. Behind + her ranged the rest of the servants and a few invited guests. Before the + young man knew it he had a wife, and on the whole did not seem displeased. + It ended with a gay supper and festivities. Then Clemens started them + handsomely by giving each of them a check for one hundred dollars; and in + truth (which in this case, at least, is stranger than fiction) they lived + happily and prosperously ever after. + </p> + <p> + Some years later Mark Twain based a story on this episode, but it was + never entirely satisfactory and remains unpublished. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0120" id="link2H_4_0120"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXIV. THE WHITTIER BIRTHDAY SPEECH + </h2> + <p> + It was the night of December 17, 1877, that Mark Twain made his + unfortunate speech at the dinner given by the Atlantic staff to John G. + Whittier on his seventieth birthday. Clemens had attended a number of the + dinners which the Atlantic gave on one occasion or another, and had + provided a part of the entertainment. It is only fair to say that his + after-dinner speeches at such times had been regarded as very special + events, genuine triumphs of humor and delivery. But on this particular + occasion he determined to outdo himself, to prepare something unusual, + startling, something altogether unheard of. + </p> + <p> + When Mark Twain had an impulse like that it was possible for it to result + in something dangerous, especially in those earlier days. This time it + produced a bombshell; not just an ordinary bombshell, or even a + twelve-inch projectile, but a shell of planetary size. It was a sort of + hoax-always a doubtful plaything—and in this case it brought even + quicker and more terrible retribution than usual. It was an imaginary + presentation of three disreputable frontier tramps who at some time had + imposed themselves on a lonely miner as Longfellow, Emerson, and Holmes, + quoting apposite selections from their verses to the accompaniment of + cards and drink, and altogether conducting themselves in a most unsavory + fashion. At the end came the enlightenment that these were not what they + pretended to be, but only impostors—disgusting frauds. A feature + like that would be a doubtful thing to try in any cultured atmosphere. The + thought of associating, ever so remotely, those three old bummers which he + had conjured up with the venerable and venerated Emerson, Longfellow, and + Holmes, the Olympian trinity, seems ghastly enough to-day, and must have + seemed even more so then. But Clemens, dazzled by the rainbow splendor of + his conception, saw in it only a rare colossal humor, which would fairly + lift and bear his hearers along on a tide of mirth. He did not show his + effort to any one beforehand. He wanted its full beauty to burst upon the + entire company as a surprise. + </p> + <p> + It did that. Howells was toastmaster, and when he came to present Clemens + he took particular pains to introduce him as one of his foremost + contributors and dearest friends. Here, he said, was “a humorist who + never left you hanging your head for having enjoyed his joke.” + </p> + <p> + Thirty years later Clemens himself wrote of his impressions as he rose to + deliver his speech. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I vaguely remember some of the details of that gathering: dimly I + can see a hundred people—no, perhaps fifty—shadowy figures, + sitting at tables feeding, ghosts now to me, and nameless + forevermore. I don't know who they were, but I can very distinctly + see, seated at the grand table and facing the rest of us, Mr. + Emerson, supernaturally grave, unsmiling; Mr. Whittier, grave, + lovely, his beautiful spirit shining out of his face; Mr. + Longfellow, with his silken-white hair and his benignant face; Dr. + Oliver Wendell Holmes, flashing smiles and affection and all good- + fellowship everywhere, like a rose-diamond whose facets are being + turned toward the light, first one way and then another—a charming + man, and always fascinating, whether he was talking or whether he + was sitting still (what he would call still, but what would be more + or less motion to other people). I can see those figures with + entire distinctness across this abyss of time. +</pre> + <p> + William Winter, the poet, had just preceded him, and it seemed a moment + aptly chosen for his so-different theme. “And then,” to quote + Howells, “the amazing mistake, the bewildering blunder, the cruel + catastrophe was upon us.” + </p> + <p> + After the first two or three hundred words, when the general plan and + purpose of the burlesque had developed, when the names of Longfellow, + Emerson, and Holmes began to be flung about by those bleary outcasts, and + their verses given that sorry association, those Atlantic diners became + petrified with amazement and horror. Too late, then, the speaker realized + his mistake. He could not stop, he must go on to the ghastly end. And + somehow he did it, while “there fell a silence weighing many tons to + the square inch, which deepened from moment to moment, and was broken only + by the hysterical and blood-curdling laughter of a single guest, whose + name shall not be handed down to infamy.” + </p> + <p> + Howells can remember little more than that, but Clemens recalls that one + speaker made an effort to follow him—Bishop, the novelist, and that + Bishop didn't last long. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It was not many sentences after his first before he began to + hesitate and break, and lose his grip, and totter and wobble, and at + last he slumped down in a limp and mushy pile. +</pre> + <p> + The next man had not strength to rise, and somehow the company broke up. + </p> + <p> + Howells's next recollection is of being in a room of the hotel, and of + hearing Charles Dudley Warner saying in the gloom: + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mark, you're a funny fellow.” + </p> + <p> + He remembers how, after a sleepless night, Clemens went out to buy some + bric-a-brac, with a soul far from bric-a-brac, and returned to Hartford in + a writhing agony of spirit. He believed that he was ruined forever, so far + as his Boston associations were concerned; and when he confessed all the + tragedy to Mrs. Clemens it seemed to her also that the mistake could never + be wholly repaired. The fact that certain papers quoted the speech and + spoke well of it, and certain readers who had not listened to it thought + it enormously funny, gave very little comfort. But perhaps his chief + concern was the ruin which he believed he had brought upon Howells. He put + his heart into a brief letter: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MY DEAR HOWELLS,—My sense of disgrace does not abate. It grows. + I see that it is going to add itself to my list of permanencies, a + list of humiliations that extends back to when I was seven years + old, and which keep on persecuting me regardless of my repentances. + + I feel that my misfortune has injured me all over the country; + therefore it will be best that I retire from before the public at + present. It will hurt the Atlantic for me to appear in its pages + now. So it is my opinion, and my wife's, that the telephone story + had better be suppressed. Will you return those proofs or revises + to me, so that I can use the same on some future occasion? + + It seems as if I must have been insane when I wrote that speech and + saw no harm in it, no disrespect toward those men whom I reverenced + so much. And what shame I brought upon you, after what you said in + introducing me! It burns me like fire to think of it. + + The whole matter is a dreadful subject. Let me drop it here—at + least on paper. + + Penitently yours, MARK +</pre> + <p> + So, all in a moment, his world had come to an end—as it seemed. But + Howells's letter, which came rushing back by first mail, brought hope. + </p> + <p> + “It was a fatality,” Howells said. “One of those sorrows + into which a man walks with his eyes wide open, no one knows why.” + </p> + <p> + Howells assured him that Longfellow, Emerson, and Holmes would so consider + it, beyond doubt; that Charles Eliot Norton had already expressed himself + exactly in the right spirit concerning it. Howells declared that there was + no intention of dropping Mark Twain's work from the Atlantic. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + You are not going to be floored by it; there is more justice than + that even in this world. Especially as regards me, just call the + sore spot well. I can say more, and with better heart, in praise of + your good feeling (which was what I always liked in you), since this + thing happened than I could before. +</pre> + <p> + It was agreed that he should at once write a letter to Longfellow, + Emerson, and Holmes, and he did write, laying his heart bare to them. + Longfellow and Holmes answered in a fine spirit of kindliness, and Miss + Emerson wrote for her father in the same tone. Emerson had not been + offended, for he had not heard the speech, having arrived even then at + that stage of semi-oblivion as to immediate things which eventually so + completely shut him away. Longfellow's letter made light of the whole + matter. The newspapers, he said, had caused all the mischief. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A bit of humor at a dinner-table talk is one thing; a report of it + in the morning papers is another. One needs the lamplight and the + scenery. These failing, what was meant in jest assumes a serious + aspect. + + I do not believe that anybody was much hurt. Certainly I was not, + and Holmes tells me that he was not. So I think you may dismiss the + matter from your mind, without further remorse. + + It was a very pleasant dinner, and I think Whittier enjoyed it very + much. +</pre> + <p> + Holmes likewise referred to it as a trifle. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It never occurred to me for a moment to take offense, or to feel + wounded by your playful use of my name. I have heard some mild + questioning as to whether, even in fun, it was good taste to + associate the names of the authors with the absurdly unlike + personalities attributed to them, but it seems to be an open + question. Two of my friends, gentlemen of education and the highest + social standing, were infinitely amused by your speech, and stoutly + defended it against the charge of impropriety. More than this, one + of the cleverest and best-known ladies we have among us was highly + delighted with it. +</pre> + <p> + Miss Emerson's letter was to Mrs. Clemens and its homelike New England + fashion did much to lift the gloom. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR MRS. CLEMENS,—At New Year's our family always meets, to spend + two days together. To-day my father came last, and brought with him + Mr. Clemens's letter, so that I read it to the assembled family, and + I have come right up-stairs to write to you about it. My sister + said, “Oh, let father write!” but my mother said, “No, don't wait + for him. Go now; don't stop to pick that up. Go this minute and + write. I think that is a noble letter. Tell them so.” First let + me say that no shadow of indignation has ever been in any of our + minds. The night of the dinner, my father says, he did not hear Mr. + Clemens's speech. He was too far off, and my mother says that when + she read it to him the next day it amused him. But what you will + want is to know, without any softening, how we did feel. We were + disappointed. We have liked almost everything we have ever seen + over Mark Twain's signature. It has made us like the man, and we + have delighted in the fun. Father has often asked us to repeat + certain passages of The Innocents Abroad, and of a speech at a + London dinner in 1872, and we all expect both to approve and to + enjoy when we see his name. Therefore, when we read this speech it + was a real disappointment. I said to my brother that it didn't seem + good or funny, and he said, “No, it was unfortunate. Still some of + those quotations were very good”; and he gave them with relish and + my father laughed, though never having seen a card in his life, he + couldn't understand them like his children. My mother read it + lightly and had hardly any second thoughts about it. To my father + it is as if it had not been; he never quite heard, never quite + understood it, and he forgets easily and entirely. I think it + doubtful whether he writes to Mr. Clemens, for he is old and long + ago gave up answering letters, I think you can see just how bad, and + how little bad, it was as far as we are concerned, and this lovely + heartbreaking letter makes up for our disappointment in our much- + liked author, and restores our former feeling about him. + + ELLEN T. EMERSON. +</pre> + <p> + The sorrow dulled a little as the days passed. Just after Christmas + Clemens wrote to Howells: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I haven't done a stroke of work since the Atlantic dinner. But I'm + going to try to-morrow. How could I ever—— + + Ah, well, I am a great and sublime fool. But then I am God's fool, + and all his work must be contemplated with respect. +</pre> + <p> + So long as that unfortunate speech is remembered there will be differences + of opinion as to its merits and propriety. Clemens himself, reading it for + the first time in nearly thirty years, said: + </p> + <p> + “I find it gross, coarse—well, I needn't go on with + particulars. I don't like any part of it, from the beginning to the end. I + find it always offensive and detestable. How do I account for this change + of view? I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + But almost immediately afterward he gave it another consideration and + reversed his opinion completely. All the spirit and delight of his old + first conception returned, and preparing it for publication, he wrote: + —[North American Review, December, 1907, now with comment included + in the volume of “Speeches.” (Also see Appendix O, at the end + of last volume.)—I have read it twice, and unless I am an idiot it + hasn't a single defect in it, from the first word to the last. It is just + as good as good can be. It is smart; it is saturated with humor. There + isn't a suggestion of coarseness or vulgarity in it anywhere.] + </p> + <p> + It was altogether like Mark Twain to have those two absolutely opposing + opinions in that brief time; for, after all, it was only a question of the + human point of view, and Mark Twain's points of view were likely to be as + extremely human as they were varied. + </p> + <p> + Of course the first of these impressions, the verdict of the fresh mind + uninfluenced by the old conception, was the more correct one. The speech + was decidedly out of place in that company. The skit was harmless enough, + but it was of the Comstock grain. It lacked refinement, and, what was + still worse, it lacked humor, at least the humor of a kind suited to that + long-ago company of listeners. It was another of those grievous mistakes + which genius (and not talent) can make, for genius is a sort of + possession. The individual is pervaded, dominated for a time by an angel + or an imp, and he seldom, of himself, is able to discriminate between his + controls. A literary imp was always lying in wait for Mark Twain; the imp + of the burlesque, tempting him to do the 'outre', the outlandish, the + shocking thing. It was this that Olivia Clemens had to labor hardest + against: the cheapening of his own high purpose with an extravagant false + note, at which sincerity, conviction, and artistic harmony took wings and + fled away. Notably he did a good burlesque now and then, but his fame + would not have suffered if he had been delivered altogether from his + besetting temptation. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0121" id="link2H_4_0121"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXV. HARTFORD AND BILLIARDS + </h2> + <p> + Clemens was never much inclined to work, away from his Elmira study. + “Magnanimous Incident Literature” (for the Atlantic) was about + his only completed work of the winter of 1877-78. He was always tinkering + with the “Visit to Heaven,” and after one reconstruction + Howells suggested that he bring it out as a book, in England, with Dean + Stanley's indorsement, though this may have been only semi-serious + counsel. The story continued to lie in seclusion. + </p> + <p> + Clemens had one new book in the field—a small book, but profitable. + Dan Slote's firm issued for him the Mark Twain Scrap-book, and at the end + of the first royalty period rendered a statement of twenty-five thousand + copies sold, which was well enough for a book that did not contain a + single word that critics could praise or condemn. Slote issued another + little book for him soon after “Punch, Brothers, Punch!”which, + besides that lively sketch, contained the “Random Notes” and + seven other selections. + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain was tempted to go into the lecture field that winter, not by + any of the offers, though these were numerous enough, but by the idea of a + combination which he thought might be not only profitable but pleasant. + Thomas Nast had made a great success of his caricature lectures, and + Clemens, recalling Nast's long-ago proposal, found it newly attractive. He + wrote characteristically: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MY DEAR NAST,—I did not think I should ever stand on a platform + again until the time was come for me to say, “I die innocent.” But + the same old offers keep arriving. I have declined them all, just + as usual, though sorely tempted, as usual. + + Now, I do not decline because I mind talking to an audience, but + because (1) traveling alone is so heartbreakingly dreary, and (2) + shouldering the whole show is such a cheer-killing responsibility. + + Therefore, I now propose to you what you proposed to me in 1867, ten + years ago (when I was unknown)—viz., that you stand on the platform + and make pictures, and I stand by you and blackguard the audience. + I should enormously enjoy meandering around (to big towns—don't + want to go to the little ones), with you for company. + + My idea is not to fatten the lecture agents and lyceums on the + spoils, but to put all the ducats religiously into two equal piles, + and say to the artist and lecturer, “absorb these.” + + For instance, [here follows a plan and a possible list of the cities + to be visited]. The letter continues: + + Call the gross receipts $100,000 for four months and a half, and the + profit from $60,000 to $75,000 (I try to make the figures large + enough, and leave it to the public to reduce them). + + I did not put in Philadelphia because Pugh owns that town, and last + winter, when I made a little reading-trip, he only paid me $300, and + pretended his concert (I read fifteen minutes in the midst of a + concert) cost him a vast sum, and so he couldn't afford any more. + I could get up a better concert with a barrel of cats. + + I have imagined two or three pictures and concocted the accompanying + remarks, to see how the thing would go. I was charmed. + + Well, you think it over, Nast, and drop me a line. We should have + some fun. +</pre> + <p> + Undoubtedly this would have been a profitable combination, but Nast had a + distaste for platforming—had given it up, as he thought, for life. + So Clemens settled down to the fireside days, that afforded him always the + larger comfort. The children were at an age “to be entertaining, and + to be entertained.” In either case they furnished him plenty of + diversion when he did not care to write. They had learned his gift as a + romancer, and with this audience he might be as extravagant as he liked. + They sometimes assisted by furnishing subjects. They would bring him a + picture, requiring him to invent a story for it without a moment's delay. + Sometimes they suggested the names of certain animals or objects, and + demanded that these be made into a fairy tale. If they heard the name of + any new creature or occupation they were likely to offer them as impromptu + inspiration. Once he was suddenly required to make a story out of a + plumber and a “bawgunstrictor,” but he was equal to it. On one + side of the library, along the book-shelves that joined the mantelpiece, + were numerous ornaments and pictures. At one end was the head of a girl, + that they called “Emeline,” and at the other was an + oil-painting of a cat. When other subjects failed, the romancer was + obliged to build a story impromptu, and without preparation, beginning + with the cat, working along through the bric-a-brac, and ending with + “Emeline.” This was the unvarying program. He was not allowed + to begin with “Emeline” and end with the cat, and he was not + permitted to introduce an ornament from any other portion of the room. He + could vary the story as much as he liked. In fact, he was required to do + that. The trend of its chapters, from the cat to “Emeline,” + was a well-trodden and ever-entertaining way. + </p> + <p> + He gave up his luxurious study to the children as a sort of nursery and + playroom, and took up his writing-quarters, first in a room over the + stables, then in the billiard-room, which, on the whole, he preferred to + any other place, for it was a third-story remoteness, and he could knock + the balls about for inspiration. + </p> + <p> + The billiard-room became his headquarters. He received his callers there + and impressed them into the game. If they could play, well and good; if + they could not play, so much the better—he could beat them + extravagantly, and he took a huge delight in such conquests. Every Friday + evening, or oftener, a small party of billiard-lovers gathered, and played + until a late hour, told stories, and smoked till the room was blue, + comforting themselves with hot Scotch and general good-fellowship. Mark + Twain always had a genuine passion for billiards. He was never tired of + the game. He could play all night. He would stay till the last man gave + out from sheer weariness; then he would go on knocking the balls about + alone. He liked to invent new games and new rules for old games, often + inventing a rule on the spur of the moment to fit some particular shot or + position on the table. It amused him highly to do this, to make the rule + advantage his own play, and to pretend a deep indignation when his + opponents disqualified his rulings and rode him down. S. C. Dunham was + among those who belonged to the “Friday Evening Club,” as they + called it, and Henry C. Robinson, long dead, and rare Ned Bunce, and F. G. + Whitmore; and the old room there at the top of the house, with its little + outside balcony, rang with their voices and their laughter in that day + when life and the world for them was young. Clemens quoted to them + sometimes: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Come, fill the cup, and in the fire of spring + Your winter garment of repentance fling; + The bird of time has but a little way + To flutter, and the bird is on the wing. +</pre> + <p> + Omar was new then on this side of the Atlantic, and to his serene “eat, + drink, and be merry” philosophy, in Fitzgerald's rhyme, these were + early converts. Mark Twain had an impressive, musical delivery of verse; + the players were willing at any moment to listen as he recited: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + For some we loved, the loveliest and best + That from his vintage rolling time has prest, + Have drunk their cup a round or two before, + And one by one crept silently to rest. + Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend, + Before we too into the dust descend; + Dust unto dust, and under dust to lie, + Sans wine, sans song, sans singer, and—sans End.' +—[The 'Rubaiyat' had made its first appearance, in Hartford, a little +before in a column of extracts published in the Courant.] Twichell +immediately wrote Clemens a card: +</pre> + <p> + “Read (if you haven't) the extracts from Oman Khayyam, on the first + page of this morning's Courant. I think we'll have to get the book. I + never yet came across anything that uttered certain thoughts of mine so + adequately. And it's only a translation. Read it, and we'll talk it over. + There is something in it very like the passage of Emerson you read me last + night, in fact identical with it in thought. + </p> + <p> + “Surely this Omar was a great poet. Anyhow, he has given me an + immense revelation this morning. + </p> + <p> + “Hoping that you are better, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + J. H. T.” + </pre> + <p> + Twichell's “only a translation” has acquired a certain humor + with time. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0122" id="link2H_4_0122"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXVI. OFF FOR GERMANY + </h2> + <p> + The German language became one of the interests of the Clemens home during + the early months of 1878. The Clemenses had long looked forward to a + sojourn in Europe, and the demand for another Mark Twain book of travel + furnished an added reason for their going. They planned for the spring + sailing, and to spend a year or more on the Continent, making their + headquarters in Germany. So they entered into the study of the language + with an enthusiasm and perseverance that insured progress. There was a + German nurse for the children, and the whole atmosphere of the household + presently became lingually Teutonic. It amused Mark Twain, as everything + amused him, but he was a good student; he acquired a working knowledge of + the language in an extraordinarily brief time, just as in an earlier day + he had picked up piloting. He would never become a German scholar, but his + vocabulary and use of picturesque phrases, particularly those that + combined English and German words, were often really startling, not only + for their humor, but for their expressiveness. + </p> + <p> + Necessarily the new study would infect his literature. He conceived a plan + for making Captain Wakeman (Stormfield) come across a copy of Ollendorf in + Heaven, and proceed to learn the language of a near-lying district. + </p> + <p> + They arranged to sail early in April, and, as on their former trip, + persuaded Miss Clara Spaulding, of Elmira, to accompany them. They wrote + to the Howellses, breaking the news of the journey, urging them to come to + Hartford for a good-by visit. Howells and his wife came. The Twichells, + Warners, and other Hartford friends paid repeated farewell calls. The + furniture was packed, the rooms desolated, the beautiful home made ready + for closing. + </p> + <p> + They were to have pleasant company on the ship. Bayard Taylor, then + recently appointed Minister to Germany, wrote that he had planned to sail + on the same vessel; Murat Halstead's wife and daughter were listed among + the passengers. Clemens made a brief speech at Taylor's “farewell + dinner.” + </p> + <p> + The “Mark Twain” party, consisting of Mr. and Mrs. Clemens, + Miss Spaulding, little Susy and Clara (“Bay”), and a + nurse-maid, Rosa, sailed on the Holsatia, April 11, 1878. Bayard Taylor + and the Halstead ladies also sailed, as per program; likewise Murat + Halstead himself, for whom no program had been made. There was a storm + outside, and the Holsatia anchored down the bay to wait until the worst + was over. As the weather began to moderate Halstead and others came down + in a tug for a final word of good-by. When the tug left, Halstead somehow + managed to get overlooked, and was presently on his way across the ocean + with only such wardrobe as he had on, and what Bayard Taylor, a large man + like himself, was willing to lend him. Halstead was accused of having + intentionally allowed himself to be left behind, and his case did have a + suspicious look; but in any event they were glad to have him along. + </p> + <p> + In a written word of good-by to Howells, Clemens remembered a debt of + gratitude, and paid it in the full measure that was his habit. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + And that reminds me, ungrateful dog that I am, that I owe as much to + your training as the rude country job-printer owes to the city boss + who takes him in hand and teaches him the right way to handle his + art. I was talking to Mrs. Clemens about this the other day, and + grieving because I never mentioned it to you, thereby seeming to + ignore it or to be unaware of it. Nothing that has passed under + your eye needs any revision before going into a volume, while all my + other stuff does need so much. +</pre> + <p> + In that ancient day, before the wireless telegraph, the voyager, when the + land fell away behind him, felt a mighty sense of relief and rest, which + to some extent has gone now forever. He cannot entirely escape the world + in this new day; but then he had a complete sense of dismissal from all + encumbering cares of life. Among the first note-book entries Mark Twain + wrote: + </p> + <p> + To go abroad has something of the same sense that death brings—“I + am no longer of ye; what ye say of me is now of no consequence—but + of how much consequence when I am with ye and of ye. I know you will + refrain from saying harsh things because they cannot hurt me, since I am + out of reach and cannot hear them. This is why we say no harsh things of + the dead.” + </p> + <p> + It was a rough voyage outside, but the company made it pleasant within. + Halstead and Taylor were good smoking-room companions. Taylor had a large + capacity for languages and a memory that was always a marvel. He would + repeat for them Arabian, Hungarian, and Russian poetry, and show them the + music and construction of it. He sang German folk-lore songs for them, and + the “Lorelei,” then comparatively unknown in America. Such was + his knowledge of the language that even educated Germans on board + submitted questions of construction to him and accepted his decisions. He + was wisely chosen for the mission he had to fill, but unfortunately he did + not fill it long. Both Halstead and Taylor were said to have heart + trouble. Halstead, however, survived many years. Taylor died December 19, + 1878. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0123" id="link2H_4_0123"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXVII. GERMANY AND GERMAN + </h2> + <h3> + From the note-book: + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It is a marvel that never loses its surprise by repetition, this + aiming a ship at a mark three thousand miles away and hitting the + bull's-eye in a fog—as we did. When the fog fell on us the captain + said we ought to be at such and such a spot (it had been eighteen + hours since an observation was had), with the Scilly islands bearing + so and so, and about so many miles away. Hove the lead and got + forty-eight fathoms; looked on the chart, and sure enough this depth + of water showed that we were right where the captain said we were. + + Another idea. For ages man probably did not know why God carpeted + the ocean bottom with sand in one place, shells in another, and so + on. But we see now; the kind of bottom the lead brings up shows + where a ship is when the soundings don't, and also it confirms the + soundings. +</pre> + <p> + They reached Hamburg after two weeks' stormy sailing. They rested a few + days there, then went to Hanover and Frankfort, arriving at Heidelberg + early in May. + </p> + <p> + They had no lodgings selected in Heidelberg, and leaving the others at an + inn, Clemens set out immediately to find apartments. Chance or direction, + or both, led him to the beautiful Schloss Hotel, on a hill overlooking the + city, and as fair a view as one may find in all Germany. He did not go + back after his party. He sent a message telling them to take carriage and + drive at once to the Schloss, then he sat down to enjoy the view. + </p> + <p> + Coming up the hill they saw him standing on the veranda, waving his hat in + welcome. He led them to their rooms—spacious apartments—and + pointed to the view. They were looking down on beautiful Heidelberg + Castle, densely wooded hills, the far-flowing Neckar, and the + haze-empurpled valley of the Rhine. By and by, pointing to a small cottage + on the hilltop, he said: + </p> + <p> + “I have been picking out my little house to work in; there it is + over there; the one with the gable in the roof. Mine is the middle room on + the third floor.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Clemens thought the occupants of the house might be surprised if he + should suddenly knock and tell them he had come to take possession of his + room. Nevertheless, they often looked over in that direction and referred + to it as his office. They amused themselves by watching his “people” + and trying to make out what they were like. One day he went over there, + and sure enough there was a sign out, “Moblirte Wohnung zu + Vermiethen.” A day or two later he was established in the very room + he had selected, it being the only room but one vacant. + </p> + <p> + In A Tramp Abroad Mark Twain tells of the beauty of their Heidelberg + environment. To Howells he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Our bedroom has two great glass bird-cages (inclosed balconies), one + looking toward the Rhine Valley and sunset, the other looking up the + Neckar cul-de-sac, and naturally we spend nearly all our time in + these. We have tables and chairs in them; we do our reading, + writing, studying, smoking, and suppering in them.... It + must have been a noble genius who devised this hotel. Lord, how + blessed is the repose, the tranquillity of this place! Only two + sounds: the happy clamor of the birds in the groves and the muffled + music of the Neckar tumbling over the opposing dikes. It is no + hardship to lie awake awhile nights, for this subdued roar has + exactly the sound of a steady rain beating upon a roof. It is so + healing to the spirit; and it bears up the thread of one's + imaginings as the accompaniment bears up a song.... + + I have waited for a “call” to go to work—I knew it would come. + Well, it began to come a week ago; my note-book comes out more and + more frequently every day since; three days ago I concluded to move + my manuscripts over to my den. Now the call is loud and decided at + last. So to-morrow I shall begin regular, steady work, and stick to + it till the middle of July or August 1st, when I look for Twichell; + we will then walk about Germany two or three weeks, and then I'll go + to work again (perhaps in Munich). +</pre> + <p> + The walking tour with Twichell had been contemplated in the scheme for + gathering book material, but the plan for it had not been completed when + he left Hartford. Now he was anxious that they should start as soon as + possible. Twichell, receiving the news in Hartford, wrote that it was a + great day for him: that his third son had been happily born early that + morning, and now the arrival of this glorious gift of a tramp through + Germany and Switzerland completed his blessings. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I am almost too joyful for pleasure [he wrote]. I labor with my + felicities. How I shall get to sleep to-night I don't know, though + I have had a good start, in not having slept much last night. Oh, + my! do you realize, Mark, what a symposium it is to be? I do. To + begin with, I am thoroughly tired and the rest will be worth + everything. To walk with you and talk with you for weeks together + —why, it's my dream of luxury. Harmony, who at sunrise this morning + deemed herself the happiest woman on the Continent when I read your + letter to her, widened her smile perceptibly, and revived another + degree of strength in a minute. She refused to consider her being + left alone; but: only the great chance opened to me. + + SHOES—Mark, remember that ever so much of our pleasure depends upon + your shoes. Don't fail to have adequate preparation made in that + department. +</pre> + <p> + Meantime, the struggle with the “awful German language” went + on. It was a general hand-to-hand contest. From the head of the household + down to little Clara not one was exempt. To Clemens it became a sort of + nightmare. Once in his note-book he says: + </p> + <p> + “Dreamed all bad foreigners went to German heaven; couldn't talk, + and wished they had gone to the other place”; and a little farther + along, “I wish I could hear myself talk German.” + </p> + <p> + To Mrs. Crane, in Elmira, he reported their troubles: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Clara Spaulding is working herself to death with her German; never + loses an instant while she is awake—or asleep, either, for that + matter; dreams of enormous serpents, who poke their heads up under + her arms and glare upon her with red-hot eyes, and inquire about the + genitive case and the declensions of the definite article. Livy is + bully-ragging herself about as hard; pesters over her grammar and + her reader and her dictionary all day; then in the evening these two + students stretch themselves out on sofas and sigh and say, “Oh, + there's no use! We never can learn it in the world!” Then Livy + takes a sentence to go to bed on: goes gaping and stretching to her + pillow murmuring, “Ich bin Ihnen sehr verbunden—Ich bin Ihnen sehr + verbunden—Ich bin Ihnen sehr verbunden—I wonder if I can get that + packed away so it will stay till morning”—and about an hour after + midnight she wakes me up and says, “I do so hate to disturb you, but + is it 'Ich Ben Jonson sehr befinden'?” + </pre> + <p> + And Mrs. Clemens wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Oh, Sue dear, strive to enter in at the straight gate, for many + shall seek to enter it and shall not be able. I am not striving + these days. I am just interested in German. +</pre> + <p> + Rosa, the maid, was required to speak to the children only in German, + though Bay at first would have none of it. The nurse and governess tried + to blandish her, in vain. She maintained a calm and persistent attitude of + scorn. Little Susy tried, and really made progress; but one day she said, + pathetically: + </p> + <p> + “Mama, I wish Rosa was made in English.” + </p> + <p> + Yet a little later Susy herself wrote her Aunt Sue: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I know a lot of German; everybody says I know a lot. I give you a + million dollars to see you, and you would give two hundred dollars + to see the lovely woods that we see. +</pre> + <p> + Even Howells, in far-off America, caught the infection and began a letter + in German, though he hastened to add, “Or do you prefer English by + this time? Really I could imagine the German going hard with you, for you + always seemed to me a man who liked to be understood with the least + possible personal inconvenience.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens declared more than once that he scorned the “outrageous and + impossible German grammar,” and abandoned it altogether. In his + note-book he records how two Germans, strangers in Heidelberg, asked him a + direction, and that when he gave it, in the most elaborate and correct + German he could muster, one of them only lifted his eyes and murmured: + </p> + <p> + “Gott im Himmel!” + </p> + <p> + He was daily impressed with the lingual attainments of foreigners and his + own lack of them. In the notes he comments: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Am addressed in German, and when I can't speak it immediately the + person tackles me in French, and plainly shows astonishment when I + stop him. They naturally despise such an ignoramus. Our doctor + here speaks as pure English, as I. +</pre> + <p> + On the Fourth of July he addressed the American students in Heidelberg in + one of those mixtures of tongues for which he had a peculiar gift. + </p> + <p> + The room he had rented for a study was let by a typical German family, and + he was a great delight to them. He practised his German on them, and + interested himself in their daily affairs. + </p> + <p> + Howells wrote insistently for some assurance of contributions to the + Atlantic. + </p> + <p> + “I must begin printing your private letters to satisfy the popular + demand,” he said. “People are constantly asking when you are + going to begin.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens replied that he would be only too glad to write for the Atlantic + if his contributions could be copyrighted in Canada, where pirates were + persistently enterprising. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I do not know that I have any printable stuff just now—separatable + stuff, that is—but I shall have by and by. It is very gratifying to + hear that it is wanted by anybody. I stand always prepared to hear the + reverse, and am constantly surprised that it is delayed so long. + Consequently it is not going to astonish me when it comes." + </pre> + <p> + The Clemens party enjoyed Heidelberg, though in different ways. The + children romped and picnicked in the castle grounds, which adjoined the + hotel; Mrs. Clemens and Miss Spaulding were devoted to bric-a-brac + hunting, picture-galleries, and music. Clemens took long walks, or made + excursions by rail and diligence to farther points. Art and opera did not + appeal to him. The note-book says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have attended operas, whenever I could not help it, for fourteen + years now; I am sure I know of no agony comparable to the listening + to an unfamiliar opera. I am enchanted with the airs of “Trovatore” + and other old operas which the hand-organ and the music-box have + made entirely familiar to my ear. I am carried away with delighted + enthusiasm when they are sung at the opera. But oh, how far between + they are! And what long, arid, heartbreaking and headaching + “between-times” of that sort of intense but incoherent noise which + always so reminds me of the time the orphan asylum burned down. + + Sunday night, 11th. Huge crowd out to-night to hear the band play + the “Fremersberg.” I suppose it is very low-grade music—I know it + must be low-grade music—because it so delighted me, it so warmed + me, moved me, stirred me, uplifted me, enraptured me, that at times + I could have cried, and at others split my throat with shouting. + The great crowd was another evidence that it was low-grade music, + for only the few are educated up to a point where high-class music + gives pleasure. I have never heard enough classic music to be able + to enjoy it, and the simple truth is I detest it. Not mildly, but + with all my heart. + + What a poor lot we human beings are anyway! If base music gives me + wings, why should I want any other? But I do. I want to like the + higher music because the higher and better like it. But you see I + want to like it without taking the necessary trouble, and giving the + thing the necessary amount of time and attention. The natural + suggestion is, to get into that upper tier, that dress-circle, by a + lie—we will pretend we like it. This lie, this pretense, gives to + opera what support it has in America. + + And then there is painting. What a red rag is to a bull Turner's + “Slave Ship” is to me. Mr. Ruskin is educated in art up to a point + where that picture throws him into as mad an ecstasy of pleasure as + it throws me into one of rage. His cultivation enables him to see + water in that yellow mud; his cultivation reconciles the floating of + unfloatable things to him—chains etc.; it reconciles him to fishes + swimming on top of the water. The most of the picture is a manifest + impossibility, that is to say, a lie; and only rigid cultivation can + enable a man to find truth in a lie. A Boston critic said the + “Slave Ship” reminded him of a cat having a fit in a platter of + tomatoes. That went home to my non-cultivation, and I thought, here + is a man with an unobstructed eye. +</pre> + <p> + Mark Twain has dwelt somewhat upon these matters in 'A Tramp Abroad'. He + confesses in that book that later he became a great admirer of Turner, + though perhaps never of the “Slave Ship” picture. In fact, + Mark Twain was never artistic, in the common acceptance of that term; + neither his art nor his tastes were of an “artistic” kind. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0124" id="link2H_4_0124"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXVIII. TRAMPING WITH TWICHELL. + </h2> + <p> + Clemens met him at Baden-Baden, and they immediately set out on a tramp + through the Black Forest, excursioning as pleased them, and having an + idyllic good time. They did not always walk, but they often did. At least + they did sometimes, when the weather was just right and Clemens's + rheumatism did not trouble him. But they were likely to take a carriage, + or a donkey-cart, or a train, or any convenient thing that happened along. + They did not hurry, but idled and talked and gathered flowers, or gossiped + with wayside natives and tourists, though always preferring to wander + along together, beguiling the way with discussion and speculation and + entertaining tales. They crossed on into Switzerland in due time and + considered the conquest of the Alps. The family followed by rail or + diligence, and greeted them here and there when they rested from their + wanderings. Mark Twain found an immunity from attention in Switzerland, + which for years he had not known elsewhere. His face was not so well known + and his pen-name was carefully concealed. + </p> + <p> + It was a large relief to be no longer an object of public curiosity; but + Twichell, as in the Bermuda trip, did not feel quite honest, perhaps, in + altogether preserving the mask of unrecognition. In one of his letters + home he tells how, when a young man at their table, he was especially + delighted with Mark Twain's conversation, he could not resist taking the + young man aside and divulging to him the speaker's identity. + </p> + <p> + “I could not forbear telling him who Mark was,” he says, + “and the mingled surprise and pleasure his face exhibited made me + glad I had done so.” + </p> + <p> + They climbed the Rigi, after which Clemens was not in good walking trim + for some time; so Twichell went on a trip on his own account, to give his + comrade a chance to rest. Then away again to Interlaken, where the + Jungfrau rises, cold and white; on over the loneliness of Gemimi Pass, + with glaciers for neighbors and the unfading white peaks against the blue; + to Visp and to Zermatt, where the Matterhorn points like a finger that + directs mankind to God. This was true Alpine wandering—sweet + vagabondage. + </p> + <p> + The association of the wanderers was a very intimate one. Their minds were + closely attuned, and there were numerous instances of thought—echo-mind + answering to mind—without the employment of words. Clemens records + in his notes: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sunday A.M., August 11th. Been reading Romola yesterday afternoon, + last night, and this morning; at last I came upon the only passage + which has thus far hit me with force—Tito compromising with his + conscience, and resolving to do, not a bad thing, but not the best + thing. Joe entered the room five minutes—no, three minutes later + —and without prelude said, “I read that book you've got there six + years ago, and got a mighty good text for a sermon out of it the + passage where the young fellow compromises with his conscience, and + resolves to do, not a bad thing, but not the best thing.” This is + Joe's first reference to this book since he saw me buy it twenty- + four hours ago. So my mind operated on his in this instance. He + said he was sitting yonder in the reading-room, three minutes ago (I + have not got up yet), thinking of nothing in particular, and didn't + know what brought Romola into his head; but into his head it came + and that particular passage. Now I, forty feet away, in another + room, was reading that particular passage at that particular moment. + + Couldn't suggest Romola to him earlier, because nothing in the book + had taken hold of me till I came to that one passage on page 112, + Tauchnitz edition. +</pre> + <p> + And again: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The instances of mind-telegraphing are simply innumerable. This + evening Joe and I sat long at the edge of the village looking at the + Matterhorn. Then Joe said, “We ought to go to the Cervin Hotel and + inquire for Livy's telegram.” If he had been but one instant later + I should have said those words instead of him. +</pre> + <p> + Such entries are frequent, and one day there came along a kind of + object-lesson. They were toiling up a mountainside, when Twichell began + telling a very interesting story which had happened in connection with a + friend still living, though Twichell had no knowledge of his whereabouts + at this time. The story finished just as they rounded a turn in, the + cliff, and Twichell, looking up, ended his last sentence, “And + there's the man!” Which was true, for they were face to face with + the very man of whom he had been telling. + </p> + <p> + Another subject that entered into their discussion was the law of + accidents. Clemens held that there was no such thing as an accident: that + it was all forewritten in the day of the beginning; that every event, + however slight, was embryonic in that first instant of created life, and + immutably timed to its appearance in the web of destiny. Once on their + travels, when they were on a high bank above a brawling stream, a little + girl, who started to run toward them, slipped and rolled under the bottom + rail of the protecting fence, her feet momentarily hanging out over the + precipice and the tearing torrent below. It seemed a miraculous escape + from death, and furnished an illustration for their discussion. The + condition of the ground, the force of her fall, the nearness of the fatal + edge, all these had grown inevitably out of the first great projection of + thought, and the child's fall and its escape had been invested in life's + primal atom. + </p> + <p> + The author of A Tramp Abroad tells us of the rushing stream that flows out + of the Arcadian sky valley, the Gasternthal, and goes plunging down to + Kandersteg, and how he took exercise by making “Harris” + (Twichell) set stranded logs adrift while he lounged comfortably on a + boulder, and watched them go tearing by; also how he made Harris run a + race with one of those logs. But that is literature. Twichell, in a letter + home, has preserved a likelier and lovelier story: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mark is a queer fellow. There is nothing that he so delights in as + a swift, strong stream. You can hardly get him to leave one when + once he is within the influence of its fascinations. To throw in + stones and sticks seems to afford him rapture. Tonight, as we were + on our way back to the hotel, seeing a lot of driftwood caught by + the torrent side below the path, I climbed down and threw it in. + When I got back to the path Mark was running down-stream after it as + hard as he could go, throwing up his hands and shouting in the + wildest ecstasy, and when a piece went over a fall and emerged to + view in the foam below he would jump up and down and yell. He said + afterward that he hadn't been so excited in three months. He acted + just like a boy; another feature of his extreme sensitiveness in + certain directions. +</pre> + <p> + Then generalizing, Twichell adds: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He has coarse spots in him. But I never knew a person so finely + regardful of the feelings of others in some ways. He hates to pass + another person walking, and will practise some subterfuge to take + off what he feels is the discourtesy of it. And he is exceedingly + timid, tremblingly timid, about approaching strangers; hates to ask + a question. His sensitive regard for others extends to animals. + When we are driving his concern is all about the horse. He can't + bear to see the whip used, or to see a horse pull hard. To-day, + when the driver clucked up his horse and quickened his pace a + little, Mark said, “The fellow's got the notion that we are in a + hurry.” He is exceedingly considerate toward me in regard of + everything—or most things. +</pre> + <p> + The days were not all sunshine. Sometimes it rained and they took shelter + by the wayside, or, if there was no shelter, they plodded along under + their umbrellas, still talking away, and if something occurred that + Clemens wanted to put down they would stand stock still in the rain, and + Twichell would hold the umbrella while Clemens wrote—a good while + sometimes—oblivious to storm and discomfort and the long way yet + ahead. + </p> + <p> + After the day on Gemmi Pass Twichell wrote home: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mark, to-day, was immensely absorbed in the flowers. He scrambled + around and gathered a great variety, and manifested the intensest + pleasure in them. He crowded a pocket of his note-book with his + specimens and wanted more room. So I stopped the guide and got out + my needle and thread, and out of a stiff paper, a hotel + advertisement, I had about me made a paper bag, a cornucopia like, + and tied it to his vest in front, and it answered the purpose + admirably. He filled it full with a beautiful collection, and as + soon as we got here to-night he transferred it to a cardboard box + and sent it by mail to Livy. A strange Mark he is, full of + contradictions. I spoke last night of his sensitive to others' + feelings. To-day the guide got behind, and came up as if he would + like to go by, yet hesitated to do so. Mark paused, went aside and + busied himself a minute picking a flower. In the halt the guide got + by and resumed his place in front. Mark threw the flower away, + saying, “I didn't want that. I only wanted to give the old man a + chance to go on without seeming to pass us.” Mark is splendid to + walk with amid such grand scenery, for he talks so well about it, + has such a power of strong, picturesque expression. I wish you + might have heard him to-day. His vigorous speech nearly did justice + to the things we saw. +</pre> + <p> + In an address which Twichell gave many years later he recalls another + pretty incident of their travels. They had been toiling up the Gorner + Grat. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + As we paused for a rest, a lamb from a flock of sheep near by ventured + inquisitively toward us, whereupon Mark seated himself on a rock, and with + beckoning hand and soft words tried to get it to come to him. + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + On the lamb's part it was a struggle between curiosity and timidity, but + in a succession of advances and retreats it gained confidence, though at a + very gradual rate. It was a scene for a painter: the great American + humorist on one side of the game and that silly little creature on the + other, with the Matterhorn for a background. Mark was reminded that the + time he was consuming was valuable—but to no purpose. The Gorner + Grat could wait. He held on with undiscouraged perseverance till he + carried his point: the lamb finally put its nose in his hand, and he was + happy over it all the rest of the day. + </pre> + <p> + The matter of religion came up now and again in the drift of their + discussions. It was Twichell's habit to have prayers in their room every + night at the hotels, and Clemens was willing to join in the observances. + Once Twichell, finding him in a responsive mood—a remorseful mood—gave + his sympathy, and spoke of the larger sympathy of divinity. Clemens + listened and seemed soothed and impressed, but his philosophies were too + wide and too deep for creeds and doctrines. A day or two later, as they + were tramping along in the hot sun, his honesty had to speak out. + </p> + <p> + “Joe,” he said, “I'm going to make a confession. I don't + believe in your religion at all. I've been living a lie right straight + along whenever I pretended to. For a moment, sometimes, I have been almost + a believer, but it immediately drifts away from me again. I don't believe + one word of your Bible was inspired by God any more than any other book. I + believe it is entirely the work of man from beginning to end—atonement + and all. The problem of life and death and eternity and the true + conception of God is a bigger thing than is contained in that book.” + </p> + <p> + So the personal side of religious discussion closed between them, and was + never afterward reopened. + </p> + <p> + They joined Mrs. Clemens and the others at Lausanne at last, and their + Swiss holiday was over. Twichell set out for home by way of England, and + Clemens gave himself up to reflection and rest after his wanderings. Then, + as the days of their companionship passed in review, quickly and + characteristically he sent a letter after his comrade: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR OLD JOE, It is actually all over! I was so low-spirited at the + station yesterday, and this morning, when I woke, I couldn't seem to + accept the dismal truth that you were really gone, and the pleasant + tramping and talking at an end. Ah, my boy! it has been such a + rich holiday to me, and I feel under such deep and honest + obligations to you for coming. I am putting out of my mind all + memory of the times when I misbehaved toward you and hurt you; I am + resolved to consider it forgiven, and to store up and remember only + the charming hours of the journeys and the times when I was not + unworthy to be with you and share a companionship which to me stands + first after Livy's. It is justifiable to do this; for why should I + let my small infirmities of disposition live and grovel among my + mental pictures of the eternal sublimities of the Alps? + + Livy can't accept or endure the fact that you are gone. But you + are, and we cannot get around it. So take our love with you, and + bear it also over the sea to Harmony, and God bless you both. + + MARK. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0125" id="link2H_4_0125"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXIX. ITALIAN DAYS + </h2> + <p> + The Clemens party wandered down into Italy—to the lakes, Venice, + Florence, Rome—loitering through the galleries, gathering here and + there beautiful furnishings—pictures, marbles, and the like—for + the Hartford home. + </p> + <p> + In Venice they bought an old careen bed, a massive regal affair with + serpentine columns surmounted by singularly graceful cupids, and with + other cupids sporting on the headboard: the work of some artist who had + been dust three centuries maybe, for this bed had come out of an old + Venetian palace, dismantled and abandoned. It was a furniture with a long + story, and the years would add mightily to its memories. It would become a + stately institution in the Clemens household. The cupids on the posts were + removable, and one of the highest privileges of childhood would be to + occupy that bed and have down one of the cupids to play with. It was + necessary to be ill to acquire that privilege—not violently and + dangerously ill, but interestingly so—ill enough to be propped up + with pillows and have one's meals served on a tray, with dolls and + picture-books handy, and among them a beautiful rosewood cupid who had + kept dimpled and dainty for so many, many years. + </p> + <p> + They spent three weeks in Venice: a dreamlike experience, especially for + the children, who were on the water most of the time, and became fast + friends with their gondolier, who taught them some Italian words; then a + week in Florence and a fortnight in Rome. + </p> + <p> + —[From the note-book: + </p> + <p> + “BAY—When the waiter brought my breakfast this morning I spoke + to him in Italian. + </p> + <p> + “MAMA—What did you say? + </p> + <p> + “B.—I said, 'Polly-vo fransay.' + </p> + <p> + “M.—What does it mean? “ + </p> + <p> + B.—I don't know. What <i>does</i> it mean, Susy? + </p> + <p> + “S.—It means, 'Polly wants a cracker.'”] + </p> + <p> + Clemens discovered that in twelve years his attitude had changed somewhat + concerning the old masters. He no longer found the bright, new copies an + improvement on the originals, though the originals still failed to wake + his enthusiasm. Mrs. Clemens and Miss Spaulding spent long hours wandering + down avenues of art, accompanied by him on occasion, though not always + willingly. He wrote his sorrow to Twichell: + </p> + <p> + I do wish you were in Rome to do my sight-seeing for me. Rome interests me + as much as East Hartford could, and no more; that is, the Rome which the + average tourist feels an interest in. There are other things here which + stir me enough to make life worth living. Livy and Clara are having a + royal time worshiping the old masters, and I as good a time gritting my + ineffectual teeth over them. + </p> + <p> + Once when Sarah Orne Jewett was with the party he remarked that if the old + masters had labeled their fruit one wouldn't be so likely to mistake pears + for turnips. + </p> + <p> + “Youth,” said Mrs. Clemens, gravely, “if you do not care + for these masterpieces yourself, you might at least consider the feelings + of others”; and Miss Jewett, regarding him severely, added, in her + quaint Yankee fashion: + </p> + <p> + “Now, you've been spoke to!” + </p> + <p> + He felt duly reprimanded, but his taste did not materially reform. He + realized that he was no longer in a proper frame of mind to write of + general sight-seeing. One must be eager, verdant, to write happily the + story of travel. Replying to a letter from Howells on the subject he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I wish I could give those sharp satires on European life which you + mention, but of course a man can't write successful satire except he + be in a calm, judicial good-humor; whereas I hate travel, and I hate + hotels, and I hate the opera, and I hate the old masters. In truth + I don't ever seem to be in a good enough humor with anything to + satirize it. No, I want to stand up before it and curse it and foam + at the mouth, or take a club and pound it to rags and pulp. I have + got in two or three chapters about Wagner's operas, and managed to + do it without showing temper, but the strain of another such effort + would burst me. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens became his own courier for a time in Italy, and would seem to have + made more of a success of it than he did a good many years afterward, if + we may believe the story he has left us of his later attempt: + </p> + <p> + “Am a shining success as a courier,” he records, “by the + use of francs. Have learned how to handle the railway guide intelligently + and with confidence.” + </p> + <p> + He declares that he will have no more couriers; but possibly he could have + employed one to advantage on the trip out of Italy, for it was a + desperately hard one, with bad connections and delayed telegrams. When, + after thirty-six hours weary, continuous traveling, they arrived at last + in Munich in a drizzle and fog, and were domiciled in their winter + quarters, at No. 1a, Karlstrasse, they felt that they had reached the home + of desolation itself, the very throne of human misery. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + And the rooms were so small, the conveniences so meager, and the + porcelain stove was grim, ghastly, dismal, intolerable! So Livy and + Clara Spaulding sat down forlorn and cried, and I retired to a + private place to pray. By and by we all retired to our narrow + German beds, and when Livy and I had finished talking across the + room it was all decided that we should rest twenty-four hours, then + pay whatever damages were required and straightway fly to the south + of France. +</pre> + <p> + The rooms had been engaged by letter, months before, of their + proprietress, Fraulein Dahlweiner, who had met them at the door with a + lantern in her hand, full of joy in their arrival and faith in her ability + to make them happy. It was a faith that was justified. Next morning, when + they all woke, rested, the weather had cleared, there were bright fires in + the rooms, the world had taken on a new aspect. Fraulein Dahlweiner, the + pathetic, hard-working little figure, became almost beautiful in their + eyes in her efforts for their comfort. She arranged larger rooms and + better conveniences for them. Their location was central and there was a + near-by park. They had no wish to change. Clemens, in his letter to + Howells, boasts that he brought the party through from Rome himself, and + that they never had so little trouble before; but in looking over this + letter, thirty years later, he commented, “Probably a lie.” + </p> + <p> + He secured a room some distance away for his work, but then could not find + his Swiss note-book. He wrote Twichell that he had lost it, and that after + all he might not be obliged to write a volume of travels. But the notebook + turned up and the work on the new book proceeded. For a time it went + badly. He wrote many chapters, only to throw them aside. He had the + feeling that he had somehow lost the knack of descriptive narrative. He + had become, as it seemed, too didactic. He thought his description was + inclined to be too literal, his humor manufactured. These impressions + passed, by and by; interest developed, and with it enthusiasm and + confidence. In a letter to Twichell he reported his progress: + </p> + <p> + I was about to write to my publisher and propose some other book, when the + confounded thing [the note-book] turned up, and down went my heart into my + boots. But there was now no excuse, so I went solidly to work, tore up a + great part of the MS. written in Heidelberg—wrote and tore up, + continued to write and tear up—and at last, reward of patient and + noble persistence, my pen got the old swing again! Since then I'm glad + that Providence knew better what to do with the Swiss notebook than I did. + </p> + <p> + Further along in the same letter there breaks forth a true heart-answer to + that voice of the Alps which, once heard, is never wholly silent: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + O Switzerland! The further it recedes into the enriching haze of + time, the more intolerably delicious the charm of it and the cheer + of it and the glory and majesty, and solemnity and pathos of it + grow. Those mountains had a soul: they thought, they spoke. And + what a voice it was! And how real! Deep down in my memory it is + sounding yet. Alp calleth unto Alp! That stately old Scriptural + wording is the right one for God's Alps and God's ocean. How puny + we were in that awful Presence, and how painless it was to be so! + How fitting and right it seemed, and how stingless was the sense of + our unspeakable insignificance! And Lord, how pervading were the + repose and peace and blessedness that poured out of the heart of the + invisible Great Spirit of the mountains! + + Now what is it? There are mountains and mountains and mountains in + this world, but only these take you by the heartstrings. I wonder + what the secret of it is. Well, time and time and again it has + seemed to me that I must drop everything and flee to Switzerland + once more. It is a longing, a deep, strong, tugging longing. That is + the word. We must go again, Joe. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0126" id="link2H_4_0126"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXX. IN MUNICH + </h2> + <p> + That winter in Munich was not recalled as an unpleasant one in + after-years. His work went well enough—always a chief source of + gratification. Mrs. Clemens and Miss Spaulding found interest in the + galleries, in quaint shops, in the music and picturesque life of that + beautiful old Bavarian town. The children also liked Munich. It was easy + for them to adopt any new environment or custom. The German Christmas, + with its lavish tree and toys and cakes, was an especial delight. The + German language they seemed fairly to absorb. Writing to his mother + Clemens said: + </p> + <p> + I cannot see but that the children speak German as well as they do + English. Susy often translates Livy's orders to the servants. I cannot + work and study German at the same time; so I have dropped the latter and + do not even read the language, except in the morning paper to get the + news. + </p> + <p> + In Munich—as was the case wherever they were known—there were + many callers. Most Americans and many foreigners felt it proper to call on + Mark Twain. It was complimentary, but it was wearying sometimes. Mrs. + Clemens, in a letter written from Venice, where they had received even + more than usual attention, declared there were moments when she almost + wished she might never see a visitor again. + </p> + <p> + Originally there was a good deal about Munich in the new book, and some of + the discarded chapters might have been retained with advantage. They were + ruled out in the final weeding as being too serious, along with the French + chapters. Only a few Italian memories were left to follow the Switzerland + wanderings. + </p> + <p> + The book does record one Munich event, though transferring it to + Heilsbronn. It is the incident of the finding of the lost sock in the vast + bedroom. It may interest the reader to compare what really happened, as + set down in a letter to Twichell, with the story as written for + publication: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Last night I awoke at three this morning, and after raging to myself + for two interminable hours I gave it up. I rose, assumed a catlike + stealthiness, to keep from waking Livy, and proceeded to dress in + the pitch-dark. Slowly but surely I got on garment after garment + —all down to one sock; I had one slipper on and the other in my hand. + Well, on my hands and knees I crept softly around, pawing and + feeling and scooping along the carpet, and among chair-legs, for + that missing sock, I kept that up, and still kept it up, and kept it + up. At first I only said to myself, “Blame that sock,” but that + soon ceased to answer. My expletives grew steadily stronger and + stronger, and at last, when I found I was lost, I had to sit flat + down on the floor and take hold of something to keep from lifting + the roof off with the profane explosion that was trying to get out + of me. I could see the dim blur of the window, but of course it was + in the wrong place and could give me no information as to where I + was. But I had one comfort—I had not waked Livy; I believed I + could find that sock in silence if the night lasted long enough. + So I started again and softly pawed all over the place, and sure + enough, at the end of half an hour I laid my hand on the missing + article. I rose joyfully up and butted the washbowl and pitcher off + the stand, and simply raised——so to speak. Livy screamed, then + said, “Who is it? What is the matter?” I said, “There ain't + anything the matter. I'm hunting for my sock.” She said, “Are you + hunting for it with a club?” + + I went in the parlor and lit the lamp, and gradually the fury + subsided and the ridiculous features of the thing began to suggest + themselves. So I lay on the sofa with note-book and pencil, and + transferred the adventure to our big room in the hotel at + Heilsbronn, and got it on paper a good deal to my satisfaction. +</pre> + <p> + He wrote with frequency to Howells, and sent him something for the + magazine now and then: the “Gambetta Duel” burlesque, which + would make a chapter in the book later, and the story of “The Great + Revolution in Pitcairn.”—[Included in The Stolen White + Elephant volume. The “Pitcairn” and “Elephant” + tales were originally chapters in 'A Tramp Abroad'; also the unpleasant + “Coffin-box” yarn, which Howells rejected for the Atlantic and + generally condemned, though for a time it remained a favorite with its + author.] + </p> + <p> + Howells's novel, 'The Lady of the Aroostook', was then running through the + 'Atlantic', and in one of his letters Clemens expresses the general deep + satisfaction of his household in that tale: + </p> + <p> + If your literature has not struck perfection now we are not able to see + what is lacking. It is all such truth—truth to the life; everywhere + your pen falls it leaves a photograph.... Possibly you will not be a fully + accepted classic until you have been dead one hundred years—it is + the fate of the Shakespeares of all genuine professions—but then + your books will be as common as Bibles, I believe. In that day I shall be + in the encyclopedias too, thus: “Mark Twain, history and occupation + unknown; but he was personally acquainted with Howells.” + </p> + <p> + Though in humorous form, this was a sincere tribute. Clemens always + regarded with awe William Dean Howells's ability to dissect and photograph + with such delicacy the minutiae of human nature; just as Howells always + stood in awe of Mark Twain's ability to light, with a single flashing + sentence, the whole human horizon. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0127" id="link2H_4_0127"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXXI. PARIS, ENGLAND, AND HOMEWARD BOUND + </h2> + <p> + They decided to spend the spring months in Paris, so they gave up their + pleasant quarters with Fraulein Dahlweiner, and journeyed across Europe, + arriving at the French capital February 28, 1879. Here they met another + discouraging prospect, for the weather was cold and damp, the cabmen + seemed brutally ill-mannered, their first hotel was chilly, dingy, + uninviting. Clemens, in his note-book, set down his impressions of their + rooms. A paragraph will serve: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ten squatty, ugly arm-chairs, upholstered in the ugliest and + coarsest conceivable scarlet plush; two hideous sofas of the same + —uncounted armless chairs ditto. Five ornamental chairs, seats + covered with a coarse rag, embroidered in flat expanse with a + confusion of leaves such as no tree ever bore, six or seven a dirty + white and the rest a faded red. How those hideous chairs do swear + at the hideous sofa near them! This is the very hatefulest room I + have seen in Europe. + + Oh, how cold and raw and unwarmable it is! +</pre> + <p> + It was better than that when the sun came out, and they found happier + quarters presently at the Hotel Normandy, rue de l'Echelle. + </p> + <p> + But, alas, the sun did not come out often enough. It was one of those + French springs and summers when it rains nearly every day, and is + distressingly foggy and chill between times. Clemens received a bad + impression of France and the French during that Parisian-sojourn, from + which he never entirely recovered. In his note-book he wrote: “France + has neither winter, nor summer, nor morals. Apart from these drawbacks it + is a fine country.” + </p> + <p> + The weather may not have been entirely accountable for his prejudice, but + from whatever cause Mark Twain, to the day of his death, had no great love + for the French as a nation. Conversely, the French as a nation did not + care greatly for Mark Twain. There were many individual Frenchmen that + Mark Twain admired, as there were many Frenchmen who admired the work and + personality of Mark Twain; but on neither side was there the warm, fond, + general affection which elsewhere throughout Europe he invited and + returned. + </p> + <p> + His book was not yet finished. In Paris he worked on it daily, but without + enthusiasm. The city was too noisy, the weather too dismal. His note-book + says: + </p> + <p> + May 7th. I wish this terrible winter would come to an end. Have had rain + almost without intermission for two months and one week. + </p> + <p> + May 28th. This is one of the coldest days of this most damnable and + interminable winter. + </p> + <p> + It was not all gloom and discomfort. There was congenial company in Paris, + and dinner-parties, and a world of callers. Aldrich the scintillating—[ + Of Aldrich Clemens used to say: “When Aldrich speaks it seems to me + he is the bright face of the moon, and I feel like the other side.” + Aldrich, unlike Clemens, was not given to swearing. The Parisian note-book + has this memorandum: “Aldrich gives his seat in the horse-car to a + crutched cripple, and discovers that what he took for a crutch is only a + length of walnut beading and the man not lame; whereupon Aldrich uses the + only profanity that ever escaped his lips: 'Damn a dam'd man who would + carry a dam'd piece of beading under his dam'd arm!'”]—was + there, also Gedney Bunce, of Hartford, Frank Millet and his wife, Hjalmar + Hjorth Boyesen and his wife, and a Mr. and Mrs. Chamberlain, artist people + whom the Clemenses had met pleasantly in Italy. Turgenieff, as in London, + came to call; also Baron Tauchnitz, that nobly born philanthropist of + German publishers, who devoted his life, often at his personal cost, to + making the literature of other nations familiar to his own. Tauchnitz had + early published the 'Innocents', following it with other Mark Twain + volumes as they appeared, paying always, of his own will and accord, all + that he could afford to pay for this privilege; which was not really a + privilege, for the law did not require him to pay at all. He traveled down + to Paris now to see the author, and to pay his respects to him. “A + mighty nice old gentleman,” Clemens found him. Richard Whiteing was + in Paris that winter, and there were always plenty of young American + painters whom it was good to know. + </p> + <p> + They had what they called the Stomach Club, a jolly organization, whose + purpose was indicated by its name. Mark Twain occasionally attended its + sessions, and on one memorable evening, when Edwin A. Abbey was there, + speeches were made which never appeared in any printed proceedings. Mark + Twain's address that night has obtained a wide celebrity among the clubs + of the world, though no line of it, or even its title has ever found its + way into published literature. + </p> + <p> + Clemens had a better time in Paris than the rest of his party. He could go + and come, and mingle with the sociabilities when the abnormal weather kept + the others housed in. He did a good deal of sight-seeing of his own kind, + and once went up in a captive balloon. They were all studying French, more + or less, and they read histories and other books relating to France. + Clemens renewed his old interest in Joan of Arc, and for the first time + appears to have conceived the notion of writing the story of that lovely + character. + </p> + <p> + The Reign of Terror interested him. He reread Carlyle's Revolution, a book + which he was never long without reading, and they all read 'A Tale of Two + Cities'. When the weather permitted they visited the scenes of that grim + period. + </p> + <p> + In his note-book he comments: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “The Reign of Terror shows that, without distinction or rank, the + people were savages. Marquises, dukes, lawyers, blacksmiths, they + each figure in due proportion to their crafts.” + </pre> + <p> + And again: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “For 1,000 years this savage nation indulged itself in massacre; + every now and then a big massacre or a little one. The spirit is + peculiar to France—I mean in Christendom—no other state has had + it. In this France has always walked abreast, kept her end up with + her brethren, the Turks and the Burmese. Their chief traits—love + of glory and massacre.” + </pre> + <p> + Yet it was his sense of fairness that made him write, as a sort of + quittance: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “You perceive I generalize with intrepidity from single instances. + It is the tourists' custom. When I see a man jump from the Vendome + Column I say, 'They like to do that in Paris.'” + </pre> + <p> + Following this implied atonement, he records a few conclusions, drawn + doubtless from Parisian reading and observation: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Childish race and great.” + + “I'm for cremation.” + + “I disfavor capital punishment.” + + “Samson was a Jew, therefore not a fool. The Jews have the best + average brain of any people in the world. The Jews are the only + race in the world who work wholly with their brains, and never with + their hands. There are no Jew beggars, no Jew tramps, no Jew + ditchers, hod-carriers, day-laborers, or followers of toilsome + mechanical trade. + + “They are peculiarly and conspicuously the world's intellectual + aristocracy.” + + “Communism is idiocy. They want to divide up the property. Suppose + they did it. It requires brains to keep money as well as to make + it. In a precious little while the money would be back in the + former owner's hands and the communist would be poor again. The + division would have to be remade every three years or it would do + the communist no good.” + </pre> + <p> + A curious thing happened one day in Paris. Boyesen, in great excitement, + came to the Normandy and was shown to the Clemens apartments. He was pale + and could hardly speak, for his emotion. He asked immediately if his wife + had come to their rooms. On learning that she had not, he declared that + she was lost or had met with an accident. She had been gone several hours, + he said, and had sent no word, a thing which she had never done before. He + besought Clemens to aid him in his search for her, to do something to help + him find her. Clemens, without showing the least emotion or special + concentration of interest, said quietly: + </p> + <p> + “I will.” + </p> + <p> + “Where will you go first,” Boyesen demanded. + </p> + <p> + Still in the same even voice Clemens said: + </p> + <p> + “To the elevator.” + </p> + <p> + He passed out of the room, with Boyesen behind him, into the hall. The + elevator was just coming up, and as they reached it, it stopped at their + landing, and Mrs. Boyesen stepped out. She had been delayed by a breakdown + and a blockade. Clemens said afterward that he had a positive conviction + that she would be on the elevator when they reached it. It was one of + those curious psychic evidences which we find all along during his life; + or, if the skeptics prefer to call them coincidences, they are privileged + to do so. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Paris, June 1, 1879. Still this vindictive winter continues. Had a + raw, cold rain to-day. To-night we sit around a rousing wood fire. +</pre> + <p> + They stood it for another month, and then on the 10th of July, when it was + still chilly and disagreeable, they gave it up and left for Brussels, + which he calls “a dirty, beautiful (architecturally), interesting + town.” + </p> + <p> + Two days in Brussels, then to Antwerp, where they dined on the Trenton + with Admiral Roan, then to Rotterdam, Dresden, Amsterdam, and London, + arriving there the 29th of July, which was rainy and cold, in keeping with + all Europe that year. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Had to keep a rousing big cannel-coal fire blazing in the grate all + day. A remarkable summer, truly! +</pre> + <p> + London meant a throng of dinners, as always: brilliant, notable affairs, + too far away to recall. A letter written by Mrs. Clemens at the time + preserves one charming, fresh bit of that departed bloom. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Clara [Spaulding] went in to dinner with Mr. Henry James; she + enjoyed him very much. I had a little chat with him before dinner, + and he was exceedingly pleasant and easy to talk with. I had + expected just the reverse, thinking one would feel looked over by + him and criticized. + + Mr. Whistler, the artist, was at the dinner, but he did not attract + me. Then there was a lady, over eighty years old, a Mrs. Stuart, + who was Washington Irving's love, and she is said to have been his + only love, and because of her he went unmarried to his grave. + —[Mrs. Clemens was misinformed. Irving's only “love” was a Miss + Hoffman.]—She was also an intimate friend of Madame Bonaparte. + You would judge Mrs. Stuart to be about fifty, and she was the life + of the drawing-room after dinner, while the ladies were alone, + before the gentlemen came up. It was lovely to see such a sweet old + age; every one was so fond of her, every one deferred to her, yet + every one was joking her, making fun of her, but she was always + equal to the occasion, giving back as bright replies as possible; + you had not the least sense that she was aged. She quoted French in + her stories with perfect ease and fluency, and had all the time such + a kindly, lovely way. When she entered the room, before dinner, Mr. + James, who was then talking with me, shook hands with her and said, + “Good evening, you wonderful lady.” After she had passed... + he said, “She is the youngest person in London. She has the + youngest feelings and the youngest interests.... She is + always interested.” + + It was a perfect delight to hear her and see her. +</pre> + <p> + For more than two years they had had an invitation from Reginald + Cholmondeley to pay him another visit. + </p> + <p> + So they went for a week to Condover, where many friends were gathered, + including Millais, the painter, and his wife (who had been the wife of + Ruskin), numerous relatives, and other delightful company. It was one of + the happiest chapters of their foreign sojourn.—[Moncure D. Conway, + who was in London at the time, recalls, in his Autobiography, a visit + which he made with Mr. and Mrs. Clemens to Stratford-on-Avon. “Mrs. + Clemens was an ardent Shakespearian, and Mark Twain determined to give her + a surprise. He told her that we were going on a journey to Epworth, and + persuaded me to connive with the joke by writing to Charles Flower not to + meet us himself, but send his carriage. On arrival at the station we + directed the driver to take us straight to the church. When we entered, + and Mrs. Clemens read on Shakespeare's grave, 'Good friend, for Jesus' + sake, forbear,' she started back, exclaiming, 'where am I?' Mark received + her reproaches with an affluence of guilt, but never did lady enjoy a + visit more than that to Avonbank. Mrs. Charles Flower (nee Martineau) took + Mrs. Clemens to her heart, and contrived that every social or other + attraction of that region should surround her.”] + </p> + <p> + From the note-book: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sunday, August 17,'79. Raw and cold, and a drenching rain. Went to + hear Mr. Spurgeon. House three-quarters full-say three thousand + people. First hour, lacking one minute, taken up with two prayers, + two ugly hymns, and Scripture-reading. Sermon three-quarters of an + hour long. A fluent talker, good, sonorous voice. Topic treated in + the unpleasant, old fashion: Man a mighty bad child, God working at + him in forty ways and having a world of trouble with him. + + A wooden-faced congregation; just the sort to see no incongruity in + the majesty of Heaven stooping to plead and sentimentalize over + such, and see in their salvation an important matter. + + Tuesday, August 19th. Went up Windermere Lake in the steamer. + Talked with the great Darwin. +</pre> + <p> + They had planned to visit Dr. Brown in Scotland. Mrs. Clemens, in + particular, longed to go, for his health had not been of the best, and she + felt that they would never have a chance to see him again. Clemens in + after years blamed himself harshly for not making the trip, declaring that + their whole reason for not going was an irritable reluctance on his part + to take the troublesome journey and a perversity of spirit for which there + was no real excuse. There is documentary evidence against this harsh + conclusion. They were, in fact, delayed here and there by misconnections + and the continued terrific weather, barely reaching Liverpool in time for + their sailing date, August 23d. Unquestionably he was weary of railway + travel, for he always detested it. Time would magnify his remembered + reluctance, until, in the end, he would load his conscience with the + entire burden of blame. + </p> + <p> + Their ship was the Gallia, and one night, when they were nearing the + opposite side of the Atlantic, Mark Twain, standing on deck, saw for the + third time in his experience a magnificent lunar rainbow: a complete arch, + the colors part of the time very brilliant, but little different from a + day rainbow. It is not given to many persons in this world to see even one + of these phenomena. After each previous vision there had come to him a + period of good-fortune. Perhaps this also boded well for him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0128" id="link2H_4_0128"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXXII. AN INTERLUDE + </h2> + <p> + The Gallia reached New York September 3, 1879. A report of his arrival, in + the New York Sun, stated that Mark Twain had changed in his absence; that + only his drawl seemed natural. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + His hat, as he stood on the deck of the incoming Cunarder, Gallia, + was of the pattern that English officers wear in India, and his suit + of clothes was such as a merchant might wear in his store. He + looked older than when he went to Germany, and his hair has turned + quite gray. +</pre> + <p> + It was a late hour when they were finally up to the dock, and Clemens, + anxious to get through the Custom House, urged the inspector to accept his + carefully prepared list of dutiable articles, without opening the baggage. + But the official was dubious. Clemens argued eloquently, and a higher + authority was consulted. Again Clemens stated his case and presented his + arguments. A still higher chief of inspection was summoned, evidently from + his bed. He listened sleepily to the preamble, then suddenly said: “Oh, + chalk his baggage, of course! Don't you know it's Mark Twain and that + he'll talk all night?” + </p> + <p> + They went directly to the farm, for whose high sunlit loveliness they had + been longing through all their days of absence. Mrs. Clemens, in her + letters, had never failed to dwell on her hunger for that fair hilltop. + From his accustomed study-table Clemens wrote to Twichell: + </p> + <p> + “You have run about a good deal, Joe, but you have never seen any + place that was so divine as the farm. Why don't you come here and take a + foretaste of Heaven?” Clemens declared he would roam no more + forever, and settled down to the happy farm routine. He took up his work, + which had not gone well in Paris, and found his interest in it renewed. In + the letter to Twichell he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I am revising my MS. I did not expect to like it, but I do. I have + been knocking out early chapters for more than a year now, not + because they had not merit, but merely because they hindered the + flow of the narrative; it was a dredging process. Day before + yesterday my shovel fetched up three more chapters and laid them, + reeking, on the festering shore-pile of their predecessors, and now + I think the yarn swims right along, without hitch or halt. I + believe it will be a readable book of travels. I cannot see that it + lacks anything but information. +</pre> + <p> + Mrs. Clemens was no less weary of travel than her husband. Yet she had + enjoyed their roaming, and her gain from it had been greater than his. Her + knowledge of art and literature, and of the personal geography of nations, + had vastly increased; her philosophy of life had grown beyond all + counting. + </p> + <p> + She had lost something, too; she had outstripped her traditions. One day, + when she and her sister had walked across the fields, and had stopped to + rest in a little grove by a pretty pond, she confessed, timidly enough and + not without sorrow, how she had drifted away from her orthodox views. She + had ceased to believe, she said, in the orthodox Bible God, who exercised + a personal supervision over every human soul. The hordes of people she had + seen in many lands, the philosophies she had listened to from her husband + and those wise ones about him, the life away from the restricted round of + home, all had contributed to this change. Her God had become a larger God; + the greater mind which exerts its care of the individual through immutable + laws of time and change and environment—the Supreme Good which + comprehends the individual flower, dumb creature, or human being only as a + unit in the larger scheme of life and love. Her sister was not shocked or + grieved; she too had grown with the years, and though perhaps less + positively directed, had by a path of her own reached a wider prospect of + conclusions. It was a sweet day there in the little grove by the water, + and would linger in the memory of both so long as life lasted. Certainly + it was the larger faith; though the moment must always come when the + narrower, nearer, more humanly protecting arm of orthodoxy lends closer + comfort. Long afterward, in the years that followed the sorrow of heavy + bereavement, Clemens once said to his wife, “Livy, if it comforts + you to lean on the Christian faith do so,” and she answered, “I + can't, Youth. I haven't any.” + </p> + <p> + And the thought that he had destroyed her illusion, without affording a + compensating solace, was one that would come back to him, now and then, + all his days. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0129" id="link2H_4_0129"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXXIII. THE GRANT SPEECH OF 1879 + </h2> + <p> + If the lunar rainbow had any fortuitous significance, perhaps we may find + it in the two speeches which Mark Twain made in November and December of + that year. The first of these was delivered at Chicago, on the occasion of + the reception of General Grant by the Army of the Tennessee, on the + evening of November 13, 1879. Grant had just returned from his splendid + tour of the world. His progress from San Francisco eastward had been such + an ovation as is only accorded to sovereignty. Clemens received an + invitation to the reunion, but, dreading the long railway journey, was at + first moved to decline. He prepared a letter in which he made “business” + his excuse, and expressed his regret that he would not be present to see + and hear the veterans of the Army of the Tennessee at the moment when + their old commander entered the room and rose in his place to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Besides,” he said, “I wanted to see the General again + anyway and renew the acquaintance. He would remember me, because I was the + person who did not ask him for an office.” + </p> + <p> + He did not send the letter. Reconsidering, it seemed to him that there was + something strikingly picturesque in the idea of a Confederate soldier who + had been chased for a fortnight in the rain through Ralls and Monroe + counties, Missouri, now being invited to come and give welcome home to his + old imaginary pursuer. It was in the nature of an imperative command, + which he could not refuse to obey. + </p> + <p> + He accepted and agreed to speak. They had asked him to respond to the + toast of “The Ladies,” but for him the subject was worn out. + He had already responded to that toast at least twice. He telegraphed that + there was one class of the community that had always been overlooked upon + such occasions, and that if they would allow him to do so he would take + that class for a toast: the babies. Necessarily they agreed, and he + prepared himself accordingly. + </p> + <p> + He arrived in Chicago in time for the prodigious procession of welcome. + Grant was to witness the march from a grand reviewing stand, which had + been built out from the second story of the Palmer House. Clemens had not + seen the General since the “embarrassing” introduction in + Washington, twelve years before. Their meeting was characteristic enough. + Carter Harrison, Mayor of Chicago, arriving with Grant, stepped over to + Clemens, and asked him if he wouldn't like to be presented. Grant also + came forward, and a moment later Harrison was saying: + </p> + <p> + “General, let me present Mr. Clemens, a man almost as great as + yourself.” They shook hands; there was a pause of a moment, then + Grant said, looking at him gravely: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Clemens, I am not embarrassed, are you?” + </p> + <p> + So he remembered that first, long-ago meeting. It was a conspicuous + performance. The crowd could not hear the words, but they saw the greeting + and the laugh, and cheered both men. + </p> + <p> + Following the procession, there were certain imposing ceremonies of + welcome at Haverly's Theater where long, laudatory eloquence was poured + out upon the returning hero, who sat unmoved while the storm of music and + cheers and oratory swept about him. Clemens, writing of it that evening to + Mrs. Clemens, said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I never sat elbow to elbow with so many historic names before. + Grant, Sherman, Sheridan, Schofield, Pope, Logan, and so on. + + What an iron man Grant is! He sat facing the house, with his right + leg crossed over his left, his right boot sole tilted up at an + angle, and his left hand and arm reposing on the arm of his chair. + You note that position? Well, when glowing references were made to + other grandees on the stage, those grandees always showed a trifle + of nervous consciousness, and as these references came frequently + the nervous changes of position and attitude were also frequent. + But Grant! He was under a tremendous and ceaseless bombardment of + praise and congratulation; but as true as I'm sitting here he never + moved a muscle of his body for a single instant during thirty + minutes! You could have played him on a stranger for an effigy. + Perhaps he never would have moved, but at last a speaker made such a + particularly ripping and blood-stirring remark about him that the + audience rose and roared and yelled and stamped and clapped an + entire minute—Grant sitting as serene as ever-when General Sherman + stepped up to him, laid his hand affectionately on his shoulder, + bent respectfully down, and whispered in his ear. Then Grant got up + and bowed, and the storm of applause swelled into a hurricane. +</pre> + <p> + But it was the next evening that the celebration rose to a climax. This + was at the grand banquet at the Palmer House, where six hundred guests sat + down to dinner and Grant himself spoke, and Logan and Hurlbut, and Vilas + and Woodford and Pope, fifteen in all, including Robert G. Ingersoll and + Mark Twain. Chicago has never known a greater event than that dinner, for + there has never been a time since when those great soldiers and citizens + could have been gathered there. + </p> + <p> + To Howells Clemens wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Imagine what it was like to see a bullet-shredded old battle-flag + reverently unfolded to the gaze of a thousand middle-aged soldiers, + most of whom hadn't seen it since they saw it advancing over + victorious fields when they were in their prime. And imagine what + it was like when Grant, their first commander, stepped into view + while they were still going mad over the flag, and then right in the + midst of it all somebody struck up “When we were marching through + Georgia.” Well, you should have heard the thousand voices lift that + chorus and seen the tears stream down. If I live a hundred years I + sha'n't ever forget these things, nor be able to talk about them. I + sha'n't ever forget that I saw Phil Sheridan, with martial cloak and + plumed chapeau, riding his big black horse in the midst of his own + cannon; by all odds the superbest figure of a soldier. I ever + looked upon! + Grand times, my boy, grand times! +</pre> + <p> + Mark Twain declared afterward that he listened to four speeches that night + which he would remember as long as he lived. One of them was by Emory + Storrs, another by General Vilas, another by Logan, and the last and + greatest by Robert Ingersoll, whose eloquence swept the house like a + flame. The Howells letter continues: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I doubt if America has ever seen anything quite equal to it; I am + well satisfied I shall not live to see its equal again. How pale + those speeches are in print, but how radiant, how full of color, how + blinding they were in the delivery! Bob Ingersoll's music will sing + through my memory always as the divinest that ever enchanted my + ears. And I shall always see him, as he stood that night on a + dinner-table, under the flash of lights and banners, in the midst of + seven hundred frantic shouters, the most beautiful human creature + that ever lived. “They fought, that a mother might own her child.” + The words look like any other print, but, Lord bless me! he + borrowed the very accent of the angel of mercy to say them in, and + you should have seen that vast house rise to its feet; and you + should have heard the hurricane that followed. That's the only + test! People may shout, clap their hands, stamp, wave their + napkins, but none but the master can make them get up on their feet. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens's own speech came last. He had been placed at the end to hold the + house. He was preceded by a dull speaker, and his heart sank, for it was + two o'clock and the diners were weary and sleepy, and the dreary speech + had made them unresponsive. + </p> + <p> + They gave him a round of applause when he stepped up upon the table in + front of him—a tribute to his name. Then he began the opening words + of that memorable, delightful fancy. + </p> + <p> + “We haven't all had the good-fortune to be ladies; we haven't all + been generals, or poets, or statesmen; but when the toast works down to + the babies—we stand on common ground—” + </p> + <p> + The tired audience had listened in respectful silence through the first + half of the sentence. He made one of his effective pauses on the word + “babies,” and when he added, in that slow, rich measure of + his, “we stand on common ground,” they let go a storm of + applause. There was no weariness and inattention after that. At the end of + each sentence, he had to stop to let the tornado roar itself out and sweep + by. When he reached the beginning of the final paragraph, “Among the + three or four million cradles now rocking in the land are some which this + nation would preserve for ages as sacred things if we could know which + ones they are,” the vast audience waited breathless for his + conclusion. Step by step he led toward some unseen climax—some + surprise, of course, for that would be his way. Then steadily, and almost + without emphasis, he delivered the opening of his final sentence: + </p> + <p> + “And now in his cradle, somewhere under the flag, the future + illustrious commander-in-chief of the American armies is so little + burdened with his approaching grandeurs and responsibilities as to be + giving his whole strategic mind, at this moment, to trying to find out + some way to get his own big toe into his mouth, an achievement which + (meaning no disrespect) the illustrious guest of this evening also turned + his attention to some fifty-six years ago.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, and the vast crowd had a chill of fear. After all, he seemed + likely to overdo it to spoil everything with a cheap joke at the end. No + one ever knew better than Mark Twain the value of a pause. He waited now + long enough to let the silence become absolute, until the tension was + painful, then wheeling to Grant himself he said, with all the dramatic + power of which he was master: + </p> + <p> + “And if the child is but the father of the man, there are mighty few + who will doubt that he succeeded!” + </p> + <p> + The house came down with a crash. The linking of their hero's great + military triumphs with that earliest of all conquests seemed to them so + grand a figure that they went mad with the joy of it. Even Grant's iron + serenity broke; he rocked and laughed while the tears streamed down his + cheeks. + </p> + <p> + They swept around the speaker with their congratulations, in their efforts + to seize his hand. He was borne up and down the great dining-hall. Grant + himself pressed up to make acknowledgments. + </p> + <p> + “It tore me all to pieces,” he said; and Sherman exclaimed, + “Lord bless you, my boy! I don't know how you do it!” + </p> + <p> + The little speech has been in “cold type” so many years since + then that the reader of it to-day may find it hard to understand the flame + of response it kindled so long ago. But that was another day—and + another nation—and Mark Twain, like Robert Ingersoll, knew always + his period and his people. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0130" id="link2H_4_0130"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXXIV. ANOTHER “ATLANTIC” SPEECH + </h2> + <p> + The December good-fortune was an opportunity Clemens had to redeem himself + with the Atlantic contingent, at a breakfast given to Dr. Holmes. + </p> + <p> + Howells had written concerning it as early as October, and the first + impulse had been to decline. It would be something of an ordeal; for + though two years had passed since the fatal Whittier dinner, Clemens had + not been in that company since, and the lapse of time did not signify. + Both Howells and Warner urged him to accept, and he agreed to do so on + condition that he be allowed to speak. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + If anybody talks there I shall claim the right to say a word myself, and + be heard among the very earliest, else it would be confoundedly awkward + for me—and for the rest, too. But you may read what I say + beforehand, and strike out whatever you choose. + </pre> + <p> + Howells advised against any sort of explanation. Clemens accepted this as + wise counsel, and prepared an address relevant only to the guest of honor. + </p> + <p> + It was a noble gathering. Most of the guests of the Whittier dinner were + present, and this time there were ladies. Emerson, Longfellow, and + Whittier were there, Harriet Beecher Stowe and Julia Ward Howe; also the + knightly Colonel Waring, and Stedman, and Parkman, and grand old John + Bigelow, old even then.—[He died in 1911 in his 94th year.] + </p> + <p> + Howells was conservative in his introduction this time. It was better + taste to be so. He said simply: + </p> + <p> + “We will now listen to a few words of truth and soberness from Mark + Twain.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens is said to have risen diffidently, but that was his natural + manner. It probably did not indicate anything of the inner tumult he + really felt. + </p> + <p> + Outwardly he was calm enough, and what he said was delicate and beautiful, + the kind of thing that he could say so well. It seems fitting that it + should be included here, the more so that it tells a story not elsewhere + recorded. This is the speech in full: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MR. CHAIRMAN, LADIES, AND GENTLEMEN,—I would have traveled a much + greater distance than I have come to witness the paying of honors to + Dr. Holmes, for my feeling toward him has always been one of + peculiar warmth. When one receives a letter from a great man for + the first time in his life it is a large event to him, as all of you + know by your own experience. You never can receive letters enough + from famous men afterward to obliterate that one or dim the memory + of the pleasant surprise it was and the gratification it gave you. + Lapse of time cannot make it commonplace or cheap. Well, the first + great man who ever wrote me a letter was our guest, Oliver Wendell + Holmes. He was also the first great literary man I ever stole + anything from, and that is how I came to write to him and he to me. + When my first book was new a friend of mine said, “The dedication is + very neat.” Yes, I said, I thought it was. My friend said, + “I always admired it, even before I saw it in The Innocents Abroad.” + I naturally said, “What do you mean? Where did you ever see it + before?” “Well, I saw it first, some years ago, as Dr. Holmes's + dedication to his Songs in Many Keys.” Of course my first impulse + was to prepare this man's remains for burial, but upon reflection I + said I would reprieve him for a moment or two, and give him a chance + to prove his assertion if he could. We stepped into a book-store. + and he did prove it. I had stolen that dedication almost word for + word. I could not imagine how this curious thing happened; for I + knew one thing, for a dead certainty—that a certain amount of pride + always goes along with a teaspoonful of brains, and that this pride + protects a man from deliberately stealing other people's ideas. + That is what a teaspoonful of brains will do for a man, and admirers + had often told me I had nearly a basketful, though they were rather + reserved as to the size of the basket. However, I thought the thing + out and solved the mystery. Some years before I had been laid up a + couple of weeks in the Sandwich Islands, and had read and reread Dr. + Holmes's poems till my mental reservoir was filled with them to the + brim. The dedication lay on top and handy, so by and by I + unconsciously took it. Well, of course, I wrote to Dr. Holmes and + told him I hadn't meant to steal, and he wrote back and said, in the + kindest way, that it was all right, and no harm done, and added that + he believed we all unconsciously worked over ideas gathered in + reading and hearing, imagining they were original with ourselves. + He stated a truth and did it in such a pleasant way, and salved over + my sore spot so gently and so healingly, that I was rather glad I + had committed the crime, for the sake of the letter. I afterward + called on him and told him to make perfectly free with any ideas of + mine that struck him as good protoplasm for poetry. He could see by + that time that there wasn't anything mean about me; so we got along, + right from the start.—[Holmes in his letter had said: “I rather + think The Innocents Abroad will have many more readers than Songs in + Many Keys... You will be stolen from a great deal oftener than + you will borrow from other people.”] + + I have met Dr. Holmes many times since; and lately he said—However, + I am wandering wildly away from the one thing which I got on my feet + to do; that is, to make my compliments to you, my fellow-teachers of + the great public, and likewise to say I am right glad to see that + Dr. Holmes is still in his prime and full of generous life, and as + age is not determined by years but by trouble, and by infirmities of + mind and body, I hope it may be a very long time yet before any can + truthfully say, “He is growing old.” + </pre> + <p> + Whatever Mark Twain may have lost on that former occasion, came back to + him multiplied when he had finished this happy tribute. So the year for + him closed prosperously. The rainbow of promise was justified. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0131" id="link2H_4_0131"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXXV. THE QUIETER THINGS OF HOME + </h2> + <p> + Upset and disturbed as Mark Twain often was, he seldom permitted his + distractions to interfere with the program of his fireside. His days and + his nights might be fevered, but the evenings belonged to another world. + The long European wandering left him more than ever enamoured of his home; + to him it had never been so sweet before, so beautiful, so full of peace. + Company came: distinguished guests and the old neighborhood circles. + Dinner-parties were more frequent than ever, and they were likely to be + brilliant affairs. The best minds, the brightest wits, gathered around + Mark Twain's table. Booth, Barrett, Irving, Sheridan, Sherman, Howells, + Aldrich: they all assembled, and many more. There was always some one on + the way to Boston or New York who addressed himself for the day or the + night, or for a brief call, to the Mark Twain fireside. + </p> + <p> + Certain visitors from foreign lands were surprised at his environment, + possibly expecting to find him among less substantial, more bohemian + surroundings. Henry Drummond, the author of Natural Law in the Spiritual + World, in a letter of this time, said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I had a delightful day at Hartford last Wednesday.... Called + on Mark Twain, Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe, and the widow of Horace + Bushnell. I was wishing A——had been at the Mark Twain interview. + He is funnier than any of his books, and to my surprise a most + respected citizen, devoted to things esthetic, and the friend of the + poor and struggling.—[Life of Henry Drummond, by George Adam + Smith.] +</pre> + <p> + The quieter evenings were no less delightful. Clemens did not often go + out. He loved his own home best. The children were old enough now to take + part in a form of entertainment that gave him and them especial + pleasure-acting charades. These he invented for them, and costumed the + little performers, and joined in the acting as enthusiastically and as + unrestrainedly as if he were back in that frolicsome boyhood on John + Quarles's farm. The Warner and Twichell children were often there and took + part in the gay amusements. The children of that neighborhood played their + impromptu parts well and naturally. They were in a dramatic atmosphere, + and had been from infancy. There was never any preparation for the + charades. A word was selected and the parts of it were whispered to the + little actors. Then they withdrew to the hall, where all sorts of costumes + had been laid out for the evening, dressed their parts, and each + detachment marched into the library, performed its syllable and retired, + leaving the audience, mainly composed of parents, to guess the answer. + Often they invented their own words, did their own costuming, and + conducted the entire performance independent of grown-up assistance or + interference. Now and then, even at this early period, they conceived and + produced little plays, and of course their father could not resist joining + in these. At other times, evenings, after dinner, he would sit at the + piano and recall the old darky songs-spirituals and jubilee + choruses-singing them with fine spirit, if not with perfect technic, the + children joining in these moving melodies. + </p> + <p> + He loved to read aloud to them. It was his habit to read his manuscript to + Mrs. Clemens, and, now that the children were older, he was likely to + include them in his critical audience. + </p> + <p> + It would seem to have been the winter after their return from Europe that + this custom was inaugurated, for 'The Prince and the Pauper' manuscript + was the first one so read, and it was just then he was resuming work on + this tale. Each afternoon or evening, when he had finished his chapter, he + assembled his little audience and read them the result. The children were + old enough to delight in that half real, half fairy tale of the wandering + prince and the royal pauper: and the charm and simplicity of the story are + measurably due to those two small listeners, to whom it was adapted in + that early day of its creation. + </p> + <p> + Clemens found the Prince a blessed relief from 'A Tramp Abroad', which had + become a veritable nightmare. He had thought it finished when he left the + farm, but discovered that he must add several hundred pages to complete + its bulk. It seemed to him that he had been given a life-sentence. He + wrote six hundred pages and tore up all but two hundred and eighty-eight. + He was about to destroy these and begin again, when Mrs. Clemens's health + became poor and he was advised to take her to Elmira, though it was then + midwinter. To Howells he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I said, “if there is one death that is painfuler than another, may I + get it if I don't do that thing.” + + So I took the 288 pages to Bliss and told him that was the very last + line I should ever write on this book (a book which required 600 + pages of MS., and I have written nearly four thousand, first and + last). + + I am as soary (and flighty) as a rocket to-day, with the unutterable + joy of getting that Old Man of the Sea off my back, where he has + been roosting more than a year and a half. +</pre> + <p> + They remained a month at Elmira, and on their return Clemens renewed work + on 'The Prince and the Pauper'. He reported to Howells that if he never + sold a copy his jubilant delight in writing it would suffer no diminution. + A week later his enthusiasm had still further increased: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I take so much pleasure in my story that I am loath to hurry, not + wanting to get it done. Did I ever tell you the plot of it? It + begins at 9 A.M., January 27, 1547. +</pre> + <p> + He follows with a detailed synopsis of his plot, which in this instance he + had worked out with unusual completeness—a fact which largely + accounts for the unity of the tale. Then he adds: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + My idea is to afford a realizing sense of the exceeding severity of + the laws of that day by inflicting some of their penalties upon the + king himself, and allowing him a chance to see the rest of them + applied to others; all of which is to account for certain mildnesses + which distinguished Edward VI.'s reign from those that precede it + and follow it. + + Imagine this fact: I have even fascinated Mrs. Clemens with this + yarn for youth. My stuff generally gets considerable damning with + faint praise out of her, but this time it is all the other way. She + is become the horse-leech's daughter, and my mill doesn't grind fast + enough to suit her. This is no mean triumph, my dear sir. +</pre> + <p> + He forgot, perhaps, to mention his smaller auditors, but we may believe + they were no less eager in their demands for the tale's continuance. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0132" id="link2H_4_0132"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXXVI. “A TRAMP ABROAD” + </h2> + <p> + 'A Tramp Abroad' came from the presses on the 13th of March, 1880. It had + been widely heralded, and there was an advance sale of twenty-five + thousand copies. It was of the same general size and outward character as + the Innocents, numerously illustrated, and was regarded by its publishers + as a satisfactory book. + </p> + <p> + It bore no very striking resemblance to the Innocents on close + examination. Its pictures-drawn, for the most part, by a young art student + named Brown, whom Clemens had met in Paris—were extraordinarily bad, + while the crude engraving process by which they had been reproduced, + tended to bring them still further into disrepute. A few drawings by True + Williams were better, and those drawn by Clemens himself had a value of + their own. The book would have profited had there been more of what the + author calls his “works of art.” + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain himself had dubious anticipations as to the book's reception. + </p> + <p> + But Howells wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Well, you are a blessing. You ought to believe in God's goodness, + since he has bestowed upon the world such a delightful genius as + yours to lighten its troubles. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens replied: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Your praises have been the greatest uplift I ever had. When a body + is not even remotely expecting such things, how the surprise takes + the breath away! We had been interpreting your stillness to + melancholy and depression, caused by that book. This is honest. + Why, everything looks brighter now. A check for untold cash could + not have made our hearts sing as your letter has done. +</pre> + <p> + A letter from Tauchnitz, proposing to issue an illustrated edition in + Germany, besides putting it into his regular series, was an added + satisfaction. To be in a Tauchnitz series was of itself a recognition of + the book's merit. + </p> + <p> + To Twichell, Clemens presented a special copy of the Tramp with a personal + inscription, which must not be omitted here: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MY DEAR “HARRIS”—NO, I MEAN MY DEAR JOE,—Just imagine it for a + moment: I was collecting material in Europe during fourteen months + for a book, and now that the thing is printed I find that you, who + were with me only a month and a half of the fourteen, are in actual + presence (not imaginary) in 440 of the 531 pages the book contains! + Hang it, if you had stayed at home it would have taken me fourteen + years to get the material. You have saved me an intolerable whole + world of hated labor, and I'll not forget it, my boy. + + You'll find reminders of things, all along, that happened to us, and + of others that didn't happen; but you'll remember the spot where + they were invented. You will see how the imaginary perilous trip up + the Riffelberg is preposterously expanded. That horse-student is on + page 192. The “Fremersberg” is neighboring. The Black Forest novel + is on page 211. I remember when and where we projected that: in the + leafy glades with the mountain sublimities dozing in the blue haze + beyond the gorge of Allerheiligen. There's the “new member,” page + 213; the dentist yarn, 223; the true Chamois, 242; at page 248 is a + pretty long yarn, spun from a mighty brief text meeting, for a + moment, that pretty girl who knew me and whom I had forgotten; at + 281 is “Harris,” and should have been so entitled, but Bliss has + made a mistake and turned you into some other character; 305 brings + back the whole Rigi tramp to me at a glance; at 185 and 186 are + specimens of my art; and the frontispiece is the combination which I + made by pasting one familiar picture over the lower half of an + equally familiar one. This fine work being worthy of Titian, I have + shed the credit of it upon him. Well, you'll find more reminders of + things scattered through here than are printed, or could have been + printed, in many books. + + All the “legends of the Neckar,” which I invented for that unstoried + region, are here; one is in the Appendix. The steel portrait of me + is just about perfect. + + We had a mighty good time, Joe, and the six weeks I would dearly + like to repeat any time; but the rest of the fourteen months-never. + With love, + Yours, MARK. + + Hartford, March 16, 1880. +</pre> + <p> + Possibly Twichell had vague doubts concerning a book of which he was so + large a part, and its favorable reception by the critics and the public + generally was a great comfort. When the Howells letter was read to him he + is reported as having sat with his hands on his knees, his head bent + forward—a favorite attitude—repeating at intervals: + </p> + <p> + “Howells said that, did he? Old Howells said that!” + </p> + <p> + There have been many and varying opinions since then as to the literary + merits of 'A Tramp Abroad'. Human tastes differ, and a “mixed” + book of this kind invites as many opinions as it has chapters. The word + “uneven” pretty safely describes any book of size, but it has + a special application to this one. Written under great stress and + uncertainty of mind, it could hardly be uniform. It presents Mark Twain at + his best, and at his worst. Almost any American writer was better than + Mark Twain at his worst: Mark Twain at his best was unapproachable. + </p> + <p> + It is inevitable that 'A Tramp Abroad' and 'The Innocents Abroad' should + be compared, though with hardly the warrant of similarity. The books are + as different as was their author at the periods when they were written. 'A + Tramp Abroad' is the work of a man who was traveling and observing for the + purpose of writing a book, and for no other reason. The Innocents Abroad + was written by a man who was reveling in every scene and experience, every + new phase and prospect; whose soul was alive to every historic + association, and to every humor that a gay party of young sight-seers + could find along the way. The note-books of that trip fairly glow with the + inspiration of it; those of the later wanderings are mainly filled with + brief, terse records, interspersed with satire and denunciation. In the + 'Innocents' the writer is the enthusiast with a sense of humor. In the + 'Tramp' he has still the sense of humor, but he has become a cynic; + restrained, but a cynic none the less. In the 'Innocents' he laughs at + delusions and fallacies—and enjoys them. In the 'Tramp' he laughs at + human foibles and affectations—and wants to smash them. Very often + he does not laugh heartily and sincerely at all, but finds his humor in + extravagant burlesque. In later life his gentler laughter, his old, + untroubled enjoyment of human weakness, would return, but just now he was + in that middle period, when the “damned human race” amused him + indeed, though less tenderly. (It seems proper to explain that in applying + this term to mankind he did not mean that the race was foredoomed, but + rather that it ought to be.) + </p> + <p> + Reading the 'Innocents', the conviction grows that, with all its faults, + it is literature from beginning to end. Reading the 'Tramp', the suspicion + arises that, regardless of technical improvement, its percentage of + literature is not large. Yet, as noted in an earlier volume, so eminent a + critic as Brander Matthews has pronounced in its favor, and he undoubtedly + had a numerous following; Howells expressed his delight in the book at the + time of its issue, though one wonders how far the personal element entered + into his enjoyment, and what would be his final decision if he read the + two books side by side to-day. He reviewed 'A Tramp Abroad' adequately and + finely in the Atlantic, and justly; for on the whole it is a vastly + entertaining book, and he did not overpraise it. + </p> + <p> + 'A Tramp Abroad' had an “Introduction” in the manuscript, a + pleasant word to the reader but not a necessary one, and eventually it was + omitted. Fortunately the appendix remained. Beyond question it contains + some of the very best things in the book. The descriptions of the German + Portier and the German newspaper are happy enough, and the essay on the + awful German language is one of Mark Twain's supreme bits of humor. It is + Mark Twain at his best; Mark Twain in a field where he had no rival, the + field of good-natured, sincere fun-making-ridicule of the manifest + absurdities of some national custom or institution which the nation itself + could enjoy, while the individual suffered no wound. The present Emperor + of Germany is said to find comfort in this essay on his national speech + when all other amusements fail. It is delicious beyond words to express; + it is unique. + </p> + <p> + In the body of the book there are also many delights. The description of + the ant might rank next to the German language almost in its humor, and + the meeting with the unrecognized girl at Lucerne has a lively charm. + </p> + <p> + Of the serious matter, some of the word-pictures are flawless in their + beauty; this, for instance, suggested by the view of the Jungfrau from + Interlaken: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There was something subduing in the influence of that silent and + solemn and awful presence; one seemed to meet the immutable, the + indestructible, the eternal, face to face, and to feel the trivial + and fleeting nature of his own existence the more sharply by the + contrast. One had the sense of being under the brooding + contemplation of a spirit, not an inert mass of rocks and ice—a + spirit which had looked down, through the slow drift of ages, upon a + million vanished races of men and judged them; and would judge a + million more—and still be there, watching unchanged and + unchangeable, after all life should be gone and the earth have + become a vacant desolation + + While I was feeling these things, I was groping, without knowing it, + toward an understanding of what the spell is which people find in + the Alps, and in no other mountains; that strange, deep, nameless + influence which, once felt, cannot be forgotten; once felt, leaves + always behind it a restless longing to feel it again—a longing + which is like homesickness; a grieving, haunting yearning, which + will plead, implore, and persecute till it has its will. I met + dozens of people, imaginative and unimaginative, cultivated and + uncultivated, who had come from far countries and roamed through the + Swiss Alps year after year—they could not explain why. They had + come first, they said, out of idle curiosity, because everybody + talked about it; they had come since because they could not help it, + and they should keep on coming, while they lived, for the same + reason; they had tried to break their chains and stay away, but it + was futile; now they had no desire to break them. Others came + nearer formulating what they felt; they said they could find perfect + rest and peace nowhere else when they were troubled: all frets and + worries and chafings sank to sleep in the presence of the benignant + serenity of the Alps; the Great Spirit of the mountain breathed his + own peace upon their hurt minds and sore hearts, and healed them; + they could not think base thoughts or do mean and sordid things + here, before the visible throne of God. +</pre> + <p> + Indeed, all the serious matter in the book is good. The reader's chief + regret is likely to be that there is not more of it. The main difficulty + with the humor is that it seems overdone. It is likely to be carried too + far, and continued too long. The ascent of Riffelberg is an example. + Though spotted with delights it seems, to one reader at least, less + admirable than other of the book's important features, striking, as it + does, more emphatically the chief note of the book's humor—that is + to say, exaggeration. + </p> + <p> + Without doubt there must be many—very many—who agree in + finding a fuller enjoyment in 'A Tramp Abroad' than in the 'Innocents'; + only, the burden of the world's opinion lies the other way. The world has + a weakness for its illusions: the splendor that falls on castle walls, the + glory of the hills at evening, the pathos of the days that are no more. It + answers to tenderness, even on the page of humor, and to genuine + enthusiasm, sharply sensing the lack of these things; instinctively + resenting, even when most amused by it, extravagance and burlesque. The + Innocents Abroad is more soul-satisfying than its successor, more poetic; + more sentimental, if you will. The Tramp contains better English usage, + without doubt, but it is less full of happiness and bloom and the halo of + romance. The heart of the world has felt this, and has demanded the book + in fewer numbers.—[The sales of the Innocents during the earlier + years more than doubled those of the Tramp during a similar period. The + later ratio of popularity is more nearly three to one. It has been + repeatedly stated that in England the Tramp has the greater popularity, an + assertion not sustained by the publisher's accountings.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0133" id="link2H_4_0133"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXXVII. LETTERS, TALES, AND PLANS + </h2> + <p> + The reader has not failed to remark the great number of letters which + Samuel Clemens wrote to his friend William Dean Howells; yet comparatively + few can even be mentioned. He was always writing to Howells, on every + subject under the sun; whatever came into his mind—business, + literature, personal affairs—he must write about it to Howells. + Once, when nothing better occurred, he sent him a series of telegrams, + each a stanza from an old hymn, possibly thinking they might carry + comfort.—[“Clemens had then and for many years the habit of + writing to me about what he was doing, and still more of what he was + experiencing. Nothing struck his imagination, in or out of the daily + routine, but he wished to write me of it, and he wrote with the greatest + fullness and a lavish dramatization, sometimes to the length of twenty or + forty pages:” (My Mark Twain, by W. D. Howells.)] Whatever of + picturesque happened in the household he immediately set it down for + Howells's entertainment. Some of these domestic incidents carry the flavor + of his best humor. Once he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Last night, when I went to bed, Mrs. Clemens said, “George didn't + take the cat down to the cellar; Rosa says he has left it shut up in + the conservatory.” So I went down to attend to Abner (the cat). + About three in the morning Mrs. C. woke me and said, “I do believe + I hear that cat in the drawing-room. What did you do with him?” I + answered with the confidence of a man who has managed to do the + right thing for once, and said, “I opened the conservatory doors, + took the library off the alarm, and spread everything open, so that + there wasn't any obstruction between him and the cellar.” Language + wasn't capable of conveying this woman's disgust. But the sense of + what she said was, “He couldn't have done any harm in the + conservatory; so you must go and make the entire house free to him + and the burglars, imagining that he will prefer the coal-bins to the + drawing-room. If you had had Mr. Howells to help you I should have + admired, but not have been astonished, because I should know that + together you would be equal to it; but how you managed to contrive + such a stately blunder all by yourself is what I cannot understand.” + + So, you see, even she knows how to appreciate our gifts.... + + I knocked off during these stirring hours, and don't intend to go to + work again till we go away for the summer, four or six weeks hence. + So I am writing to you, not because I have anything to say, but + because you don't have to answer and I need something to do this + afternoon. + + The rightful earl has—— + Friday, 7th. + + Well, never mind about the rightful earl; he merely wanted to-borrow + money. I never knew an American earl that didn't. +</pre> + <p> + After a trip to Boston, during which Mrs. Clemens did some bric-a-brac + shopping, he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mrs. Clemens has two imperishable topics now: the museum of andirons + which she collected and your dinner. It is hard to tell which she + admires the most. Sometimes she leans one way and sometimes the + other; but I lean pretty steadily toward the dinner because I can + appreciate that, whereas I am no prophet in andirons. There has + been a procession of Adams Express wagons filing before the door all + day delivering andirons. +</pre> + <p> + In a more serious vein he refers to the aged violinist Ole Bull and his + wife, whom they had met during their visit, and their enjoyment of that + gentle-hearted pair. + </p> + <p> + Clemens did some shorter work that spring, most of which found its way + into the Atlantic. “Edward Mills and George Benton,” one of + the contributions of this time, is a moral sermon in its presentation of a + pitiful human spectacle and misdirected human zeal. + </p> + <p> + It brought a pack of letters of approval, not only from laity, but the + church, and in some measure may have helped to destroy the silly + sentimentalism which manifested itself in making heroes of spectacular + criminals. That fashion has gone out, largely. Mark Twain wrote frequently + on the subject, though never more effectively than in this particular + instance. “Mrs. McWilliams and the Lightning” was another + Atlantic story, a companion piece to “Mrs. McWilliams's Experience + with the Membranous Croup,” and in the same delightful vein—a + vein in which Mark Twain was likely to be at his best—the + transcription of a scene not so far removed in character from that in the + “cat” letter just quoted: something which may or may not have + happened, but might have happened, approximately as set down. Rose Terry + Cooke wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Horrid man, how did you know the way I behave in a thunderstorm? + Have you been secreted in the closet or lurking on the shed roof? + I hope you got thoroughly rained on; and worst of all is that you + made me laugh at myself; my real terrors turned round and grimaced + at me: they were sublime, and you have made them ridiculous. Just + come out here another year and have four houses within a few rods of + you struck and then see if you write an article of such exasperating + levity. I really hate you, but you are funny. +</pre> + <p> + In addition to his own work, he conceived a plan for Orion. Clemens + himself had been attempting, from time to time, an absolutely faithful + autobiography; a document in which his deeds and misdeeds, even his moods + and inmost thoughts, should be truly set down. He had found it an + impossible task. He confessed freely that he lacked the courage, even the + actual ability, to pen the words that would lay his soul bare, but he + believed Orion equal to the task. He knew how rigidly honest he was, how + ready to confess his shortcomings, how eager to be employed at some + literary occupation. It was Mark Twain's belief that if Orion would record + in detail his long, weary struggle, his succession of attempts and + failures, his past dreams and disappointments, along with his sins of + omission and commission, it would make one of those priceless human + documents such as have been left by Benvenuto Cellini, Cazenova, and + Rousseau. + </p> + <p> + “Simply tell your story to yourself,” he wrote, “laying + all hideousness utterly bare, reserving nothing. Banish the idea of the + audience and all hampering things.” + </p> + <p> + Orion, out in Keokuk, had long since abandoned the chicken farm and a + variety of other enterprises. He had prospected insurance, mining, + journalism, his old trade of printing, and had taken down and hung up his + law shingle between each of these seizures. Aside from business, too, he + had been having a rather spectacular experience. He had changed his + politics three times (twice in one day), and his religion as many more. + Once when he was delivering a political harangue in the street, at night, + a parade of the opposition (he had but just abandoned them) marched by + carrying certain flaming transparencies, which he himself had made for + them the day before. Finally, after delivering a series of infidel + lectures; he had been excommunicated and condemned to eternal flames by + the Presbyterian Church. He was therefore ripe for any new diversion, and + the Autobiography appealed to him. He set about it with splendid + enthusiasm, wrote a hundred pages or so of his childhood with a startling + minutia of detail and frankness, and mailed them to his brother for + inspection. + </p> + <p> + They were all that Mark Twain had expected; more than he had expected. He + forwarded them to Howells with great satisfaction, suggesting, with + certain excisions, they be offered anonymously to the Atlantic readers. + </p> + <p> + But Howells's taste for realism had its limitations. He found the story + interesting—indeed, torturingly, heart-wringingly so—and, + advising strongly against its publication, returned it. + </p> + <p> + Orion was steaming along at the rate of ten to twenty pages a day now, + forwarding them as fast as written, while his courage was good and the + fires warm. Clemens, receiving a package by every morning mail, soon lost + interest, then developed a hunted feeling, becoming finally desperate. He + wrote wildly to shut Orion off, urging him to let his manuscript + accumulate, and to send it in one large consignment at the end. This Orion + did, and it is fair to say that in this instance at least he stuck to his + work faithfully to the bitter, disheartening end. And it would have been + all that Mark Twain had dreamed it would be, had Orion maintained the + simple narrative spirit of its early pages. But he drifted off into + theological byways; into discussions of his excommunication and + infidelities, which were frank enough, but lacked human interest. + </p> + <p> + In old age Mark Twain once referred to Orion's autobiography in print and + his own disappointment in it, which he attributed to Orion's having + departed from the idea of frank and unrestricted confession to exalt + himself as a hero-a statement altogether unwarranted, and due to one of + those curious confusions of memory and imagination that more than once + resulted in a complete reversal of the facts. A quantity of Orion's + manuscript has been lost and destroyed, but enough fragments of it remain + to show its fidelity to the original plan. It is just one long record of + fleeting hope, futile effort, and humiliation. It is the story of a life + of disappointment; of a man who has been defeated and beaten down and + crushed by the world until he has nothing but confession left to + surrender.—[Howells, in his letter concerning the opening chapters, + said that they would some day make good material. Fortunately the earliest + of these chapters were preserved, and, as the reader may remember, + furnished much of the childhood details for this biography.] + </p> + <p> + Whatever may have been Mark Twain's later impression of his brother's + manuscript, its story of failure and disappointment moved him to definite + action at the time. + </p> + <p> + Several years before, in Hartford, Orion had urged him to make his + publishing contracts on a basis of half profits, instead of on the royalty + plan. Clemens, remembering this, had insisted on such an arrangement for + the publication of 'A Tramp Abroad', and when his first statement came in + he realized that the new contract was very largely to his advantage. He + remembered Orion's anxiety in the matter, and made it now a valid excuse + for placing his brother on a firm financial footing. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Out of the suspicions which you bred in me years ago has grown this + result, to wit: that I shall within the twelve months get $40,000 out of + this Tramp, instead of $20,000. $20,000, after taxes and other expenses + are stripped away, is worth to the investor about $75 a month, so I shall + tell Mr. Perkins [his lawyer and financial agent] to make your check that + amount per month hereafter.... This ends the loan business, and hereafter + you can reflect that you are living not on borrowed money, but on money + which you have squarely earned, and which has no taint or savor of charity + about it, and you can also reflect that the money which you have been + receiving of me is charged against the heavy bill which the next publisher + will have to stand who gets a book of mine. + </pre> + <p> + From that time forward Orion Clemens was worth substantially twenty + thousand dollars—till the day of his death, and, after him, his + widow. Far better was it for him that the endowment be conferred in the + form of an income, than had the capital amount been placed in his hands. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0134" id="link2H_4_0134"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXXVIII. MARK TWAIN's ABSENT-MINDEDNESS. + </h2> + <p> + A number of amusing incidents have been more or less accurately reported + concerning Mark Twain's dim perception of certain physical surroundings, + and his vague resulting memories—his absent-mindedness, as we say. + </p> + <p> + It was not that he was inattentive—no man was ever less so if the + subject interested him—but only that the casual, incidental thing + seemed not to find a fixed place in his deeper consciousness. + </p> + <p> + By no means was Mark Twain's absent-mindedness a development of old age. + On the two occasions following he was in the very heyday of his mental + strength. Especially was it, when he was engaged upon some absorbing or + difficult piece of literature, that his mind seemed to fold up and shut + most of the world away. Soon after his return from Europe, when he was + still struggling with 'A Tramp Abroad', he wearily put the manuscript + aside, one day, and set out to invite F. G. Whitmore over for a game of + billiards. Whitmore lived only a little way down the street, and Clemens + had been there time and again. It was such a brief distance that he + started out in his slippers and with no hat. But when he reached the + corner where the house, a stone's-throw away, was in plain view he + stopped. He did not recognize it. It was unchanged, but its outlines had + left no impress upon his mind. He stood there uncertainly a little while, + then returned and got the coachman, Patrick McAleer, to show him the way. + </p> + <p> + The second, and still more picturesque instance, belongs also to this + period. One day, when he was playing billiards with Whitmore, George, the + butler, came up with a card. + </p> + <p> + “Who is he, George?” Clemens asked, without looking at the + card. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, suh, but he's a gentleman, Mr. Clemens.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, George, how many times have I told you I don't want to see + strangers when I'm playing billiards! This is just some book agent, or + insurance man, or somebody with something to sell. I don't want to see + him, and I'm not going to.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but this is a gentleman, I'm sure, Mr. Clemens. Just look at + his card, suh.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course, I see—nice engraved card—but I don't + know him, and if it was St. Peter himself I wouldn't buy the key of + salvation! You tell him so—tell him—oh, well, I suppose I've + got to go and get rid of him myself. I'll be back in a minute, Whitmore.” + </p> + <p> + He ran down the stairs, and as he got near the parlor door, which stood + open, he saw a man sitting on a couch with what seemed to be some framed + water-color pictures on the floor near his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, ha!” he thought, “I see. A picture agent. I'll soon + get rid of him.” + </p> + <p> + He went in with his best, “Well, what can I do for you?” air, + which he, as well as any man living, knew how to assume; a friendly air + enough, but not encouraging. The gentleman rose and extended his hand. + </p> + <p> + “How are you, Mr. Clemens?” he said. + </p> + <p> + Of course this was the usual thing with men who had axes to grind or goods + to sell. Clemens did not extend a very cordial hand. He merely raised a + loose, indifferent hand—a discouraging hand. + </p> + <p> + “And how is Mrs. Clemens?” asked the uninvited guest. + </p> + <p> + So this was his game. He would show an interest in the family and + ingratiate himself in that way; he would be asking after the children + next. + </p> + <p> + “Well—Mrs. Clemens is about as usual—I believe.” + </p> + <p> + “And the children—Miss Susie and little Clara?” + </p> + <p> + This was a bit startling. He knew their names! Still, that was easy to + find out. He was a smart agent, wonderfully smart. He must be got rid of. + </p> + <p> + “The children are well, quite well,” and (pointing down at the + pictures)—“We've got plenty like these. We don't want any + more. No, we don't care for any more,” skilfully working his visitor + toward the door as he talked. + </p> + <p> + The man, looking non-plussed—a good deal puzzled—allowed + himself to be talked into the hall and toward the front door. Here he + paused a moment: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Clemens, will you tell me where Mr. Charles Dudley Warner + lives?” + </p> + <p> + This was the chance! He would work him off on Charlie Warner. Perhaps + Warner needed pictures. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, certainly, certainly! Right across the yard. I'll show you. + There's a walk right through. You don't need to go around the front way at + all. You'll find him at home, too, I'm pretty sure”; all the time + working his caller out and down the step and in the right direction. + </p> + <p> + The visitor again extended his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Please remember me to Mrs. Clemens and the children.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, certainly, certainly, with pleasure. Good day. Yes, that's the + house Good-by.” + </p> + <p> + On the way back to the billiard-room Mrs. Clemens called to him. She was + ill that day. + </p> + <p> + “Youth!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Livy.” He went in for a word. + </p> + <p> + “George brought me Mr. B——'s card. I hope you were very + nice to him; the B——s were so nice to us, once last year, when + you were gone.”, + </p> + <p> + “The B——s—Why, Livy——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course, and I asked him to be sure to call when he came to + Hartford.” + </p> + <p> + He gazed at her helplessly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, he's been here.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Youth, have you done anything?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course I have. He seemed to have some pictures to sell, so + I sent him over to Warner's. I noticed he didn't take them with him. Land + sakes, Livy, what can I do?” + </p> + <p> + “Which way did he go, Youth?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I sent him to Charlie Warner's. I thought——” + </p> + <p> + “Go right after him. Go quick! Tell him what you have done.” + </p> + <p> + He went without further delay, bareheaded and in his slippers, as usual. + Warner and B——were in cheerful and friendly converse. They had + met before. Clemens entered gaily: + </p> + <p> + “Oh Yes, I see! You found him all right. Charlie, we met Mr. B——and + his wife in Europe last summer and they made things pleasant for us. I + wanted to come over here with him, but was a good deal occupied just then. + Livy isn't very well, but she seems a good deal better, so I just followed + along to have a good talk, all together.” + </p> + <p> + He stayed an hour, and whatever bad impression had formed in B——'s + mind faded long before the hour ended. Returning home Clemens noticed the + pictures still on the parlor floor. + </p> + <p> + “George,” he said, “what pictures are those that + gentleman left?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mr. Clemens, those are our own pictures. I've been + straightening up the room a little, and Mrs. Clemens had me set them + around to see how they would look in new places. The gentleman was looking + at them while he was waiting for you to come down.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0135" id="link2H_4_0135"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXXIX. FURTHER AFFAIRS AT THE FARM + </h2> + <p> + It was at Elmira, in July (1880), that the third little girl came—Jane + Lampton, for her grandmother, but always called Jean. She was a large, + lovely baby, robust and happy. When she had been with them a little more + than a month Clemens, writing to Twichell, said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR OLD JOE,—Concerning Jean Clemens, if anybody said he “didn't + see no pints about that frog that's any better'n any other frog,” I + should think he was convicting himself of being a pretty poor sort + of observer. She is the comeliest and daintiest and perfectest + little creature the continents and archipelagos have seen since the + Bay and Susy were her size. I will not go into details; it is not + necessary; you will soon be in Hartford, where I have already hired + a hall; the admission fee will be but a trifle. + + It is curious to note the change in the stock-quotations of the + Affection Board brought about by throwing this new security on the + market. Four weeks ago the children still put Mama at the head of + the list right along, where she had always been. But now: + + Jean + Mama + Motley |cats + Fraulein | + Papa + + That is the way it stands now. Mama is become No. 2; I have dropped + from No. 4, and am become No. 5. Some time ago it used to be nip + and tuck between me and the cats, but after the cats “developed” I + didn't stand any more show. + + Been reading Daniel Webster's Private Correspondence. Have read a + hundred of his diffuse, conceited, “eloquent,” bathotic (or + bathostic) letters, written in that dim (no, vanished) past, when he + was a student. And Lord! to think that this boy, who is so real to + me now, and so booming with fresh young blood and bountiful life, + and sappy cynicisms about girls, has since climbed the Alps of fame + and stood against the sun one brief, tremendous moment with the + world's eyes on him, and then——fzt! where is he? Why, the only + long thing, the only real thing about the whole shadowy business, is + the sense of the lagging dull and hoary lapse of time that has + drifted by since then; a vast, empty level, it seems, with a + formless specter glimpsed fitfully through the smoke and mist that + lie along its remote verge. + + Well, we are all getting along here first-rate. Livy gains strength + daily and sits up a deal; the baby is five weeks old and——But no + more of this. Somebody may be reading this letter eighty years + hence. And so, my friend (you pitying snob, I mean, who are holding + this yellow paper in your hand in 1960), save yourself the trouble + of looking further. I know how pathetically trivial our small + concerns would seem to you, and I will not let your eye profane + them. No, I keep my news; you keep your compassion. Suffice it you + to know, scoffer and ribald, that the little child is old and blind + now, and once more tooth less; and the rest of us are shadows these + many, many years. Yes, and your time cometh! + MARK. +</pre> + <p> + It is the ageless story. He too had written his youthful letters, and + later had climbed the Alps of fame and was still outlined against the sun. + Happily, the little child was to evade that harsher penalty—the + unwarranted bitterness and affront of a lingering, palsied age. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Clemens, in a letter somewhat later, set down a thought similar to + his: + </p> + <p> + “We are all going so fast. Pretty soon we shall have been dead a + hundred years.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens varied his work that summer, writing alternately on 'The Prince + and the Pauper' and on the story about 'Huck Finn', which he had begun + four years earlier. + </p> + <p> + He read the latter over and found in it a new interest. It did not + fascinate him, as did the story of the wandering prince. He persevered + only as the spirit moved him, piling up pages on both the tales. + </p> + <p> + He always took a boy's pride in the number of pages he could complete at a + sitting, and if the day had gone well he would count them triumphantly, + and, lighting a fresh cigar, would come tripping down the long stair that + led to the level of the farm-house, and, gathering his audience, would + read to them the result of his industry; that is to say, he proceeded with + the story of the Prince. Apparently he had not yet acquired confidence or + pride enough in poor Huck to exhibit him, even to friends. + </p> + <p> + The reference (in the letter to Twichell) to the cats at the farm + introduces one of the most important features of that idyllic resort. + There were always cats at the farm. Mark Twain himself dearly loved cats, + and the children inherited this passion. Susy once said: + </p> + <p> + “The difference between papa and mama is, that mama loves morals and + papa loves cats.” + </p> + <p> + The cats did not always remain the same, but some of the same ones + remained a good while, and were there from season to season, always + welcomed and adored. They were commendable cats, with such names as + Fraulein, Blatherskite, Sour Mash, Stray Kit, Sin, and Satan, and when, as + happened now and then, a vacancy occurred in the cat census there followed + deep sorrow and elaborate ceremonies. + </p> + <p> + Naturally, there would be stories about cats: impromptu bedtime stories, + which began anywhere and ended nowhere, and continued indefinitely through + a land inhabited only by cats and dreams. One of these stories, as + remembered and set down later, began: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Once upon a time there was a noble, big cat whose christian name was + Catasaqua, because she lived in that region; but she didn't have any + surname, because she was a short-tailed cat, being a manx, and + didn't need one. It is very just and becoming in a long-tailed cat + to have a surname, but it would be very ostentatious, and even + dishonorable, in a manx. Well, Catasaqua had a beautiful family of + catlings; and they were of different colors, to harmonize with their + characters. Cattaraugus, the eldest, was white, and he had high + impulses and a pure heart; Catiline, the youngest, was black, and he + had a self-seeking nature, his motives were nearly always base, he + was truculent and insincere. He was vain and foolish, and often + said that he would rather be what he was, and live like a bandit, + yet have none above him, than be a cat-o'-nine-tails and eat with + the king. +</pre> + <p> + And so on without end, for the audience was asleep presently and the end + could wait. + </p> + <p> + There was less enthusiasm over dogs at Quarry Farm. + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain himself had no great love for the canine breed. To a woman who + wrote, asking for his opinion on dogs, he said, in part: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + By what right has the dog come to be regarded as a “noble” animal? + The more brutal and cruel and unjust you are to him the more your + fawning and adoring slave he becomes; whereas, if you shamefully + misuse a cat once she will always maintain a dignified reserve + toward you afterward—you can never get her full confidence again. +</pre> + <p> + He was not harsh to dogs; occasionally he made friends with them. There + was once at the farm a gentle hound, named Bones, that for some reason + even won his way into his affections. Bones was always a welcome + companion, and when the end of summer came, and Clemens, as was his habit, + started down the drive ahead of the carriage, Bones, half-way to the + entrance, was waiting for him. Clemens stooped down, put his arms around + him, and bade him an affectionate good-by. He always recalled Bones + tenderly, and mentioned him in letters to the farm. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0136" id="link2H_4_0136"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXXX. COPYRIGHT AND OTHER FANCIES + </h2> + <p> + The continued assault of Canadian pirates on his books kept Mark Twain's + interest sharply alive on the subject of copyright reform. He invented one + scheme after another, but the public-mind was hazy on the subject, and + legislators were concerned with purposes that interested a larger number + of voters. There were too few authors to be of much value at the polls, + and even of those few only a small percentage were vitally concerned. For + the others, foreign publishers rarely paid them the compliment of piracy, + while at home the copyright limit of forty-two years was about forty-two + times as long as they needed protection. Bliss suggested a law making the + selling of pirated books a penal offense, a plan with a promising look, + but which came to nothing. + </p> + <p> + Clemens wrote to his old friend Rollin M. Daggett, who by this time was a + Congressman. Daggett replied that he would be glad to introduce any bill + that the authors might agree upon, and Clemens made at least one trip to + Washington to discuss the matter, but it came to nothing in the end. It + was a Presidential year, and it would do just as well to keep the authors + quiet by promising to do something next year. Any legislative stir is + never a good thing for a campaign. + </p> + <p> + Clemens's idea for copyright betterment was not a fixed one. Somewhat + later, when an international treaty which would include protection for + authors was being discussed, his views had undergone a change. He wrote, + asking Howells: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Will the proposed treaty protect us (and effectually) against + Canadian piracy? Because, if it doesn't, there is not a single + argument in favor of international copyright which a rational + American Senate could entertain for a moment. My notions have + mightily changed lately. I can buy Macaulay's History, three vols.; + bound, for $1.25; Chambers's Cyclopaedia, ten vols., cloth, for + $7.25 (we paid $60), and other English copyrights in proportion; I + can buy a lot of the great copyright classics, in paper, at from + three cents to thirty cents apiece. These things must find their + way into the very kitchens and hovels of the country. A generation + of this sort of thing ought to make this the most intelligent and + the best-read nation in the world. International copyright must + becloud this sun and bring on the former darkness and dime novel + reading. + + Morally this is all wrong; governmentally it is all right. For it + is the duty of governments and families to be selfish, and look out + simply for their own. International copyright would benefit a few + English authors and a lot of American publishers, and be a profound + detriment to twenty million Americans; it would benefit a dozen + American authors a few dollars a year, and there an end. The real + advantages all go to English authors and American publishers. + + And even if the treaty will kill Canadian piracy, and thus save me + an average of $5,000 a year, I'm down on it anyway, and I'd like + cussed well to write an article opposing the treaty. +</pre> + <p> + It is a characteristic expression. Mark Twain might be first to grab for + the life-preserver, but he would also be first to hand it to a humanity in + greater need. He could damn the human race competently, but in the final + reckoning it was the interest of that race that lay closest to his heart. + </p> + <p> + Mention has been made in an earlier chapter of Clemens's enthusiasms or + “rages” for this thing and that which should benefit + humankind. He was seldom entirely without them. Whether it was copyright + legislation, the latest invention, or a new empiric practice, he rarely + failed to have a burning interest in some anodyne that would provide + physical or mental easement for his species. Howells tells how once he was + going to save the human race with accordion letter-files—the system + of order which would grow out of this useful device being of such nerve + and labor saving proportions as to insure long life and happiness to all. + The fountain-pen, in its first imperfect form, must have come along about + the same time, and Clemens was one of the very earliest authors to own + one. For a while it seemed that the world had known no greater boon since + the invention of printing; but when it clogged and balked, or suddenly + deluged his paper and spilled in his pocket, he flung it to the outer + darkness. After which, the stylographic pen. He tried one, and wrote + severally to Dr. Brown, to Howells, and to Twichell, urging its adoption. + Even in a letter to Mrs. Howells he could not forget his new possession: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + And speaking of Howells, he ought to use the stylographic pen, the + best fountain-pen yet invented; he ought to, but of course he won't + —a blamed old sodden-headed conservative—but you see yourself what + a nice, clean, uniform MS. it makes. +</pre> + <p> + And at the same time to Twichell: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I am writing with a stylographic pen. It takes a royal amount of + cussing to make the thing go the first few days or a week, but by + that time the dullest ass gets the hang of the thing, and after that + no enrichments of expression are required, and said ass finds the + stylographic a genuine God's blessing. I carry one in each breeches + pocket, and both loaded. I'd give you one of them if I had you + where I could teach you how to use it—not otherwise. For the + average ass flings the thing out of the window in disgust the second + day, believing it hath no virtue, no merit of any sort; whereas the + lack lieth in himself, God of his mercy damn him. +</pre> + <p> + It was not easy to withstand Mark Twain's enthusiasm. Howells, Twichell, + and Dr. Brown were all presently struggling and swearing (figuratively) + over their stylographic pens, trying to believe that salvation lay in + their conquest. But in the midst of one letter, at last, Howells broke + down, seized his old steel weapon, and wrote savagely: “No white man + ought to use a stylographic pen, anyhow!” Then, with the more + ancient implement, continued in a calmer spirit. + </p> + <p> + It was only a little later that Clemens himself wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + You see I am trying a new pen. I stood the stylograph as long as I + could, and then retired to the pencil. The thing I am trying now is + that fountain-pen which is advertised to employ and accommodate + itself to any kind of pen. So I selected an ordinary gold pen—a + limber one—and sent it to New York and had it cut and fitted to + this thing. It goes very well indeed—thus far; but doubtless the + devil will be in it by tomorrow. +</pre> + <p> + Mark Twain's schemes were not all in the line of human advancement; some + of them were projected, primarily at least, for diversion. He was likely + at any moment to organize a club, a sort of private club, and at the time + of which we are writing he proposed what was called the “Modest” + Club. He wrote to Howells, about it: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + At present I am the only member, and as the modesty required must be + of a quite aggravated type the enterprise did seem for a time doomed + to stop dead still with myself, for lack of further material; but on + reflection I have come to the conclusion that you are eligible. + Therefore, I have held a meeting and voted to offer you the + distinction of membership. I do not know that we can find any + others, though I have had some thought of Hay, Warner, Twichell, + Aldrich, Osgood, Fields, Higginson, and a few more, together with + Mrs. Howells, Mrs. Clemens, and certain others of the sex. I have + long felt there ought to be an organized gang of our kind. +</pre> + <p> + He appends the by-laws, the main ones being: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The object of the club shall be to eat and talk. + + Qualification for membership shall be aggravated modesty, + unobtrusiveness, native humility, learning, talent, intelligence, + unassailable character. + + There shall be no officers except a president, and any member who + has anything to eat and talk about may constitute himself president + for the time being. + + Any brother or sister of the order finding a brother or a sister in + imminently deadly peril shall forsake his own concerns, no matter at + what cost, and call the police. + + Any member knowing anything scandalous about himself shall + immediately inform the club, so that they shall call a meeting and + have the first chance to talk about it. +</pre> + <p> + It was one of his whimsical fancies, and Howells replied that he would + like to join it, only that he was too modest—that is, too modest to + confess that he was modest enough for membership. + </p> + <p> + He added that he had sent a letter, with the rules, to Hay, but doubted + his modesty. He said: + </p> + <p> + “He will think he has a right to belong as much as you or I.” + </p> + <p> + Howells agreed that his own name might be put down, but the idea seems + never to have gone any further. Perhaps the requirements of membership + were too severe. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0137" id="link2H_4_0137"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXXXI. WORKING FOR GARFIELD + </h2> + <p> + Eighteen hundred and eighty was a Presidential year. General Garfield was + nominated on the Republican ticket (against General Hancock), and Clemens + found him satisfactory. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Garfield suits me thoroughly and exactly [he wrote Howells]. I prefer him + to Grant's friends. The Presidency can't add anything to Grant; he will + shine on without it. It is ephemeral; he is eternal. + </pre> + <p> + That was the year when the Republican party became panicky over the + disaffection in its ranks, due to the defeat of Grant in the convention, + and at last, by pleadings and promises, conciliated Platt and Conkling and + brought them into the field. General Grant also was induced to save the + party from defeat, and made a personal tour of oratory for that purpose. + He arrived in Hartford with his family on the 16th of October, and while + his reception was more or less partizan, it was a momentous event. A vast + procession passed in review before him, and everywhere houses and grounds + were decorated. To Mrs. Clemens, still in Elmira, Clemens wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I found Mr. Beals hard at work in the rain with his decorations. + With a ladder he had strung flags around our bedroom balcony, and + thence around to the porte-cochere, which was elaborately flagged; + thence the flags of all nations were suspended from a line which + stretched past the greenhouse to the limit of our grounds. Against + each of the two trees on the mound, half-way down to our gate, + stands a knight in complete armor. Piles of still-bundled flags + clutter up the ombra (to be put up), also gaudy shields of various + shapes (arms of this and other countries), also some huge glittering + arches and things done in gold and silver paper, containing mottoes + in big letters. I broke Mr. Beals's heart by persistently and + inflexibly annulling and forbidding the biggest and gorgeousest of + the arches—it had on it, in all the fires of the rainbow, “The Home + of Mark Twain,” in letters as big as your head. Oh, we're going to + be decorated sufficient, don't you worry about that, madam. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens was one of those delegated to receive Grant and to make a speech + of welcome. It was a short speech but an effective one, for it made Grant + laugh. He began: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I am among those deputed to welcome you to the sincere and cordial + hospitalities of Hartford, the city of the historic and revered + Charter Oak, of which most of the town is built.” He seemed to be + at loss what to say next, and, leaning over, pretended to whisper to + Grant; then, as if he had obtained the information he wanted, he + suddenly straightened up and poured out the old-fashioned eulogy on + Grant's achievements, adding, in an aside, as he finished: + + “I nearly forgot that part of my speech,” which evoked roars of + laughter from the assembly and a grim smile from Grant. He spoke of + Grant as being out of public employment, with private opportunities + closed against him, and added, “But your country will reward you, + never fear.” + </pre> + <p> + Then he closed: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When Wellington won Waterloo, a battle about on a level with any one + of a dozen of your victories, sordid England tried to pay him for + that service with wealth and grandeurs. She made him a duke and + gave him $4,000,000. If you had done and suffered for any other + country what you have done and suffered for your own you would have + been affronted in the same sordid way. But, thank God! this vast + and rich and mighty republic is imbued to the core with a delicacy + which will forever preserve her from so degrading you. + + Your country loves you—your country's proud of you—your country is + grateful to you. Her applauses, which have been many, thundering in + your ears all these weeks and months, will never cease while the + flag you saved continues to wave. + + Your country stands ready from this day forth to testify her + measureless love and pride and gratitude toward you in every + conceivable—inexpensive way. Welcome to Hartford, great soldier, + honored statesman, unselfish citizen. +</pre> + <p> + Grant's grim smile showed itself more than once during the speech, and + when Clemens reached the sentence that spoke of his country rewarding him + in “every conceivable—inexpensive way” his composure + broke up completely and he “nearly laughed his entire head off,” + according to later testimony, while the spectators shouted their approval. + </p> + <p> + Grant's son, Col. Fred Grant,—[Maj.-Gen'l, U. S. Army, 1906. Died + April, 1912.]—dined at the Clemens home that night, and Rev. Joseph + Twichell and Henry C. Robinson. Twichell's invitation was in the form of a + telegram. It said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I want you to dine with us Saturday half past five and meet Col. + Fred Grant. No ceremony. Wear the same shirt you always wear. +</pre> + <p> + The campaign was at its height now, and on the evening of October 26th + there was a grand Republican rally at the opera-house with addresses by + Charles Dudley Warner, Henry C. Robinson, and Mark Twain. It was an + unpleasant, drizzly evening, but the weather had no effect on their + audience. The place was jammed and packed, the aisles, the windows, and + the gallery railings full. Hundreds who came as late as the hour announced + for the opening were obliged to turn back, for the building had been + thronged long before. Mark Twain's speech that night is still remembered + in Hartford as the greatest effort of his life. It was hardly that, except + to those who were caught in the psychology of the moment, the tumult and + the shouting of patriotism, the surge and sweep of the political tide. The + roaring delight of the audience showed that to them at least it was + convincing. Howells wrote that he had read it twice, and that he could not + put it out of his mind. Whatever its general effect was need not now be + considered. Garfield was elected, and perhaps Grant's visit to Hartford + and the great mass-meeting that followed contributed their mite to that + result. + </p> + <p> + Clemens saw General Grant again that year, but not on political business. + The Educational Mission, which China had established in Hartford—a + thriving institution for eight years or more—was threatened now by + certain Chinese authorities with abolishment. Yung Wing (a Yale graduate), + the official by whom it had been projected and under whose management it + had prospered, was deeply concerned, as was the Rev. Joseph Twichell, + whose interest in the mission was a large and personal one. Yung Wing + declared that if influence could be brought upon Li Hung Chang, then the + most influential of Chinese counselors, the mission might be saved. + Twichell, remembering the great honors which Li Hung Chang had paid to + General Grant in China, also Grant's admiration of Mark Twain, went to the + latter without delay. Necessarily Clemens would be enthusiastic, and act + promptly. He wrote to Grant, and Grant replied by telegraph, naming a day + when he would see them in New York. + </p> + <p> + They met at the Fifth Avenue Hotel. Grant was in fine spirits, and by no + means the “silent man” of his repute. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He launched at once into as free and flowing talk as I have ever heard + [says Twichell], marked by broad and intelligent views on the subject of + China, her wants, disadvantages, etc. Now and then he asked a question, + but kept the lead of the conversation. At last he proposed, of his own + accord, to write a letter to Li Hung Chang, advising the continuance of + the Mission, asking only that I would prepare him some notes, giving him + points to go by. Thus we succeeded easily beyond our expectations, thanks, + very largely, to Clemens's assistance. + </pre> + <p> + Clemens wrote Howells of the interview, detailing at some length + Twichell's comical mixture of delight and chagrin at not being given time + to air the fund of prepared statistics with which he had come loaded. It + was as if he had come to borrow a dollar and had been offered a thousand + before he could unfold his case. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0138" id="link2H_4_0138"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXXXII. A NEW PUBLISHER + </h2> + <h3> + It was near the end of the year that Clemens wrote to his mother: + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have two stories, and by the verbal agreement they are both going + into the same book; but Livy says they're not, and by George! she + ought to know. She says they're going into separate books, and that + one of them is going to be elegantly gotten up, even if the elegance + of it eats up the publisher's profits and mine too. + + I anticipate that publisher's melancholy surprise when he calls here + Tuesday. However, let him suffer; it is his own fault. People who + fix up agreements with me without first finding out what Livy's + plans are take their fate into their own hands. + + I said two stories, but one of them is only half done; two or three + months' work on it yet. I shall tackle it Wednesday or Thursday; + that is, if Livy yields and allows both stories to go in one book, + which I hope she won't. +</pre> + <p> + The reader may surmise that the finished story—the highly regarded + story—was 'The Prince and the Pauper'. The other tale—the + unfinished and less considered one was 'The Adventures of Huckleberry + Finn'. Nobody appears to have been especially concerned about Huck, + except, possibly, the publisher. + </p> + <p> + The publisher was not the American Company. Elisha Bliss, after long ill + health, had died that fall, and this fact, in connection with a growing + dissatisfaction over the earlier contracts, had induced Clemens to listen + to offers from other makers of books. The revelation made by the “half-profit” + returns from A Tramp Abroad meant to him, simply that the profits had not + been fairly apportioned, and he was accordingly hostile. To Orion he wrote + that, had Bliss lived, he would have remained with the company and made it + reimburse him for his losses, but that as matters stood he would sever the + long connection. It seemed a pity, later, that he did this, but the break + was bound to come. Clemens was not a business man, and Bliss was not a + philanthropist. He was, in fact, a shrewd, capable publisher, who made as + good a contract as he could; yet he was square in his dealings, and the + contract which Clemens held most bitterly against him—that of + 'Roughing It'—had been made in good faith and in accordance with the + conditions, of that period. In most of the later contracts Clemens himself + had named his royalties, and it was not in human nature—business + human nature—for Bliss to encourage the size of these percentages. + If one wished to draw a strictly moral conclusion from the situation, one + might say that it would have been better for the American Publishing + Company, knowing Mark Twain, voluntarily to have allowed him half profits, + which was the spirit of his old understanding even if not the letter of + it, rather than to have waited till he demanded it and then to lose him by + the result. Perhaps that would be also a proper business deduction; only, + as a rule, business morals are regulated by the contract, and the contract + is regulated by the necessities and the urgency of demand. + </p> + <p> + Never mind. Mark Twain revised 'The Prince and the Pauper', sent it to + Howells, who approved of it mightily (though with reservations as to + certain chapters), and gave it to James R. Osgood, who was grateful and + agreed to make it into a book upon which no expense for illustration or + manufacture should be spared. It was to be a sort of partnership + arrangement as between author and publisher, and large returns were + anticipated. + </p> + <p> + Among the many letters which Clemens was just then writing to Howells one + was dated “Xmas Eve.” It closes with the customary + pleasantries and the final line: + </p> + <p> + “But it is growing dark. Merry Christmas to all of you!” + </p> + <p> + That last was a line of large significance. It meant that the air was + filled with the whisper of hovering events and that he must mingle with + the mystery of preparation. Christmas was an important season in the + Clemens home. Almost the entire day before, Patrick was out with the + sleigh, delivering food and other gifts in baskets to the poor, and the + home preparations were no less busy. There was always a tree—a large + one—and when all the gifts had been gathered in—when Elmira + and Fredonia had delivered their contributions, and Orion and his wife in + Keokuk had sent the annual sack of hickory-nuts (the big river-bottom + nuts, big as a silver dollar almost, such nuts as few children of this + later generation ever see) when all this happy revenue had been gathered, + and the dusk of Christmas Eve had hurried the children off to bed, it was + Mrs. Clemens who superintended the dressing of the tree, her husband + assisting, with a willingness that was greater than his skill, and with a + boy's anticipation in the surprise of it next morning. + </p> + <p> + Then followed the holidays, with parties and dances and charades, and + little plays, with the Warner and Twichell children. To the Clemens home + the Christmas season brought all the old round of juvenile happiness—the + spirit of kindly giving, the brightness and the merrymaking, the gladness + and tenderness and mystery that belong to no other season, and have been + handed down through all the ages since shepherds watched on the plains of + Bethlehem. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0139" id="link2H_4_0139"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXXXIII. THE THREE FIRES—SOME BENEFACTIONS + </h2> + <p> + The tradition that fires occur in groups of three was justified in the + Clemens household that winter. On each of three successive days flames + started that might have led to ghastly results. + </p> + <p> + The children were croupy, and one morning an alcohol lamp near little + Clara's bed, blown by the draught, set fire to the canopy. Rosa, the + nurse, entered just as the blaze was well started. She did not lose her + presence of mind,—[Rosa was not the kind to lose her head. Once, in + Europe, when Bay had crept between the uprights of a high balustrade, and + was hanging out over destruction, Rosa, discovering her, did not scream + but spoke to her playfully and lifted her over into safety.]—but + snatched the little girl out of danger, then opened the window and threw + the burning bedding on the lawn. The child was only slightly scorched, but + the escape was narrow enough. + </p> + <p> + Next day little Jean was lying asleep in her crib, in front of an open + wood fire, carefully protected by a firescreen, when a spark, by some + ingenuity, managed to get through the mesh of the screen and land on the + crib's lace covering. Jean's nurse, Julia, arrived to find the lace a gust + of flame and the fire spreading. She grabbed the sleeping Jean and + screamed. Rosa, again at hand, heard the scream, and rushing in once more + opened a window and flung out the blazing bedclothes. Clemens himself also + arrived, and together they stamped out the fire. + </p> + <p> + On the third morning, just before breakfast-time, Susy was practising at + the piano in the school-room, which adjoined the nursery. At one end of + the room a fire of large logs was burning. Susy was at the other end of + the room, her back to the fire. A log burned in two and fell, scattering + coals around the woodwork which supported the mantel. Just as the blaze + was getting fairly started a barber, waiting to trim Mr. Clemens's hair, + chanced to look in and saw what was going on. He stepped into the nursery + bath-room, brought a pitcher of water and extinguished the flames. This + period was always referred to in the Clemens household as the “three + days of fire.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens would naturally make philosophical deductions from these + coincidental dangers and the manner in which they had been averted. He + said that all these things were comprehended in the first act of the first + atom; that, but for some particular impulse given in that remote time, the + alcohol flame would not have blown against the canopy, the spark would not + have found its way through the screen, the log would not have broken apart + in that dangerous way, and that Rosa and Julia and the barber would not + have been at hand to save precious life and property. He did not go + further and draw moral conclusions as to the purpose of these things: he + never drew conclusions as to purpose. He was willing to rest with the + event. Logically he did not believe in reasons for things, but only that + things were. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, he was always trying to change them; to have a hand in their + improvement. Had you asked him, he would have said that this, too, was all + in the primal atom; that his nature, such as it was, had been minutely + embodied there. + </p> + <p> + In that charming volume, 'My Mark Twain', Howells tells us of Clemens's + consideration, and even tenderness, for the negro race and his effort to + repair the wrong done by his nation. Mark Twain's writings are full of + similar evidence, and in his daily life he never missed an opportunity to + pay tribute to the humbler race. He would go across the street to speak to + an old negro, and to take his hand. He would read for a negro church when + he would have refused a cathedral. Howells mentions the colored student + whose way through college Clemens paid as a partial reparation “due + from every white man to every black man.”—[Mark Twain paid two + colored students through college. One of them, educated in a Southern + institution, became a minister of the gospel. The other graduated from the + Yale Law School.]—This incident belongs just to the period of which + we are now writing, and there is another which, though different enough, + indicates the same tendency. + </p> + <p> + Garfield was about to be inaugurated, and it was rumored that Frederick + Douglass might lose his position as Marshal of the District of Columbia. + Clemens was continually besought by one and another to use his influence + with the Administration, and in every case had refused. Douglass had made + no such, application. Clemens, learning that the old negro's place was in + danger, interceded for him of his own accord. He closed his letter to + General Garfield: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A simple citizen may express a desire, with all propriety, in the + matter of recommendation to office, and so I beg permission to hope + that you will retain Mr. Douglass in his present office of Marshal + of the District of Columbia, if such a course will not clash with + your own preferences or with the expediencies and interests of your + Administration. I offer this petition with peculiar pleasure and + strong desire, because I so honor this man's high and blemishless + character, and so admire his brave, long crusade for the liberties + and elevation of his race. + + He is a personal friend of mine, but that is nothing to the point; + his history would move me to say these things without that, and I + feel them, too. +</pre> + <p> + Douglass wrote to Clemens, thanking him for his interest; at the end he + said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I think if a man is mean enough to want an office he ought to be + noble enough to ask for it, and use all honorable means of getting + it. I mean to ask, and I will use your letter as a part of my + petition. It will put the President-elect in a good humor, in any + case, and that is very important. + + With great respect, + Gratefully yours, + FREDERICK DOUGLASS. +</pre> + <p> + Mark Twain's benefactions were not all for the colored race. One morning + in February of this same year, while the family were at late breakfast, + George came in to announce “a lady waiting to see Mr. Clemens in the + drawing-room.” Clemens growled. + </p> + <p> + “George,” he said, “it's a book agent. I won't see her. + I'll die, in my tracks first.” + </p> + <p> + He went, fuming and raging inwardly, and began at once to ask the nature + of the intruder's business. Then he saw that she was very young and + modest, with none of the assurance of a canvasser, so he gave her a chance + to speak. She told him that a young man employed in Pratt & Whitney's + machine-shops had made a statue in clay, and would like to have Mark Twain + come and look at it and see if it showed any promise of future + achievement. His name, she said, was Karl Gerhardt, and he was her + husband. Clemens protested that he knew nothing about art, but the young + woman's manner and appearance (she seemed scarcely more than a child) won + him. He wavered, and finally promised that he would come the first chance + he had; that in fact he would come some time during the next week. On her + suggestion he agreed to come early in the week; he specified Monday, + “without fail.” + </p> + <p> + When she was gone, and the door shut behind her, his usual remorse came + upon him. He said to himself: + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't I go now? Why didn't I go with her now?” + </p> + <p> + She went from Clemens's over to Warner's. Warner also resisted, but, + tempted beyond his strength by her charm, laid down his work and went at + once. When he returned he urged Clemens to go without fail, and, true to + promise, Clemens took Patrick, the coachman, and hunted up the place. + Clemens saw the statue, a seminude, for which the young wife had posed, + and was struck by its evident merit. Mrs. Gerhardt told him the story of + her husband's struggles between his daily work and the effort to develop + his talent. He had never had a lesson, she said; if he could only have + lessons what might he not accomplish? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Clemens and Miss Spaulding called next day, and were equally carried + away with Karl Gerhardt, his young wife, and his effort to win his way in + art. Clemens and Warner made up their minds to interest themselves + personally in the matter, and finally persuaded the painter J. Wells + Champney to come over from New York and go with them to the Gerhardts' + humble habitation, to see his work. Champney approved of it. He thought it + well worth while, he said, for the people of Hartford to go to the expense + of Gerhardt's art education. He added that it would be better to get the + judgment of a sculptor. So they brought over John Quincy Adams Ward, who, + like all the others, came away bewitched with these young people and their + struggles for the sake of art. Ward said: + </p> + <p> + “If any stranger had told me that this 'prentice did not model that + thing from plaster-casts I should not have believed it. It's full of + crudities, but it's full of genius, too. Hartford must send him to Paris + for two years; then, if the promise holds good, keep him there three more.” + </p> + <p> + When he was gone Mrs. Clemens said: + </p> + <p> + “Youth, we won't wait for Hartford to do it. It would take too long. + Let us send the Gerhardts to Paris ourselves, and say nothing about it to + any one else.” + </p> + <p> + So the Gerhardts, provided with funds and an arrangement that would enable + them to live for five years in Paris if necessary, were started across the + sea without further delay. + </p> + <p> + Clemens and his wife were often doing something of this sort. There was + seldom a time that they were not paying the way of some young man or woman + through college, or providing means and opportunity for development in + some special field of industry. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0140" id="link2H_4_0140"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXXXIV. LITERARY PROJECTS AND A MONUMENT TO ADAM + </h2> + <p> + Mark Twain's literary work languished during this period. He had a world + of plans, as usual, and wrote plentifully, but without direction or + conclusion. “A Curious Experience,” which relates a + circumstance told to him by an army officer, is about the most notable of + the few completed manuscripts of this period. + </p> + <p> + Of the books projected (there were several), a burlesque manual of + etiquette would seem to have been the most promising. Howells had faith in + it, and of the still remaining fragments a few seem worth quoting: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + AT BILLIARDS + + If your ball glides along in the intense and immediate vicinity of + the object-ball, and a count seems exquisitely imminent, lift one + leg; then one shoulder; then squirm your body around in sympathy + with the direction of the moving ball; and at the instant when the + ball seems on the point of colliding throw up both of your arms + violently. Your cue will probably break a chandelier, but no + matter; you have done what you could to help the count. + + AT THE DOG-FIGHT + + If it occur in your block, courteously give way to strangers + desiring a view, particularly ladies. + + Avoid showing partiality toward the one dog, lest you hurt the + feelings of the other one. + + Let your secret sympathies and your compassion be always with the + under dog in the fight—this is magnanimity; but bet on the other + one—this is business. + + AT POKER + + If you draw to a flush and fail to fill, do not continue the + conflict. + + If you hold a pair of trays, and your opponent is blind, and it + costs you fifty to see him, let him remain unperceived. + + If you hold nothing but ace high, and by some means you know that + the other man holds the rest of the aces, and he calls, excuse + yourself; let him call again another time. + + WALL STREET + + If you live in the country, buy at 80, sell at 40. Avoid all forms + of eccentricity. + + IN THE RESTAURANT + + When you wish to get the waiter's attention, do not sing out “Say!” + Simply say “Szt!” + </pre> + <p> + His old abandoned notion of “Hamlet” with an added burlesque + character came back to him and stirred his enthusiasm anew, until even + Howells manifested deep interest in the matter. One reflects how young + Howells must have been in those days; how full of the joy of existence; + also how mournfully he would consider such a sacrilege now. + </p> + <p> + Clemens proposed almost as many things to Howells as his brother Orion + proposed to him. There was scarcely a letter that didn't contain some new + idea, with a request for advice or co-operation. Now it was some book that + he meant to write some day, and again it would be a something that he + wanted Howells to write. + </p> + <p> + Once he urged Howells to make a play, or at least a novel, out of Orion. + At another time he suggested as material the “Rightful Earl of + Durham.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He is a perfectly stunning literary bonanza, and must be dug up and put on + the market. You must get his entire biography out of him and have it ready + for Osgood's magazine. Even if it isn't worth printing, you must have it + anyway, and use it one of these days in one of your stories or in +a play. + </pre> + <p> + It was this notion about 'The American Claimant' which somewhat later + would lead to a collaboration with Howells on a drama, and eventually to a + story of that title. + </p> + <p> + But Clemens's chief interest at this time lay in publishing, rather than + in writing. His association with Osgood inspired him to devise new + ventures of profit. He planned a 'Library of American Humor', which + Howells (soon to leave the Atlantic) and “Charley” Clark—[Charles + Hopkins Clark, managing editor of the Hartford Courant.]—were to + edit, and which Osgood would publish, for subscription sale. Without + realizing it, Clemens was taking his first step toward becoming his own + publisher. His contract with Osgood for 'The Prince and the Pauper' made + him essentially that, for by the terms of it he agreed to supply all the + money for the making of the book, and to pay Osgood a royalty of seven and + one-half per cent. for selling it, reversing the usual conditions. The + contract for the Library of Humor was to be a similar one, though in this + case Osgood was to have a larger royalty return, and to share + proportionately in the expense and risk. Mark Twain was entering into a + field where he did not belong; where in the end he would harvest only + disaster and regret. + </p> + <p> + One curious project came to an end in 1881—the plan for a monument + to Adam. In a sketch written a great many years later Mark Twain tells of + the memorial which the Rev. Thomas K. Beecher and himself once proposed to + erect to our great common ancestor. The story is based on a real incident. + Clemens, in Elmira one day (it was October, 1879), heard of a jesting + proposal made by F. G. Hall to erect a monument in Elmira to Adam. The + idea promptly caught Mark Twain's fancy. He observed to Beecher that the + human race really showed a pretty poor regard for its great progenitor, + who was about to be deposed by Darwin's simian, not to pay him the tribute + of a single monument. Mankind, he said, would probably accept the monkey + ancestor, and in time the very name of Adam would be forgotten. He + declared Mr. Hall's suggestion to be a sound idea. + </p> + <p> + Beecher agreed that there were many reasons why a monument should be + erected to Adam, and suggested that a subscription be started for the + purpose. Certain business men, seeing an opportunity for advertising the + city, took the matter semi-seriously, and offered to contribute large sums + in the interest of the enterprise. Then it was agreed that Congress should + be petitioned to sanction the idea exclusively to Elmira, prohibiting the + erection of any such memorial elsewhere. A document to this effect was + prepared, headed by F. G. Hall, and signed by other leading citizens of + Elmira, including Beecher himself. General Joe Hawley came along just then + on a political speech-making tour. Clemens introduced him, and Hawley, in + turn, agreed to father the petition in Congress. What had begun merely as + pleasantry began to have a formidable look. + </p> + <p> + But alas! in the end Hawley's courage had failed him. He began to hate his + undertaking. He was afraid of the national laugh it would arouse, the + jeers of the newspapers. It was certain to leak out that Mark Twain was + behind it, in spite of the fact that his name nowhere appeared; that it + was one of his colossal jokes. Now and then, in the privacy of his own + room at night, Hawley would hunt up the Adam petition and read it and feel + the cold sweat breaking out. He postponed the matter from one session to + another till the summer of 1881, when he was about to sail for Europe. + Then he gave the document to his wife, to turn over to Clemens, and + ignominiously fled. + </p> + <p> + [For text of the petition in full, etc., see Appendix P, at the end of + last volume.] + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain's introduction of Hawley at Elmira contained this pleasantry: + “General Hawley was president of the Centennial Commission. Was a + gallant soldier in the war. He has been Governor of Connecticut, member of + Congress, and was president of the convention that nominated Abraham + Lincoln.” + </p> + <p> + General Hawley: “That nominated Grant.” + </p> + <p> + Twain: “He says it was Grant, but I know better. He is a member of + my church at Hartford, and the author of 'Beautiful Snow.' Maybe he will + deny that. But I am only here to give him a character from his last place. + As a pure citizen, I respect him; as a personal friend of years, I have + the warmest regard for him; as a neighbor whose vegetable garden joins + mine, why—why, I watch him. That's nothing; we all do that with any + neighbor. General Hawley keeps his promises, not only in private, but in + public. He is an editor who believes what he writes in his own paper. As + the author of 'Beautiful Snow' he added a new pang to winter. He is + broad-souled, generous, noble, liberal, alive to his moral and religious + responsibilities. Whenever the contribution-box was passed I never knew + him to take out a cent.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0141" id="link2H_4_0141"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXXXV. A TRIP WITH SHERMAN AND AN INTERVIEW WITH GRANT. + </h2> + <p> + The Army of the Potomac gave a dinner in Hartford on the 8th of June, + 1881. But little memory remains of it now beyond Mark Twain's speech and a + bill of fare containing original comments, ascribed to various revered + authors, such as Johnson, Milton, and Carlyle. A pleasant incident + followed, however, which Clemens himself used to relate. General Sherman + attended the banquet, and Secretary of War, Robert Lincoln. Next morning + Clemens and Twichell were leaving for West Point, where they were to + address the military students, guests on the same special train on which + Lincoln and Sherman had their private car. This car was at the end of the + train, and when the two passengers reached the station, Sherman and + Lincoln were out on the rear platform addressing the multitude. Clemens + and Twichell went in and, taking seats, waited for them. + </p> + <p> + As the speakers finished, the train started, but they still remained + outside, bowing and waving to the assembled citizens, so that it was under + good headway before they came in. Sherman came up to Clemens, who sat + smoking unconcernedly. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “who told you you could go in this car?” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody,” said Clemens. + </p> + <p> + “Do you expect to pay extra fare?” asked Sherman. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Clemens. “I don't expect to pay any fare.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you don't. Then you'll work your way.” + </p> + <p> + Sherman took off his coat and military hat and made Clemens put them on. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said he, “whenever the train stops you go out on + the platform and represent me and make a speech.” + </p> + <p> + It was not long before the train stopped, and Clemens, according to + orders, stepped out on the rear platform and bowed to the crowd. There was + a cheer at the sight of his military uniform. Then the cheer waned, became + a murmur of uncertainty, followed by an undertone of discussion. Presently + somebody said: + </p> + <p> + “Say, that ain't Sherman, that's Mark Twain,” which brought + another cheer. + </p> + <p> + Then Sherman had to come out too, and the result was that both spoke. They + kept this up at the different stations, and sometimes Lincoln came out + with them. When there was time all three spoke, much to the satisfaction + of their audiences. + </p> + <p> + President Garfield was shot that summer—July 2, 1881.—[On the + day that President Garfield was shot Mrs. Clemens received from their + friend Reginald Cholmondeley a letter of condolence on the death of her + husband in Australia; startling enough, though in reality rather + comforting than otherwise, for the reason that the “Mark Twain” + who had died in Australia was a very persistent impostor. Clemens wrote + Cholmondeley: “Being dead I might be excused from writing letters, + but I am not that kind of a corpse. May I never be so dead as to neglect + the hail of a friend from a far land.” Out of this incident grew a + feature of an anecdote related in Following the Equator the joke played by + the man from Bendigo.]—He died September 19th, and Arthur came into + power. There was a great feeling of uncertainty as to what he would do. He + was regarded as “an excellent gentleman with a weakness for his + friends.” Incumbents holding appointive offices were in a state of + dread. + </p> + <p> + Howells's father was consul at Toronto, and, believing his place to be in + danger, he appealed to his son. In his book Howells tells how, in turn, he + appealed to Clemens, remembering his friendship with Grant and Grant's + friendship with Arthur. He asked Clemens to write to Grant, but Clemens + would hear of nothing less than a call on the General, during which the + matter would be presented to him in person. Howells relates how the three + of them lunched together, in a little room just out of the office, on + baked beans and coffee, brought in from some near-by restaurant: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The baked beans and coffee were of about the railroad-refreshment + quality; but eating them with Grant was like sitting down to baked + beans and coffee with Julius Caesar, or Alexander, or some other + great Plutarchan captain. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens, also recalling the interview, once added some interesting + details: + </p> + <p> + “I asked Grant if he wouldn't write a word on a card which Howells + could carry to Washington and hand to the President. But, as usual, + General Grant was his natural self—that is to say, ready and + determined to do a great deal more for you than you could possibly ask him + to do. He said he was going to Washington in a couple of days to dine with + the President, and he would speak to him himself on the subject and make + it a personal matter. Grant was in the humor to talk—he was always + in a humor to talk when no strangers were present—he forced us to + stay and take luncheon in a private room, and continued to talk all the + time. It was baked beans, but how 'he sits and towers,' Howells said, + quoting Dame. Grant remembered 'Squibob' Derby (John Phoenix) at West + Point very well. He said that Derby was always drawing caricatures of the + professors and playing jokes on every body. He told a thing which I had + heard before but had never seen in print. A professor questioning a class + concerning certain particulars of a possible siege said, 'Suppose a + thousand men are besieging a fortress whose equipment of provisions is + so-and-so; it is a military axiom that at the end of forty-five days the + fort will surrender. Now, young men, if any of you were in command of such + a fortress, how would you proceed?' + </p> + <p> + “Derby held up his hand in token that he had an answer for that + question. He said, 'I would march out, let the enemy in, and at the end of + forty-five days I would change places with him.' + </p> + <p> + “I tried hard, during that interview, to get General Grant to agree + to write his personal memoirs for publication, but he wouldn't listen to + the suggestion. His inborn diffidence made him shrink from voluntarily + coming before the public and placing himself under criticism as an author. + He had no confidence in his ability to write well; whereas we all know now + that he possessed an admirable literary gift and style. He was also sure + that the book would have no sale, and of course that would be a humility + too. I argued that the book would have an enormous sale, and that out of + my experience I could save him from making unwise contracts with + publishers, and would have the contract arranged in such a way that they + could not swindle him, but he said he had no necessity for any addition to + his income. Of course he could not foresee that he was camping on a + volcano; that as Ward's partner he was a ruined man even then, and of + course I had no suspicion that in four years from that time I would become + his publisher. He would not agree to write his memoirs. He only said that + some day he would make very full notes and leave them behind him, and then + if his children chose to make them into a book they could do so. We came + away then. He fulfilled his promise entirely concerning Howells's father, + who held his office until he resigned of his own accord.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0142" id="link2H_4_0142"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXXXVI. “THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER” + </h2> + <p> + During the summer absence alterations were made in the Hartford home, with + extensive decorations by Tiffany. The work was not completed when the + family returned. Clemens wrote to Charles Warren Stoddard, then in the + Sandwich Islands, that the place was full of carpenters and decorators, + whereas what they really needed was “an incendiary.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + If the house would only burn down we would pack up the cubs and fly to the + isles of the blest, and shut ourselves up in the healing solitudes of the + crater of Haleakala and get a good rest, for the mails do not intrude + there, nor yet the telephone and the telegraph; and after resting we would + come down the mountain a piece and board with a godly, breech-clouted + native, and eat poi and dirt, and give thanks to whom all thanks belong + for these privileges, and never housekeep any more. + </pre> + <p> + They had acquired more ground. One morning in the spring Mark Twain had + looked out of his window just in time to see a man lift an ax to cut down + a tree on the lot which lay between his own and that of his neighbor. He + had heard that a house was to be built there; altogether too close to him + for comfort and privacy. Leaning out of the window he called sonorously, + “Woodman, spare that tree!” Then he hurried down, obtained a + stay of proceedings, and without delay purchased the lot from the + next-door neighbor who owned it, acquiring thereby one hundred feet of + extra ground and a greenhouse which occupied it. It was a costly purchase; + the owner knew he could demand his own price; he asked and received twelve + thousand dollars for the strip. + </p> + <p> + In November, Clemens found that he must make another trip to Canada. 'The + Prince and the Pauper' was ready for issue, and to insure Canadian + copyright the author must cross the line in person. He did not enjoy the + prospect of a cold-weather trip to the north, and tried to tempt Howells + to go with him, but only succeeded in persuading Osgood, who would do + anything or go anywhere that offered the opportunity for pleasant company + and junket. + </p> + <p> + It was by no means an unhappy fortnight. Clemens took a note-book, and + there are plenty of items that give reality to that long-ago excursion. He + found the Canadian girls so pretty that he records it as a relief now and + then to see a plain one. On another page he tells how one night in the + hotel a mouse gnawed and kept him awake, and how he got up and hunted for + it, hoping to destroy it. He made a rebus picture for the children of this + incident in a letter home. + </p> + <p> + We get a glimpse just here of how he was constantly viewing himself as + literary material—human material—an example from which some + literary aspect or lesson may be drawn. Following the mouse adventure we + find it thus dramatized: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Trace Father Brebeuf all through this trip, and when I am in a rage + and can't endure the mouse be reading of Brebeuf's marvelous + endurances and be shamed. + + And finally, after chasing the bright-eyed rascal several days, and + throwing things and trying to jump on him when in my overshoes, he + darts away with those same bright eyes, then straightway I read + Brebeuf's magnificent martyrdom, and turn in, subdued and wondering. + By and by the thought occurs to me, Brebeuf, with his good, great + heart would spare even that poor humble mousie—and for his sake so + will I—I will throw the trap in the fire—jump out of bed, reach + under, fetch out the trap, and find him throttled there and not two + minutes dead. +</pre> + <p> + They gave him a dinner in Montreal. Louis Frechette, the Canadian poet, + was there and Clemens addressed him handsomely in the response he made to + the speech of welcome. From that moment Frechette never ceased to adore + Mark Twain, and visited him soon after the return to Hartford. + </p> + <p> + 'The Prince and the Pauper' was published in England, Canada, Germany, and + America early in December, 1881. There had been no stint of money, and it + was an extremely handsome book. The pen-and-ink drawings were really + charming, and they were lavish as to number. It was an attractive volume + from every standpoint, and it was properly dedicated “To those + good-mannered and agreeable children, Susy and Clara Clemens.” + </p> + <p> + The story itself was totally unlike anything that Mark Twain had done + before. Enough of its plan and purpose has been given in former chapters + to make a synopsis of it unnecessary here. The story of the wandering + prince and the pauper king—an impressive picture of ancient legal + and regal cruelty—is as fine and consistent a tale as exists in the + realm of pure romance. Unlike its great successor, the 'Yankee at King + Arthur's Court', it never sacrifices the illusion to the burlesque, while + through it all there runs a delicate vein of humor. Only here and there is + there the slightest disillusion, and this mainly in the use of some + ultra-modern phrase or word. + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain never did any better writing than some of the splendid scenes + in 'The Prince and the Pauper'. The picture of Old London Bridge; the + scene in the vagabond's retreat, with its presentation to the little king + of the wrongs inflicted by the laws of his realm; the episode of the jail + where his revelation reaches a climax—these are but a few of the + splendid pictures which the chapters portray, while the spectacle of + England acquiring mercy at the hands of two children, a king and a beggar, + is one which only genius could create. One might quote here, but to do so + without the context would be to sacrifice atmosphere, half the story's + charm. How breathlessly interesting is the tale of it! We may imagine that + first little audience at Mark Twain's fireside hanging expectant on every + paragraph, hungry always for more. Of all Mark Twain's longer works of + fiction it is perhaps the most coherent as to plot, the most carefully + thought out, the most perfect as to workmanship. This is not to say that + it is his greatest story. Probably time will not give it that rank, but it + comes near to being a perfectly constructed story, and it has an + imperishable charm. + </p> + <p> + It was well received, though not always understood by the public. The + reviewer was so accustomed to looking for the joke in Mark Twain's work, + that he found it hard to estimate this new product. Some even went so far + as to refer to it as one of Mark Twain's big jokes, meaning probably that + he had created a chapter in English history with no foundation beyond his + fancy. Of course these things pained the author of the book. At one time, + he had been inclined to publish it anonymously, to avert this sort of + misunderstanding, and sometimes now he regretted not having done so. + </p> + <p> + Yet there were many gratifying notices. The New York Herald reviewer gave + the new book two columns of finely intelligent appreciation. In part he + said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + To those who have followed the career of Mark Twain, his appearance + as the author of a charming and noble romance is really no more of a + surprise than to see a stately structure risen upon sightly ground + owned by an architect of genius, with the resources of abundant + building material and ample training at command. Of his capacity + they have had no doubt, and they rejoice in his taking a step which + they felt he was able to take. Through all his publications may be + traced the marks of the path which half led up to this happy height. + His humor has often been the cloak, but not the mask, of a sturdy + purpose. His work has been characterized by a manly love of truth, + a hatred of humbug, and a scorn for cant. A genial warmth and + whole-souledness, a beautiful fancy, a fertile imagination, and a + native feeling for the picturesque and a fine eye for color have + afforded the basis of a style which has become more and more plastic + and finished. +</pre> + <p> + And in closing: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The characters of these two boys, twins in spirit, will rank with + the purest and loveliest creations of child-life in the realm of + fiction. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0143" id="link2H_4_0143"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXXXVII. CERTAIN ATTACKS AND REPRISALS + </h2> + <p> + Beyond the publication of The Prince and the Pauper Clemens was sparingly + represented in print in '81. A chapter originally intended for the book, + the “Whipping Boy's Story,” he gave to the Bazaar Budget, a + little special-edition sheet printed in Hartford. It was the story of the + 'Bull and the Bees' which he later adapted for use in Joan of Arc, the + episode in which Joan's father rides a bull to a funeral. Howells found + that it interfered with the action in the story of the Prince, and we + might have spared it from the story of Joan, though hardly without regret. + </p> + <p> + The military story “A Curious Episode” was published in the + Century Magazine for November. The fact that Clemens had heard, and not + invented, the story was set forth quite definitely and fully in his + opening paragraphs. Nevertheless, a “Captious Reader” thought + it necessary to write to a New York publication concerning its origin: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I am an admirer of the writings of Mr. Mark Twain, and consequently, + when I saw the table of contents of the November number of the + Century, I bought it and turned at once to the article bearing his + name, and entitled, “A Curious Episode.” When I began to read it, + it struck me as strangely familiar, and I soon recognized the story + as a true one, told me in the summer of 1878 by an officer of the + United States artillery. Query: Did Mr. Twain expect the public to + credit this narrative to his clever brain? +</pre> + <p> + The editor, seeing a chance for Mark Twain “copy,” forwarded a + clipping to Clemens and asked him if he had anything to say in the matter. + Clemens happened to know the editor very well, and he did have something + to say, not for print, but for the editor's private ear. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The newspaper custom of shooting a man in the back and then calling + upon him to come out in a card and prove that he was not engaged in + any infamy at the time is a good enough custom for those who think + it justifiable. Your correspondent is not stupid, I judge, but + purely and simply malicious. He knew there was not the shadow of a + suggestion, from the beginning to the end of “A Curious Episode,” + that the story was an invention; he knew he had no warrant for + trying to persuade the public that I had stolen the narrative and + was endeavoring to palm it off as a piece of literary invention; he + also knew that he was asking his closing question with a base + motive, else he would have asked it of me by letter, not spread it + before the public. + + I have never wronged you in any way, and I think you had no right to + print that communication; no right, neither any excuse. As to + publicly answering that correspondent, I would as soon think of + bandying words in public with any other prostitute. +</pre> + <p> + The editor replied in a manly, frank acknowledgment of error. He had not + looked up the article itself in the Century before printing the + communication. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Your letter has taught me a lesson,” he said. “The blame belongs + to me for not hunting up the proofs. Please accept my apology.” + </pre> + <p> + Mark Twain was likely to be peculiarly sensitive to printed innuendos. Not + always. Sometimes he would only laugh at them or be wholly indifferent. + Indeed, in his later years, he seldom cared to read anything about + himself, one way or the other, but at the time of which we are now writing—the + period of the early eighties—he was alive to any comment of the + press. His strong sense of humor, and still stronger sense of human + weakness, caused him to overlook many things which another might regard as + an affront; but if the thing printed were merely an uncalled-for slur, an + inexcusable imputation, he was inclined to rage and plan violence. + Sometimes he conceived retribution in the form of libel suits with heavy + damages. Sometimes he wrote blasting answers, which Mrs. Clemens would not + let him print. + </p> + <p> + At one time he planned a biography of a certain editor who seemed to be + making a deliberate personal campaign against his happiness. Clemens had + heard that offending items were being printed in this man's paper; + friends, reporting with customary exaggeration, declared that these sneers + and brutalities appeared almost daily, so often as to cause general + remark. + </p> + <p> + This was enough. He promptly began to collect data—damaging data—relating + to that editor's past history. He even set a man to work in England + collecting information concerning his victim. One of his notebooks + contains the memoranda; a few items will show how terrific was to be the + onslaught. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When the naturalist finds a new kind of animal, he writes him up in + the interest of science. No matter if it is an unpleasant animal. + This is a new kind of animal, and in the cause of society must be + written up. He is the polecat of our species.... He is + purely and simply a Guiteau with the courage left out.... + + Steel portraits of him as a sort of idiot, from infancy up—to a + dozen scattered through the book—all should resemble him. +</pre> + <p> + But never mind the rest. When he had got thoroughly interested in his + project Mrs. Clemens, who had allowed the cyclone to wear itself out a + little with its own vehemence, suggested that perhaps it would be well to + have some one make an examination of the files of the paper and see just + what had been said of him. So he subscribed for the paper himself and set + a man to work on the back numbers. We will let him tell the conclusion of + the matter himself, in his report of it to Howells: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The result arrived from my New York man this morning. Oh, what a + pitiable wreck of high hopes! The “almost daily” assaults for two + months consist of (1) adverse criticism of P. & P. from an enraged + idiot in the London Athenaeum, (2) paragraphs from some indignant + Englishman in the Pall Mall Gazette, who pays me the vast compliment + of gravely rebuking some imaginary ass who has set me up in the + neighborhood of Rabelais, (3) a remark about the Montreal dinner, + touched with an almost invisible satire, and, (4) a remark about + refusal of Canadian copyright, not complimentary, but not + necessarily malicious; and of course adverse criticism which is not + malicious is a thing which none but fools irritate themselves about. + + There, that is the prodigious bugaboo in its entirety! Can you + conceive of a man's getting himself into a sweat over so diminutive + a provocation? I am sure I can't. What the devil can those friends + of mine have been thinking about to spread those three or four + harmless things out into two months of daily sneers and affronts? + + Boiled down, this vast outpouring of malice amounts to simply this: + one jest (one can make nothing more serious than that out of it). + One jest, and that is all; for foreign criticisms do not count, they + being matters of news, and proper for publication in anybody's + newspaper.... + + Well, my mountain has brought forth its mouse, and a sufficiently + small mouse it is, God knows. And my three weeks' hard work has got + to go into the ignominious pigeonhole. Confound it, I could have + earned ten thousand dollars with infinitely less trouble. +</pre> + <p> + Howells refers to this episode, and concludes: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + So the paper was acquitted and the editor's life was spared. The + wretch never, never knew how near he was to losing it, with + incredible preliminaries of obloquy, and a subsequent devotion to + lasting infamy. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0144" id="link2H_4_0144"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXXXVIII. MANY UNDERTAKINGS + </h2> + <p> + To write a detailed biography of Mark Twain at this period would be to + defy perusal. Even to set down all the interesting matters, interesting to + the public of his time, would mean not only to exhaust the subject, but + the reader. He lived at the top of his bent, and almost anything relating + to him was regarded as news. Daily and hourly he mingled with important + matters or spoke concerning them. A bare list of the interesting events of + Mark Twain's life would fill a large volume. + </p> + <p> + He was so busy, so deeply interested himself, so vitally alive to every + human aspect. He read the papers through, and there was always enough to + arouse his indignation—the doings of the human race at large could + be relied upon to do that—and he would write, and write, to relieve + himself. His mental Niagara was always pouring away, turning out articles, + essays, communications on every conceivable subject, mainly with the idea + of reform. There were many public and private abuses, and he wanted to + correct them all. He covered reams of paper with lurid heresies—political, + religious, civic—for most of which there was no hope of publication. + </p> + <p> + Now and then he was allowed to speak out: An order from the Post-office + Department at Washington concerning the superscription of envelopes seemed + to him unwarranted. He assailed it, and directly the nation was being + entertained by a controversy between Mark Twain and the + Postmaster-General's private secretary, who subsequently receded from the + field. At another time, on the matter of postage rates he wrote a paper + which began: “Reader, suppose you were an idiot. And suppose you + were a member of Congress. But I repeat myself.” + </p> + <p> + It is hardly necessary to add that the paper did not appear. + </p> + <p> + On the whole, Clemens wrote his strictures more for relief than to print, + and such of these papers as are preserved to-day form a curious collection + of human documents. Many of them could be printed to-day, without distress + to any one. The conditions that invited them are changed; the heresies are + not heresies any more. He may have had some thought of their publication + in later years, for once he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sometimes my feelings are so hot that I have to take the pen and put + them out on paper to keep them from setting me afire inside; then + all that ink and labor are wasted because I can't print the result. + I have just finished an article of this kind, and it satisfies me + entirely. It does my weather-beaten soul good to read it, and + admire the trouble it would make for me and the family. I will + leave it behind and utter it from the grave. There is a free speech + there, and no harm to the family. +</pre> + <p> + It is too late and too soon to print most of these things; too late to + print them for their salutary influence, too soon to print them as + literature. + </p> + <p> + He was interested in everything: in music, as little as he knew of it. He + had an ear for melody, a dramatic vision, and the poetic conception of + sound. Reading some lilting lyric, he could fancy the words marching to + melody, and would cast about among his friends for some one who could + supply a tuneful setting. Once he wrote to his friend the Rev. Dr. Parker, + who was a skilled musician, urging him to write a score for Tennyson's + “Bugle Song,” outlining an attractive scheme for it which the + order of his fancy had formulated. Dr. Parker replied that the “Bugle + Song,” often attempted, had been the despair of many musicians. + </p> + <p> + He was interested in business affairs. Already, before the European trip, + he had embarked in, and disembarked from, a number of pecuniary ventures. + He had not been satisfied with a strictly literary income. The old + tendency to speculative investment, acquired during those restless mining + days, always possessed him. There were no silver mines in the East, no + holes in the ground into which to empty money and effort; but there were + plenty of equivalents—inventions, stock companies, and the like. He + had begun by putting five thousand dollars into the American Publishing + Company; but that was a sound and profitable venture, and deserves to be + remembered for that reason. + </p> + <p> + Then a man came along with a patent steam generator which would save + ninety per cent. of the fuel energy, or some such amount, and Mark Twain + was early persuaded that it would revolutionize the steam manufactures of + the world; so he put in whatever bank surplus he had and bade it a + permanent good-by. + </p> + <p> + Following the steam generator came a steam pulley, a rather small + contrivance, but it succeeded in extracting thirty-two thousand dollars + from his bank account in a period of sixteen months. + </p> + <p> + By the time he had accumulated a fresh balance, a new method of marine + telegraphy was shown him, so he used it up on that, twenty-five thousand + dollars being the price of this adventure. + </p> + <p> + A watch company in western New York was ready to sell him a block of + shares by the time he was prepared to experiment again, but it did not + quite live to declare the first dividend on his investment. + </p> + <p> + Senator John P. Jones invited him to join in the organization of an + accident insurance company, and such was Jones's confidence in the venture + that he guaranteed Clemens against loss. Mark Twain's only profit from + this source was in the delivery of a delicious speech, which he made at a + dinner given to Cornelius Walford, of London, an insurance author of + repute. Jones was paying back the money presently, and about that time + came a young inventor named Graham Bell, offering stock in a contrivance + for carrying the human voice on an electric wire. At almost any other time + Clemens would eagerly have welcomed this opportunity; but he was so + gratified at having got his money out of the insurance venture that he + refused to respond to the happy “hello” call of fortune. In + some memoranda made thirty years later he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I declined. I said I didn't want anything more to do with wildcat + speculation. Then he [Bell] offered the stock to me at twenty-five. I said + I didn't want it at any price. He became eager; insisted that I take five + hundred dollars' worth. He said he would sell me as much as I wanted for + five hundred dollars; offered to let me gather it up in my hands and + measure it in a plug hat; said I could have a whole hatful for five + hundred dollars. But I was the burnt child, and I resisted all these + temptations-resisted them easily; went off with my check intact, and next + day lent five thousand of it, on an unendorsed note, to a friend who was + going to go bankrupt three days later. + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + About the end of the year I put up a telephone wire from my house down to + the Courant office, the only telephone wire in town, and the first one + that was ever used in a private house in the world. + </pre> + <p> + That had been only a little while before he sailed for Europe. When he + returned he would have been willing to accept a very trifling interest in + the telephone industry for the amount of his insurance salvage. + </p> + <p> + He had a fresh interest in patents now, and when his old friend Dan Slote + got hold of a new process for engraving—the kaolatype or “chalk-plate” + process—which was going to revolutionize the world of illustration, + he promptly acquired a third interest, and eventually was satisfied with + nothing short of control. It was an ingenious process: a sheet of + perfectly smooth steel was coated with a preparation of kaolin (or china + clay), and a picture was engraved through the coating down to the steel + surface. This formed the matrix into which the molten metal was poured to + make the stereotype plate, or die, for printing. It was Clemens's notion + that he could utilize this process for the casting of brass dies for + stamping book covers—that, so applied, the fortunes to be made out + of it would be larger and more numerous. Howells tells how, at one time, + Clemens thought the “damned human race” was almost to be + redeemed by a process of founding brass without air-bubbles in it. This + was the time referred to and the race had to go unredeemed; for, after + long, worried, costly experimenting, the brass refused to accommodate its + nature to the new idea, while the chalk plate itself, with all its + subsidiary and auxiliary possibilities, was infringed upon right and left, + and the protecting patent failed to hold. The process was doomed, in any + case. It was barely established before the photographic etching processes, + superior in all ways, were developed and came quickly into use. The + kaolatype enterprise struggled nobly for a considerable period. Clemens + brought his niece's husband, young Charles L. Webster, from Fredonia to + manage it for him, and backed it liberally. Webster was vigorous, + hard-working, and capable; but the end of each month showed a deficit, + until Clemens was from forty to fifty thousand dollars out of pocket in + his effort to save the race with chalk and brass. The history of these + several ventures (and there were others), dismissed here in a few + paragraphs, would alone make a volume not without interest, certainly not + without humor. Following came the type-setting machine, but we are not + ready for that. Of necessity it is a longer, costlier story. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Clemens did not share his enthusiasm in these various enterprises. + She did not oppose them, at least not strenuously, but she did not + encourage them. She did not see their need. Their home was beautiful; they + were happy; he could do his work in deliberation and comfort. She knew the + value of money better than he, cared more for it in her own way; but she + had not his desire to heap up vast and sudden sums, to revel in torrential + golden showers. She was willing to let well enough alone. Clemens could + not do this, and suffered accordingly. In the midst of fair home + surroundings and honors we find him writing to his mother: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Life has come to be a very serious matter with me. I have a + badgered, harassed feeling a good part of my time. It comes mainly + from business responsibilities and annoyances. +</pre> + <p> + He had no moral right to be connected with business at all. He had a large + perception of business opportunity, but no vision of its requirements—its + difficulties and details. He was the soul of honor, but in anything + resembling practical direction he was but a child. During any period of + business venture he was likely to be in hot water: eagerly excited, + worried, impatient; alternately suspicious and over-trusting, rash, + frenzied, and altogether upset. + </p> + <p> + Yet never, even to the end of his days, would he permanently lose faith in + speculative ventures. Human traits are sometimes modified, but never + eliminated. The man who is born to be a victim of misplaced confidence + will continue to be one so long as he lives and there are men willing to + victimize him. The man who believes in himself as an investor will uphold + that faith against all disaster so long as he draws breath and has money + to back his judgments. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0145" id="link2H_4_0145"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXXXIX. FINANCIAL AND LITERARY + </h2> + <p> + By a statement made on the 1st of January, 1882, of Mark Twain's + disbursements for the preceding year, it is shown that considerably more + than one hundred thousand dollars had been expended during that twelve + months. It is a large sum for an author to pay out in one year. It would + cramp most authors to do it, and it was not the best financing, even for + Mark Twain. It required all that the books could earn, all the income from + the various securities, and a fair sum from their principal. There is a + good deal of biography in the statement. Of the amount expended forty-six + thousand dollars represented investments; but of this comfortable sum less + than five thousand dollars would cover the legitimate purchases; the rest + had gone in the “ventures” from whose bourne no dollar would + ever return. Also, a large sum had been spent for the additional land and + for improvements on the home—somewhat more than thirty thousand + dollars altogether—while the home life had become more lavish, the + establishment had grown each year to a larger scale, the guests and + entertainments had become more and more numerous, until the actual + household expenditure required about as much as the books and securities + could earn. + </p> + <p> + It was with the increased scale of living that Clemens had become + especially eager for some source of commercial profit; something that + would yield a return, not in paltry thousands, but hundreds of thousands. + Like Colonel Sellers, he must have something with “millions in it.” + Almost any proposition that seemed to offer these possible millions + appealed to him, and in his imagination he saw the golden freshet pouring + in. + </p> + <p> + His natural taste was for a simple, inexpensive life; yet in his large + hospitality, and in a certain boyish love of grandeur, he gloried in the + splendor of his entertainment, the admiration and delight of his guests. + There were always guests; they were coming and going constantly. Clemens + used to say that he proposed to establish a bus line between their house + and the station for the accommodation of his company. He had the Southern + hospitality. Much company appealed to a very large element in his + strangely compounded nature. For the better portion of the year he was + willing to pay the price of it, whether in money or in endurance, and Mrs. + Clemens heroically did her part. She loved these things also, in her own + way. She took pride in them, and realized that they were a part of his + vast success. Yet in her heart she often longed for the simpler life—above + all, for the farm life at Elmira. Her spirit cried out for the rest and + comfort there. In one of her letters she says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The house has been full of company, and I have been “whirled + around.” How can a body help it? Oh, I cannot help sighing for the + peace and quiet of the farm. This is my work, and I know that I do + very wrong when I feel chafed by it, but how can I be right about + it? Sometimes it seems as if the simple sight of people would drive + me mad. I am all wrong; if I would simply accept the fact that this + is my work and let other things go, I know I should not be so + fretted; but I want so much to do other things, to study and do + things with the children, and I cannot. + + I have the best French teacher that I ever had, and if I could give + any time to it I could not help learning French. +</pre> + <p> + When we reflect on the conditions, we are inclined to say how much better + it would have been to have remained there among the hills in that quiet, + inexpensive environment, to have let the world go. But that was not + possible. The game was of far larger proportions than any that could be + restricted to the limits of retirement and the simpler round of life. Mark + Twain's realm had become too large for his court to be established in a + cottage. + </p> + <p> + It is hard to understand that in spite of a towering fame Mark Twain was + still not regarded by certain American arbiters of reputations as a + literary fixture; his work was not yet recognized by them as being of + important meaning and serious purport. + </p> + <p> + In Boston, at that time still the Athens of America, he was enjoyed, + delighted in; but he was not honored as being quite one of the elect. + Howells tells us that: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In proportion as people thought themselves refined they questioned + that quality which all recognize in him now, but which was then the + inspired knowledge of the simple-hearted multitude. +</pre> + <p> + Even at the Atlantic dinners his place was “below the salt”—a + place of honor, but not of the greatest honor. He did not sit on the dais + with Emerson, Longfellow, Holmes, Whittier, Howells, and Aldrich. We of a + later period, who remember him always as the center of every board—the + one supreme figure, his splendid head and crown of silver hair the target + of every eye-find it hard to realize the Cambridge conservatism that clad + him figuratively always in motley, and seated him lower than the throne + itself. + </p> + <p> + Howells clearly resented this condition, and from random review corners + had ventured heresy. Now in 1882 he seems to have determined to declare + himself, in a large, free way, concerning his own personal estimate of + Mark Twain. He prepared for the Century Magazine a biographical + appreciation, in which he served notice to the world that Mark Twain's + work, considered even as literature, was of very considerable importance + indeed. Whether or not Howells then realized the “inspired knowledge + of the multitude,” and that most of the nation outside of the + counties of Suffolk and Essex already recognized his claim, is not + material. Very likely he did; but he also realized the mental dusk of the + cultured uninspired and his prerogative to enlighten them. His Century + article was a kind of manifesto, a declaration of independence, no longer + confined to the obscurities of certain book notices, where of course one + might be expected to stretch friendly favor a little for a popular + Atlantic contributor. In the open field of the Century Magazine Howells + ventured to declare: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mark Twain's humor is as simple in form and as direct as the + statesmanship of Lincoln or the generalship of Grant. + + When I think how purely and wholly American it is I am a little + puzzled at its universal acceptance.... Why, in fine, should + an English chief-justice keep Mark Twain's books always at hand? + Why should Darwin have gone to them for rest and refreshment at + midnight, when spent with scientific research? + + I suppose that Mark Twain transcends all other American humorists in + the universal qualities. He deals very little with the pathetic, + which he nevertheless knows very well how to manage, as he has + shown, notably in the true story of the old slave-mother; but there + is a poetic lift in his work, even when he permits you to recognize + it only as something satirized. There is always the touch of + nature, the presence of a sincere and frank manliness in what he + says, the companionship of a spirit which is at once delightfully + open and deliciously shrewd. Elsewhere I have tried to persuade the + reader that his humor is, at its best, the foamy break of the strong + tide of earnestness in him. But it would be limiting him unjustly + to describe him as a satirist, and it is hardly practicable to + establish him in people's minds as a moralist; he has made them + laugh too long; they will not believe him serious; they think some + joke is always intended. This is the penalty, as Dr. Holmes has + pointed out, of making one's first success as a humorist. There was + a paper of Mark Twain's printed in the Atlantic Monthly some years + ago and called, “The Facts Concerning the Late Carnival of Crime in + Connecticut,” which ought to have won popular recognition of the + ethical intelligence underlying his humor. It was, of course, + funny; but under the fun it was an impassioned study of the human + conscience. Hawthorne or Bunyan might have been proud to imagine + that powerful allegory, which had a grotesque force far beyond + either of them.... Yet it quite failed of the response I had hoped + for it, and I shall not insist here upon Mark Twain as a moralist; + though I warn the reader that if he leaves out of the account an + indignant sense of right and wrong, a scorn of all affectations and + pretense, an ardent hate of meanness and injustice, he will come + infinitely short of knowing Mark Twain. +</pre> + <p> + Howells realized the unwisdom and weakness of dogmatic insistence, and the + strength of understatement. To him Mark Twain was already the moralist, + the philosopher, and the statesman; he was willing that the reader should + take his time to realize these things. The article, with his subject's + portrait as a frontispiece, appeared in the Century for September, 1882. + If it carried no new message to many of its readers, it at least set the + stamp of official approval upon what they had already established in their + hearts. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0146" id="link2H_4_0146"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXL. DOWN THE RIVER + </h2> + <p> + Osgood was doing no great things with The Prince and the Pauper, but + Clemens gave him another book presently, a collection of sketches—The + Stolen White Elephant. It was not an especially important volume, though + some of the features, such as “Mrs. McWilliams and the Lightning” + and the “Carnival of Crime,” are among the best of their sort, + while the “Elephant” story is an amazingly good take-off on + what might be called the spectacular detective. The interview between + Inspector Blunt and the owner of the elephant is typical. The inspector + asks: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Now what does this elephant eat, and how much?” + + “Well, as to what he eats—he will eat anything. He will eat a man, + he will eat a Bible; he will eat anything between a man and a + Bible.” + + “Good-very good, indeed, but too general. Details are necessary; + details are the only valuable thing in our trade. Very well, as to + men. At one meal—or, if you prefer, during one day—how many men + will he eat if fresh?” + + “He would not care whether they were fresh or not; at a single meal + he would eat five ordinary men.” + + “Very good; five men. We will put that down. What nationalities + would he prefer?” + + “He is indifferent about nationalities. He prefers acquaintances, + but is not prejudiced against strangers.” + + “Very good. Now, as to Bibles. How many Bibles would he eat at a + meal?” + + “He would eat an entire edition.” + </pre> + <p> + Clemens and Osgood had a more important publishing enterprise on hand. The + long-deferred completion of the Mississippi book was to be accomplished; + the long-deferred trip down the river was to be taken. Howells was going + abroad, but the charming Osgood was willing to make the excursion, and a + young man named Roswell Phelps, of Hartford, was engaged as a stenographer + to take the notes. + </p> + <p> + Clemens made a farewell trip to Boston to see Howells before his + departure, and together they went to Concord to call on Emerson; a + fortunate thing, for he lived but a few weeks longer. They went again in + the evening, not to see him, but to stand reverently outside and look at + his house. This was in April. Longfellow had died in March. The fact that + Howells was going away indefinitely, made them reminiscent and sad. + </p> + <p> + Just what breach Clemens committed during this visit is not remembered + now, and it does not matter; but his letter to Howells, after his return + to Hartford, makes it pretty clear that it was memorable enough at the + time. Half-way in it he breaks out: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + But oh, hell, there is no hope for a person that is built like me, + because there is no cure, no cure. + + If I could only know when I have committed a crime: then I could + conceal it, and not go stupidly dribbling it out, circumstance by + circumstance, into the ears of a person who will give no sign till + the confession is complete; and then the sudden damnation drops on a + body like the released pile-driver, and he finds himself in the + earth down to his chin. When he merely supposed he was being + entertaining. +</pre> + <p> + Next day he was off with Osgood and the stenographer for St. Louis, where + they took the steamer Gold Dust down the river. He intended to travel + under an assumed name, but was promptly recognized, both at the Southern + Hotel and on the boat. In 'Life on the Mississippi' he has given us the + atmosphere of his trip, with his new impressions of old scenes; also his + first interview with the pilot, whom he did not remember, but who easily + remembered him. + </p> + <p> + “I did not write that story in the book quite as it happened,” + he reflected once, many years later. “We went on board at night. + Next morning I was up bright and early and out on deck to see if I could + recognize any of the old landmarks. I could not remember any. I did not + know where we were at all. It was a new river to me entirely. I climbed up + in the pilot-house and there was a fellow of about forty at the wheel. I + said 'Good morning.' He answered pleasantly enough. His face was entirely + strange to me. Then I sat down on the high seat back of the wheel and + looked out at the river and began to ask a few questions, such as a + landsman would ask. He began, in the old way, to fill me up with the old + lies, and I enjoyed letting him do it. Then suddenly he turned round to me + and said: + </p> + <p> + “'I want to get a cup of coffee. You hold her, will you, till I come + back?' And before I could say a word he was out of the pilot-house door + and down the steps. It all came so suddenly that I sprang to the wheel, of + course, as I would have done twenty years before. Then in a moment I + realized my position. Here I was with a great big steamboat in the middle + of the Mississippi River, without any further knowledge than that fact, + and the pilot out of sight. I settled my mind on three conclusions: first, + that the pilot might be a lunatic; second, that he had recognized me and + thought I knew the river; third, that we were in a perfectly safe place, + where I could not possibly kill the steamboat. But that last conclusion, + though the most comforting, was an extremely doubtful one. I knew + perfectly well that no sane pilot would trust his steamboat for a single + moment in the hands of a greenhorn unless he were standing by the + greenhorn's side. Of course, by force of habit, when I grabbed the wheel, + I had taken the steering marks ahead and astern, and I made up my mind to + hold her on those marks to the hair; but I could feel myself getting old + and gray. Then all at once I recognized where we were; we were in what is + called the Grand Chain—a succession of hidden rocks, one of the most + dangerous places on the river. There were two rocks there only about + seventy feet apart, and you've got to go exactly between them or wreck the + boat. There was a time when I could have done it without a tremor, but + that time wasn't now. I would have given any reasonable sum to have been + on the shore just at that moment. I think I was about ready to drop dead + when I heard a step on the pilothouse stair; then the door opened and the + pilot came in, quietly picking his teeth, and took the wheel, and I + crawled weakly back to the seat. He said: + </p> + <p> + “'You thought you were playing a nice joke on me, didn't you? You + thought I didn't know who you were. Why, I recognized that drawl of yours + as soon as you opened your mouth.' + </p> + <p> + “I said, 'Who the h—l are you? I don't remember you.' + </p> + <p> + “'Well,' he said, 'perhaps you don't, but I was a cub pilot on the + river before the war, when you were a licensed pilot, and I couldn't get a + license when I was qualified for one, because the Pilots' Association was + so strong at that time that they could keep new pilots out if they wanted + to, and the law was that I had to be examined by two licensed pilots, and + for a good while I could not get any one to make that examination. But one + day you and another pilot offered to do it, and you put me through a good, + healthy examination and indorsed my application for a license. I had never + seen you before, and I have never seen you since until now, but I + recognized you.' + </p> + <p> + “'All right,' I said. 'But if I had gone half a mile farther with + that steamboat we might have all been at the bottom of the river.' + </p> + <p> + “We got to be good friends, of course, and I spent most of my time + up there with him. When we got down below Cairo, and there was a big, full + river—for it was highwater season and there was no danger of the + boat hitting anything so long as she kept in the river—I had her + most of the time on his watch. He would lie down and sleep, and leave me + there to dream that the years had not slipped away; that there had been no + war, no mining days, no literary adventures; that I was still a pilot, + happy and care-free as I had been twenty years before.” + </p> + <p> + From the book we gather that he could not keep out of the pilot-house. He + was likely to get up at any hour of the night to stand his watch, and + truly enough the years had slipped away. He was the young fellow in his + twenties again, speculating on the problems of existence and reading his + fortune in the stars. To heighten the illusion, he had himself called + regularly with the four-o'clock watch, in order not to miss the mornings.—[It + will repay the reader to turn to chap. xxx of Life on the Mississippi, and + consider Mark Twain's word-picture of the river sunrise.] + </p> + <p> + The majesty and solitude of the river impressed him more than ever before, + especially its solitude. It had been so full of life in his time; now it + had returned once more to its primal loneliness—the loneliness of + God. + </p> + <p> + At one place two steamboats were in sight at once an unusual spectacle. + Once, in the mouth of a river, he noticed a small boat, which he made out + to be the Mark Twain. There had been varied changes in twenty-one years; + only the old fascination of piloting remained unchanged. To Bixby + afterward he wrote: + </p> + <p> + “I'd rather be a pilot than anything else I've ever done in my life. + How do you run Plum Point?” + </p> + <p> + He met Bixby at New Orleans. Bixby was captain now on a splendid new + Anchor Line steamboat, the City of Baton Rouge. The Anchor Line steamers + were the acme of Mississippi River steamboat-building, and they were about + the end of it. They were imposingly magnificent, but they were only as + gorgeous clouds that marked the sunset of Mississippi steamboat travel. + Mark Twain made his trip down the river just in time. + </p> + <p> + In New Orleans he met George W. Cable and Joel Chandler Harris, and they + had a fraternizing good time together, mousing about the old French + Quarter or mingling with the social life of the modern city. He made a + trip with Bixby in a tug to the Warmouth plantation, and they reviewed old + days together, as friends parted for twenty-one years will. Altogether the + New Orleans sojourn was a pleasant one, saddened only by a newspaper + notice of the death, in Edinburgh, of the kindly and gentle and beloved + Dr. Brown. + </p> + <p> + Clemens arranged to make the trip up the river on the Baton Rouge. Bixby + had one pretty inefficient pilot, and stood most of the watches himself, + so that with “Sam Clemens” in the pilot-house with him, it was + wonderfully like those old first days of learning the river, back in the + fifties. + </p> + <p> + “Sam was ever making notes in his memorandum-book, just as he always + did,” said Bixby to the writer, recalling the time. “I was + sorry I had to stay at the wheel so much. I wanted to have more time with + Sam without thinking of the river at all. Sam was sorry, too, from what he + wrote after he got home.” + </p> + <p> + Bixby produced a letter in the familiar handwriting. It was a tender, + heart-spoken letter: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I didn't see half enough of you. It was a sore disappointment. + Osgood could have told you, if he would—discreet old dog—I + expected to have you with me all the time. Altogether, the most + pleasant part of my visit with you was after we arrived in St. + Louis, and you were your old natural self again. Twenty years have + not added a month to your age or taken a fraction from your + loveliness. +</pre> + <p> + Said Bixby: “When we arrived in St. Louis we came to the Planters' + Hotel; to this very table where you and I are sitting now, and we had a + couple of hot Scotches between us, just as we have now, and we had a good + last talk over old times and old acquaintances. After he returned to New + York he sent for my picture. He wanted to use it in his book.” + </p> + <p> + At St. Louis the travelers changed boats, and proceeded up the Mississippi + toward St. Paul. Clemens laid off three days at Hannibal. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Delightful days [he wrote home]. Loitering around all day long, examining + the old localities, and talking with the gray heads who were boys and + girls with me thirty or forty years ago. I spent my nights with John and + Helen Garth, three miles from town, in their spacious and beautiful house. + They were children with me, and afterward schoolmates. That world which I + knew in its blooming youth is old and bowed and melancholy now; its soft + cheeks are leathery and withered, the fire has gone out of its eyes, the + spring from its step. It will be dust and ashes when I come again. + </pre> + <p> + He had never seen the far upper river, and he found it very satisfying. + His note-book says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The bluffs all along up above St. Paul are exquisitely beautiful + where the rough and broken turreted rocks stand up against the sky + above the steep, verdant slopes. They are inexpressibly rich and + mellow in color; soft dark browns mingled with dull greens—the very + tints to make an artist worship. +</pre> + <p> + In a final entry he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The romance of boating is gone now. In Hannibal the steamboat man is no + longer the god. + </pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0147" id="link2H_4_0147"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXLI. LITERATURE AND PHILOSOPHY + </h2> + <p> + Clemens took a further step toward becoming a publisher on his own + account. Not only did he contract to supply funds for the Mississippi + book, but, as kaolatype, the chalk-engraving process, which had been + lingeringly and expensively dying, was now become merely something to + swear at, he had his niece's husband, Webster, installed as Osgood's New + York subscription manager, with charge of the general agencies. There was + no delay in this move. Webster must get well familiarized with the work + before the Mississippi book's publication. + </p> + <p> + He had expected to have the manuscript finished pretty promptly, but the + fact that he had promised it for a certain time paralyzed his effort. Even + at the farm he worked without making much headway. At the end of October + he wrote Howells: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The weather turned cold, and we had to rush home, while I still + lacked thirty thousand words. I had been sick and got delayed. I + am going to write all day and two-thirds of the night until the + thing is done or break down at it. The spur and burden of the + contract are intolerable to me. I can endure the irritation of it + no longer. I went to work at nine o'clock yesterday morning and + went to bed an hour after midnight. Result of the day (mainly + stolen from books though credit given), 9,500 words, so I reduced my + burden by one-third in one day. It was five days' work in one. I + have nothing more to borrow or steal; the rest must all be written. + It is ten days' work and unless something breaks it will be finished + in five. +</pre> + <p> + He had sworn once, when he had finally finished 'A Tramp Abroad', that he + would never limit himself as to time again. But he had forgotten that vow, + and was suffering accordingly. + </p> + <p> + Howells wrote from London urging him to drop everything and come over to + Europe for refreshment. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We have seen lots of nice people, and have been most pleasantly made + of; but I would rather have you smoke in my face and talk for half a + day, just for pleasure, than to go to the best house or club in + London. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens answered: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yes, it would be more profitable to me to do that because, with your + society to help me, I should swiftly finish this now apparently + interminable book. But I cannot come, because I am not boss here, + and nothing but dynamite can move Mrs. Clemens away from home in the + winter season. +</pre> + <p> + This was in November, and he had broken all restrictions as to time. He + declared that he had never had such a fight over any book before, and that + he had told Osgood and everybody concerned that they must wait. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have said with sufficient positiveness that I will finish the book + at no particular date; that I will not hurry it; that I will not + hurry myself; that I will take things easy and comfortably—write + when I choose to write, leave it alone when I do so prefer... + I have got everything at a dead standstill, and that is where it + ought to be, and that is where it must remain; to follow any other + policy would be to make the book worse than it already is. I ought + to have finished it before showing it to anybody, and then sent it + across the ocean to you to be edited, as usual; for you seem to be a + great many shades happier than you deserve to be, and if I had + thought of this thing earlier I would have acted upon it and taken + the tuck somewhat out of your joyousness. +</pre> + <p> + It was a long, heartfelt letter. Near the end of it he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Cable has been here, creating worshipers on all hands. He is a + marvelous talker on a deep subject. I do not see how even Spencer + could unwind a thought more smoothly or orderly, and do it in + cleaner, clearer, crisper English. He astounded Twichell with his + faculty. You know that when it comes down to moral honesty, limpid + innocence, and utterly blemishless piety, the apostles were mere + policemen to Cable; so with this in mind you must imagine him at a + midnight dinner in Boston the other night, where we gathered around + the board of the Summerset Club: Osgood full, Boyle O'Reilly full, + Fairchild responsively loaded, and Aldrich and myself possessing the + floor and properly fortified. Cable told Mrs. Clemens, when he + returned here, that he seemed to have been entertaining himself with + horses, and had a dreamy idea that he must have gone to Boston in a + cattle-car. It was a very large time. He called it an orgy. And + no doubt it was, viewed from his standpoint. +</pre> + <p> + Osgood wanted Mark Twain to lecture that fall, as preliminary advertising + for the book, with “Life on the Mississippi” as his subject. + Osgood was careful to make this proposition by mail, and probably it was + just as well; for if there was any single straw that could have broken the + back of Clemens's endurance and made him violent at this particular time, + it was a proposition to go back on the platform. His answer to Osgood has + not been preserved. + </p> + <p> + Clemens spoke little that winter. In February he addressed the Monday + Evening Club on “What is Happiness?” presenting a theory which + in later years he developed as a part of his “gospel,” and + promulgated in a privately printed volume, 'What is Man'? It is the + postulate already mentioned in connection with his reading of Lecky, that + every human action, bad or good, is the result of a selfish impulse; that + is to say, the result of a desire for the greater content of spirit. It is + not a new idea; philosophers in all ages have considered it, and accepted + or rejected it, according to their temperament and teachings, but it was + startling and apparently new to the Monday Evening Club. They scoffed and + jeered at it; denounced it as a manifest falsity. They did not quite see + then that there may be two sorts of selfishness—brutal and divine; + that he who sacrifices others to himself exemplifies the first, whereas he + who sacrifices himself for others personifies the second—the divine + contenting of his soul by serving the happiness of his fellow-men. Mark + Twain left this admonition in furtherance of that better sort: + </p> + <p> + “Diligently train your ideals upward, and still upward, toward a + summit where you will find your chiefest pleasure, in conduct which, while + contenting you, will be sure to confer benefits upon your neighbor and the + community.” + </p> + <p> + It is a divine admonition, even if, in its suggested moral freedom, it + does seem to conflict with that other theory—the inevitable sequence + of cause and effect, descending from the primal atom. There is seeming + irrelevance in introducing this matter here; but it has a chronological + relation, and it presents a mental aspect of the time. Clemens was + forty-eight, and becoming more and more the philosopher; also, in logic at + least, a good deal of a pessimist. He made a birthday aphorism on the + subject: + </p> + <p> + “The man who is a pessimist before he is forty-eight knows too much; + the man who is an optimist after he is forty-eight knows too little.” + </p> + <p> + He was never more than a pessimist in theory at any time. In practice he + would be a visionary; a builder of dreams and fortunes, a veritable + Colonel Sellers to the end of his days. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0148" id="link2H_4_0148"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXLII. “LIFE ON THE MISSISSIPPI” + </h2> + <p> + The Mississippi book was completed at last and placed in Osgood's hands + for publication. Clemens was immensely fond of Osgood. Osgood would come + down to Hartford and spend days discussing plans and playing billiards, + which to Mark Twain's mind was the proper way to conduct business. + Besides, there was Webster, who by this time, or a very little later, had + the word “publisher” printed in his letter-heads, and was + truly that, so far as the new book was concerned. Osgood had become little + more than its manufacturer, shipping-agent, and accountant. It should be + added that he made the book well, though somewhat expensively. He was + unaccustomed to getting out big subscription volumes. His taste ran to the + artistic, expensive product. + </p> + <p> + “That book cost me fifty thousand dollars to make,” Clemens + once declared. “Bliss could have built a whole library, for that + sum. But Osgood was a lovely fellow.” + </p> + <p> + Life on the Mississippi was issued about the middle of May. It was a + handsome book of its kind and a successful book, but not immediately a + profitable one, because of the manner of its issue. It was experimental, + and experiments are likely to be costly, even when successful in the final + result. + </p> + <p> + Among other things, it pronounced the final doom of kaolatype. The artists + who drew the pictures for it declined to draw them if they were to be + reproduced by that process, or indeed unless some one of the lately + discovered photographic processes was used. Furthermore, the latter were + much cheaper, and it was to the advantage of Clemens himself to repudiate + kaolatype, even for his own work. + </p> + <p> + Webster was ordered to wind up the last ends of the engraving business + with as little sacrifice as possible, and attend entirely to more + profitable affairs—viz., the distribution of books. + </p> + <p> + As literature, the Mississippi book will rank with Mark Twain's best—so + far, at least, as the first twenty chapters of it are concerned. Earlier + in this history these have been sufficiently commented upon. They + constitute a literary memorial seemingly as enduring as the river itself. + </p> + <p> + Concerning the remaining chapters of the book, they are also literature, + but of a different class. The difference is about the same as that between + 'A Tramp Abroad' and the 'Innocents'. It is the difference between the + labors of love and duty; between art and industry, literature and + journalism. + </p> + <p> + But the last is hardly fair. It is journalism, but it is literary + journalism, and there are unquestionably areas that are purely literary, + and not journalistic at all. There would always be those in any book of + travel he might write. The story of the river revisited is an interesting + theme; and if the revisiting had been done, let us say eight or ten years + earlier, before he had become a theoretical pessimist, and before the + river itself had become a background for pessimism, the tale might have + had more of the literary glamour and illusion, even if less that is + otherwise valuable. + </p> + <p> + 'Life on the Mississippi' has been always popular in Germany. The Emperor + William of Germany once assured Mark Twain that it was his favorite + American book, and on the same evening the portier of the author's lodging + in Berlin echoed the Emperor's opinion. + </p> + <p> + Paul Lindau, a distinguished German author and critic, in an interview at + the time the Mississippi book appeared, spoke of the general delight of + his countrymen in its author. When he was asked, “But have not the + Germans been offended by Mark Twain's strictures on their customs and + language in his 'Tramp Abroad'?” he replied, “We know what we + are and how we look, and the fanciful picture presented to our eyes gives + us only food for laughter, not cause for resentment. The jokes he made on + our long words, our inverted sentences, and the position of the verb have + really led to a reform in style which will end in making our language as + compact and crisp as the French or English. I regard Mark Twain as the + foremost humorist of the age.” + </p> + <p> + Howells, traveling through Europe, found Lindau's final sentiment echoed + elsewhere, and he found something more: in Europe Mark Twain was already + highly regarded as a serious writer. Thomas Hardy said to Howells one + night at dinner: + </p> + <p> + “Why don't people understand that Mark Twain is not merely a great + humorist? He is a very remarkable fellow in a very different way.” + </p> + <p> + The Rev. Dr. Parker, returning from England just then, declared that, + wherever he went among literary people, the talk was about Mark Twain; + also that on two occasions, when he had ventured diffidently to say that + he knew that author personally, he was at once so evidently regarded as + lying for effect that he felt guilty, and looked it, and did not venture + to say it any more; thus, in a manner, practising untruth to save his + reputation for veracity. + </p> + <p> + That the Mississippi book throughout did much to solidify this foreign + opinion of Mark Twain's literary importance cannot be doubted, and it is + one of his books that will live longest in the memory of men. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0149" id="link2H_4_0149"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXLIII. A GUEST OF ROYALTY + </h2> + <p> + For purposes of copyright another trip to Canada was necessary, and when + the newspapers announced (May, 1883) that Mark Twain was about to cross + the border there came one morning the following telegram: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Meeting of Literary and Scientific Society at Ottawa from 22d to + 26th. It would give me much pleasure if you could come and be my + guest during that time. + + LORNE. +</pre> + <p> + The Marquis of Lorne, then Governor-General of Canada, was the husband of + Queen Victoria's daughter, the Princess Louise. The invitation was + therefore in the nature of a command. Clemens obeyed it graciously enough, + and with a feeling of exaltation no doubt. He had been honored by the + noble and the great in many lands, but this was royalty—English + royalty—paying a tribute to an American writer whom neither the + Marquis nor the Princess, his wife, had ever seen. They had invited him + because they had cared enough for his books to make them wish to see him, + to have him as a guest in Rideau Hall, their home. Mark Twain was + democratic. A king to him was no more than any other man; rather less if + he were not a good king. But there was something national in this tribute; + and, besides, Lord Lorne and the Princess Louise were the kind of + sovereigns that honored their rank, instead of being honored by it. + </p> + <p> + It is a good deal like a fairy tale when you think of it; the barefooted + boy of Hannibal, who had become a printer, a pilot, a rough-handed miner, + being summoned, not so many years later, by royalty as one of America's + foremost men of letters. The honor was no greater than many others he had + received, certainly not greater than the calls of Canon Kingsley and + Robert Browning and Turgenieff at his London hotel lodgings, but it was of + a less usual kind. + </p> + <p> + Clemens enjoyed his visit. Princess Louise and the Marquis of Lorne kept + him with them almost continually, and were loath to let him go. Once they + took him tobogganing—an exciting experience. + </p> + <p> + It happened that during his stay with them the opening of the Canadian + Parliament took place. Lord Lorne and the principal dignitaries of state + entered one carriage, and in a carriage behind them followed Princess + Louise with Mark Twain. As they approached the Parliament House the + customary salute was fired. Clemens pretended to the Princess considerable + gratification. The temptation was too strong to resist: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Your Highness,” he said, “I have had other compliments paid to me, + but none equal to this one. I have never before had a salute fired + in my honor.” + </pre> + <p> + Returning to Hartford, he sent copies of his books to Lord Lorne, and to + the Princess a special copy of that absurd manual, The New Guide of the + Conversation in Portuguese and English, for which he had written an + introduction.—[A serious work, in Portugal, though issued by Osgood + ('83) as a joke. Clemens in the introduction says: “Its delicious, + unconscious ridiculousness and its enchanting naivety are as supreme and + unapproachable in their way as Shakespeare's sublimities.” An + extract, the closing paragraph from the book's preface, will illustrate + his meaning: + </p> + <p> + “We expect then, who the little book (for the care that we wrote + him, and for her typographical correction), that maybe worth the + acceptation of the studious persons, and especially of the Youth, at which + we dedicate him particularly.”] + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0150" id="link2H_4_0150"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXLIV. A SUMMER LITERARY HARVEST + </h2> + <p> + Arriving at the farm in June, Clemens had a fresh crop of ideas for + stories of many lengths and varieties. His note-book of that time is full + of motifs and plots, most of them of that improbable and extravagant kind + which tended to defeat any literary purpose, whether humorous or + otherwise. It seems worth while setting down one or more of these here, + for they are characteristic of the myriad conceptions that came and went, + and beyond these written memoranda left no trace behind. Here is a fair + example of many: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Two men starving on a raft. The pauper has a Boston cracker, + resolves to keep it till the multimillionaire is beginning to + starve, then make him pay $50,000 for it. Millionaire agrees. + Pauper's cupidity rises, resolves to wait and get more; twenty-four + hours later asks him a million for the cracker. Millionaire agrees. + Pauper has a wild dream of becoming enormously rich off his cracker; + backs down; lies all night building castles in the air; next day + raises his price higher and higher, till millionaire has offered + $100,000,000, every cent he has in the world. Pauper accepts. + Millionaire: “Now give it to me.” + + Pauper: “No; it isn't a trade until you sign documental history of + the transaction and make an oath to pay.” + + While pauper is finishing the document millionaire sees a ship. + When pauper says, “Sign and take the cracker,” millionaire smiles a + smile, declines, and points to the ship. +</pre> + <p> + Yet this is hardly more extravagant than another idea that is mentioned + repeatedly among the notes—that of an otherwise penniless man + wandering about London with a single million-pound bank-note in his + possession, a motif which developed into a very good story indeed. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + IDEA FOR “STORMFIELD'S VISIT TO HEAVEN” + + In modern times the halls of heaven are warmed by registers + connected with hell; and this is greatly applauded by Jonathan + Edwards, Calvin, Baxter and Company, because it adds a new pang to + the sinner's sufferings to know that the very fire which tortures + him is the means of making the righteous comfortable. +</pre> + <p> + Then there was to be another story, in which the various characters were + to have a weird, pestilential nomenclature; such as “Lockjaw Harris,” + “Influenza Smith,” “Sinapism Davis,” and a dozen + or two more, a perfect outbreak of disorders. + </p> + <p> + Another—probably the inspiration of some very hot afternoon—was + to present life in the interior of an iceberg, where a colony would live + for a generation or two, drifting about in a vast circular current year + after year, subsisting on polar bears and other Arctic game. + </p> + <p> + An idea which he followed out and completed was the 1002d Arabian Night, + in which Scheherazade continues her stories, until she finally talks the + Sultan to death. That was a humorous idea, certainly; but when Howells + came home and read it in the usual way he declared that, while the opening + was killingly funny, when he got into the story itself it seemed to him + that he was “made a fellow-sufferer with the Sultan from + Scheherazade's prolixity.” + </p> + <p> + “On the whole,” he said, “it is not your best, nor your + second best; but all the way it skirts a certain kind of fun which you + can't afford to indulge in.” + </p> + <p> + And that was the truth. So the tale, neatly typewritten, retired to + seclusion, and there remains to this day. + </p> + <p> + Clemens had one inspiration that summer which was not directly literary, + but historical, due to his familiarity with English dates. He wrote + Twichell: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Day before yesterday, feeling not in condition for writing, I left + the study, but I couldn't hold in—had to do something; so I spent + eight hours in the sun with a yardstick, measuring off the reigns of + the English kings on the roads in these grounds, from William the + Conqueror to 1883, calculating to invent an open-air game which + shall fill the children's heads with dates without study. I give + each king's reign one foot of space to the year and drive one stake + in the ground to mark the beginning of each reign, and I make the + children call the stake by the king's name. You can stand in the + door and take a bird's-eye view of English monarchy, from the + Conqueror to Edward IV.; then you can turn and follow the road up + the hill to the study and beyond with an opera-glass, and bird's-eye + view the rest of it to 1883. + + You can mark the sharp difference in the length of reigns by the + varying distances of the stakes apart. You can see Richard II., two + feet; Oliver Cromwell, two feet; James II., three feet, and so on + —and then big skips; pegs standing forty-five, forty-six, fifty, + fifty-six, and sixty feet apart (Elizabeth, Victoria, Edward III., + Henry III., and George III.). By the way, third's a lucky number + for length of days, isn't it? Yes, sir; by my scheme you get a + realizing notion of the time occupied by reigns. + + The reason it took me eight hours was because, with little Jean's + interrupting assistance, I had to measure from the Conquest to the + end of Henry VI. three times over, and besides I had to whittle out + all those pegs. + + I did a full day's work and a third over, yesterday, but was full of + my game after I went to bed trying to fit it for indoors. So I + didn't get to sleep till pretty late; but when I did go off I had + contrived a new way to play my history game with cards and a board. +</pre> + <p> + We may be sure the idea of the game would possess him, once it got a fair + start like that. He decided to save the human race that year with a + history game. When he had got the children fairly going and interested in + playing it, he adapted it to a cribbage-board, and spent his days and + nights working it out and perfecting it to a degree where the world at + large might learn all the facts of all the histories, not only without + effort, but with an actual hunger for chronology. He would have a game not + only of the English kings, but of the kings of every other nation; + likewise of great statesmen, vice-chancellors, churchmen, of celebrities + in every line. He would prepare a book to accompany these games. Each game + would contain one thousand facts, while the book would contain eight + thousand; it would be a veritable encyclopedia. He would organize clubs + throughout the United States for playing the game; prizes were to be + given. Experts would take it up. He foresaw a department in every + newspaper devoted to the game and its problems, instead of to chess and + whist and other useless diversions. He wrote to Orion, and set him to work + gathering facts and dates by the bushel. He wrote to Webster, sent him a + plan, and ordered him to apply for the patent without delay. Patents must + also be applied for abroad. With all nations playing this great game, very + likely it would produce millions in royalties; and so, in the true Sellers + fashion, the iridescent bubble was blown larger and larger, until finally + it blew up. The game on paper had become so large, so elaborate, so + intricate, that no one could play it. Yet the first idea was a good one: + the king stakes driven along the driveway and up the hillside of Quarry + Farm. The children enjoyed it, and played it through many sweet summer + afternoons. Once, in the days when he had grown old, he wrote, + remembering: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Among the principal merits of the games which we played by help of + the pegs were these: that they had to be played in the open air, and + that they compelled brisk exercise. The peg of William the + Conqueror stood in front of the house; one could stand near the + Conqueror and have all English history skeletonized and landmarked + and mile-posted under his eye.... The eye has a good memory. + Many years have gone by and the pegs have disappeared, but I still + see them and each in its place; and no king's name falls upon my ear + without my seeing his pegs at once, and noticing just how many feet + of space he takes up along the road. +</pre> + <p> + It turned out an important literary year after all. In the Mississippi + book he had used a chapter from the story he had been working at from time + to time for a number of years, 'The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn'. + Reading over the manuscript now he found his interest in it sharp and + fresh, his inspiration renewed. The trip down the river had revived it. + The interest in the game became quiescent, and he set to work to finish + the story at a dead heat. + </p> + <p> + To Howells, August 22 (1883), he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have written eight or nine hundred manuscript pages in such a + brief space of time that I mustn't name the number of days; I + shouldn't believe it myself, and of course couldn't expect you to. + I used to restrict myself to four and five hours a day and five days + in the week, but this time I have wrought from breakfast till 5.15 + P.M. six days in the week, and once or twice I smouched a Sunday + when the boss wasn't looking. Nothing is half so good as literature + hooked on Sunday, on the sly. +</pre> + <p> + He refers to the game, though rather indifferently. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When I wrote you I thought I had it; whereas I was merely entering + upon the initiatory difficulties of it. I might have known it + wouldn't be an easy job or somebody would have invented a decent + historical game long ago—a thing which nobody has done. +</pre> + <p> + Notwithstanding the fact that he was working at Huck with enthusiasm, he + seems to have been in no hurry to revise it for publication, either as a + serial or as a book. But the fact that he persevered until Huck Finn at + last found complete utterance was of itself a sufficient matter for + congratulation. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0151" id="link2H_4_0151"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXLV. HOWELLS AND CLEMENS WRITE A PLAY + </h2> + <h3> + Before Howells went abroad Clemens had written: + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Now I think that the play for you to write would be one entitled, + “Colonel Mulberry Sellers in Age” (75), with Lafayette Hawkins (at + 50) still sticking to him and believing in him and calling him “My + lord.” He [Sellers] is a specialist and a scientist in various + ways. Your refined people and purity of speech would make the best + possible background, and when you are done, I could take your + manuscript and rewrite the Colonel's speeches, and make him properly + extravagant, and I would let the play go to Raymond, and bind him up + with a contract that would give him the bellyache every time he read + it. Shall we think this over, or drop it as being nonsense? +</pre> + <p> + Howells, returned and settled in Boston once more, had revived an interest + in the play idea. He corresponded with Clemens concerning it and agreed + that the American Claimant, Leathers, should furnish the initial impulse + of the drama. + </p> + <p> + They decided to revive Colonel Sellers and make him the heir; Colonel + Sellers in old age, more wildly extravagant than ever, with new schemes, + new patents, new methods of ameliorating the ills of mankind. + </p> + <p> + Howells came down to Hartford from Boston full of enthusiasm. He found + Clemens with some ideas of the plan jotted down: certain effects and + situations which seemed to him amusing, but there was no general scheme of + action. Howells, telling of it, says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I felt authorized to make him observe that his scheme was as nearly + nothing as chaos could be. He agreed hilariously with me, and was + willing to let it stand in proof of his entire dramatic inability. +</pre> + <p> + Howells, in turn, proposed a plan which Clemens approved, and they set to + work. Howells could imitate Clemens's literary manner, and they had a + riotously jubilant fortnight working out their humors. Howells has told + about it in his book, and he once related it to the writer of this memoir. + He said: + </p> + <p> + “Clemens took one scene and I another. We had loads and loads of fun + about it. We cracked our sides laughing over it as it went along. We + thought it mighty good, and I think to this day that it was mighty good. + We called the play 'Colonel Sellers.' We revived him. Clemens had a notion + of Sellers as a spiritual medium-there was a good deal of excitement about + spiritualism then; he also had a notion of Sellers leading a women's + temperance crusade. We conceived the idea of Sellers wanting to try, in + the presence of the audience, how a man felt who had fallen, through + drink. Sellers was to end with a sort of corkscrew performance on the + stage. He always wore a marvelous fire extinguisher, one of his + inventions, strapped on his back, so in any sudden emergency, he could + give proof of its effectiveness.” + </p> + <p> + In connection with the extinguisher, Howells provided Sellers with a pair + of wings, which Sellers declared would enable him to float around in any + altitude where the flames might break out. The extinguisher, was not to be + charged with water or any sort of liquid, but with Greek fire, on the + principle that like cures like; in other words, the building was to be + inoculated with Greek fire against the ordinary conflagration. Of course + the whole thing was as absurd as possible, and, reading the old manuscript + to-day, one is impressed with the roaring humor of some of the scenes, and + with the wild extravagance of the farce motive, not wholly warranted by + the previous character of Sellers, unless, indeed, he had gone stark mad. + It is, in fact, Sellers caricatured. The gentle, tender side of Sellers—the + best side—the side which Clemens and Howells themselves cared for + most, is not there. Chapter III of Mark Twain's novel, The American + Claimant, contains a scene between Colonel Sellers and Washington Hawkins + which presents the extravagance of the Colonel's materialization scheme. + It is a modified version of one of the scenes in the play, and is as + amusing and unoffending as any. + </p> + <p> + The authors' rollicking joy in their work convinced them that they had + produced a masterpiece for which the public in general, and the actors in + particular, were waiting. Howells went back to Boston tired out, but elate + in the prospect of imminent fortune. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0152" id="link2H_4_0152"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXLVI. DISTINGUISHED VISITORS + </h2> + <p> + Meantime, while Howells had been in Hartford working at the play with + Clemens, Matthew Arnold had arrived in Boston. On inquiring for Howells, + at his home, the visitor was told that he had gone to see Mark Twain. + Arnold was perhaps the only literary Englishman left who had not accepted + Mark Twain at his larger value. He seemed surprised and said: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but he doesn't like that sort of thing, does he?” + </p> + <p> + To which Mrs. Howells replied: + </p> + <p> + “He likes Mr. Clemens very much, and he thinks him one of the + greatest men he ever knew.” + </p> + <p> + Arnold proceeded to Hartford to lecture, and one night Howells and Clemens + went to meet him at a reception. Says Howells: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + While his hand laxly held mine in greeting I saw his eyes fixed + intensely on the other side of the room. “Who—who in the world is + that?” I looked and said, “Oh, that is Mark Twain.” I do not + remember just how their instant encounter was contrived by Arnold's + wish; but I have the impression that they were not parted for long + during the evening, and the next night Arnold, as if still under the + glamour of that potent presence, was at Clemens's house. +</pre> + <p> + He came there to dine with the Twichells and the Rev. Dr. Edwin P. Parker. + Dr. Parker and Arnold left together, and, walking quietly homeward, + discussed the remarkable creature whose presence they had just left. + Clemens had been at his best that night—at his humorous best. He had + kept a perpetual gale of laughter going, with a string of comment and + anecdote of a kind which Twichell once declared the world had never before + seen and would never see again. Arnold seemed dazed by it, unable to come + out from under its influence. He repeated some of the things Mark Twain + had said; thoughtfully, as if trying to analyze their magic. Then he asked + solemnly: + </p> + <p> + “And is he never serious?” + </p> + <p> + And Dr. Parker as solemnly answered: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Arnold, he is the most serious man in the world.” Dr. + Parker, recalling this incident, remembered also that Protap Chunder + Mazoomdar, a Hindoo Christian prelate of high rank, visited Hartford in + 1883, and that his one desire was to meet Mark Twain. In some memoranda of + this visit Dr. Parker has written: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I said that Mark Twain was a friend of mine, and we would + immediately go to his house. He was all eagerness, and I perceived + that I had risen greatly in this most refined and cultivated + gentleman's estimation. Arriving at Mr. Clemens's residence, I + promptly sought a brief private interview with my friend for his + enlightenment concerning the distinguished visitor, after which they + were introduced and spent a long while together. In due time + Mazoomdar came forth with Mark's likeness and autograph, and as we + walked away his whole air and manner seemed to say, with Simeon of + old, “Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace!” + </pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0153" id="link2H_4_0153"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXLVII. THE FORTUNES OF A PLAY + </h2> + <p> + Howells is of the impression that the “Claimant” play had been + offered to other actors before Raymond was made aware of it; but there are + letters (to Webster) which indicate that Raymond was to see the play + first, though Clemens declares, in a letter of instruction, that he hopes + Raymond will not take it. Then he says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Why do I offer him the play at all? For these reasons: he plays + that character well; there are not thirty actors in the country who + can do it better; and, too, he has a sort of sentimental right to be + offered the piece, though no moral, or legal, or other kind of + right. + + Therefore we do offer it to him; but only once, not twice. Let us + have no hemming and hawing; make short, sharp work of the business. + I decline to have any correspondence with R. myself in any way. +</pre> + <p> + This was at the end of November, 1883, while the play was still being + revised. Negotiations with Raymond had already begun, though he does not + appear to have actually seen the play during that theatrical season, and + many and various were the attempts made to place it elsewhere; always with + one result—that each actor or manager, in the end, declared it to be + strictly a Raymond play. The thing was hanging fire for nearly a year, + altogether, while they were waiting on Raymond, who had a profitable play, + and was in no hurry for the recrudescence of Sellers. Howells tells how he + eventually took the manuscript to Raymond, whom he found “in a mood + of sweet reasonableness” at one of Osgood's luncheons. Raymond said + he could not do the play then, but was sure he would like it for the + coming season, and in any case would be glad to read it. + </p> + <p> + In due time Raymond reported favorably on the play, at least so far as the + first act was concerned, but he objected to the materialization feature + and to Sellers as claimant for the English earldom. He asked that these + features be eliminated, or at least much ameliorated; but as these + constituted the backbone and purpose of the whole play, Clemens and + Howells decided that what was left would be hardly worth while. Raymond + finally agreed to try the play as it was in one of the larger towns—Howells + thinks in Buffalo. A week later the manuscript came back to Webster, who + had general charge of the business negotiations, as indeed he had of all + Mark Twain's affairs at this time, and with it a brief line: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR SIR,—I have just finished rereading the play, and am convinced + that in its present form it would not prove successful. I return + the manuscript by express to your address. + + Thanking you for your courtesy, I am, + + Yours truly, JOHN T. RAYMOND. + + P.S.—If the play is altered and made longer I will be pleased to + read it again. +</pre> + <p> + In his former letter Raymond had declared that “Sellers, while a + very sanguine man, was not a lunatic, and no one but a lunatic could for a + moment imagine that he had done such a work” (meaning the + materialization). Clearly Raymond wanted a more serious presentation, + something akin to his earlier success, and on the whole we can hardly + blame him. But the authors had faith in their performance as it stood, and + agreed they would make no change. + </p> + <p> + Finally a well-known elocutionist, named Burbank, conceived the notion of + impersonating Raymond as well as Sellers, making of it a sort of double + burlesque, and agreed to take the play on those terms. Burbank came to + Hartford and showed what he could do. Howells and Clemens agreed to give + him the play, and they hired the old Lyceum Theater for a week, at seven + hundred dollars, for its trial presentation. Daniel Frohman promoted it. + Clemens and Howells went over the play and made some changes, but they + were not as hilarious over it or as full of enthusiasm as they had been in + the beginning. Howells put in a night of suffering—long, dark hours + of hot and cold waves of fear—and rising next morning from a tossing + bed, wrote: “Here's a play which every manager has put out-of-doors + and which every actor known to us has refused, and now we go and give it + to an elocutioner. We are fools.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens hurried over to Boston to consult with Howells, and in the end + they agreed to pay the seven hundred dollars for the theater, take the + play off and give Burbank his freedom. But Clemens's faith in it did not + immediately die. Howells relinquished all right and title in it, and + Clemens started it out with Burbank and a traveling company, doing + one-night stands, and kept it going for a week or more at his own expense. + It never reached New York. + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” says Howells, “I think now that if it had + come it would have been successful. So hard does the faith of the + unsuccessful dramatist die.”—[This was as late as the spring + of 1886, at which time Howells's faith in the play was exceedingly shaky. + In one letter he wrote: “It is a lunatic that we have created, and + while a lunatic in one act might amuse, I'm afraid that in three he would + simply bore.” + </p> + <p> + And again: + </p> + <p> + “As it stands, I believe the thing will fail, and it would be a + disgrace to have it succeed.”] + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0154" id="link2H_4_0154"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXLVIII. CABLE AND HIS GREAT JOKE + </h2> + <p> + Meanwhile, with the completion of the Sellers play Clemens had flung + himself into dramatic writing once more with a new and more violent + impetuosity than ever. Howells had hardly returned to Boston when he + wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Now let's write a tragedy. + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The inclosed is not fancy, it is history; except that the little girl was + a passing stranger, and not kin to any of the parties. I read the incident + in Carlyle's Cromwell a year ago, and made a note in my note-book; + stumbled on the note to-day, and wrote up the closing scene of a possible + tragedy, to see how it might work. + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + If we made this colonel a grand fellow, and gave him a wife to suit—hey? + It's right in the big historical times—war; Cromwell in big, + picturesque power, and all that." + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Come, let's do this tragedy, and do it well. Curious, but didn't Florence + want a Cromwell? But Cromwell would not be the chief figure here. + </pre> + <p> + It was the closing scene of that pathetic passage in history from which he + would later make his story, “The Death Disc.” Howells was too + tired and too occupied to undertake immediately a new dramatic labor, so + Clemens went steaming ahead alone. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + My billiard-table is stacked up with books relating to the Sandwich + Islands; the walls are upholstered with scraps of paper penciled + with notes drawn from them. I have saturated myself with knowledge + of that unimaginably beautiful land and that most strange and + fascinating people. And I have begun a story. Its hidden motive + will illustrate a but-little considered fact in human nature: that + the religious folly you are born in you will die in, no matter what + apparently reasonabler religious folly may seem to have taken its + place; meanwhile abolished and obliterated it. I start Bill + Ragsdale at eleven years of age, and the heroine at four, in the + midst of the ancient idolatrous system, with its picturesque and + amazing customs and superstitions, three months before the arrival + of the missionaries and—the erection of a shallow Christianity upon + the ruins of the old paganism. + + Then these two will become educated Christians and highly civilized. + + And then I will jump fifteen years and do Ragsdale's leper business. + When we come to dramatize, we can draw a deal of matter from the + story, all ready to our hand. +</pre> + <p> + He made elaborate preparations for the Sandwich Islands story, which he + and Howells would dramatize later, and within the space of a few weeks he + actually did dramatize 'The Prince and the Pauper' and 'Tom Sawyer', and + was prodding Webster to find proper actors or managers; stipulating at + first severe and arbitrary terms, which were gradually modified, as one + after another of the prospective customers found these dramatic wares + unsuited to their needs. Mark Twain was one of the most dramatic creatures + that ever lived, but he lacked the faculty of stage arrangement of the + dramatic idea. It is one of the commonest defects in the literary make-up; + also one of the hardest to realize and to explain. + </p> + <p> + The winter of 1883-84 was a gay one in the Clemens home. Henry Irving was + among those entertained, Augustus Saint-Gaudens, Aldrich and his wife, + Howells of course, and George W. Cable. Cable had now permanently left the + South for the promised land which all authors of the South and West seek + eventually, and had in due course made his way to Hartford. Clemens took + Cable's fortunes in hand, as he had done with many another, invited him to + his home, and undertook to open negotiations with the American Publishing + Company, of which Frank Bliss was now the manager, for the improvement of + his fortunes. + </p> + <p> + Cable had been giving readings from his stories and had somewhere picked + up the measles. He suddenly came down with the complaint during his visit + to Clemens, and his case was a violent one. It required the constant + attendance of a trained nurse and one or two members of the household to + pull him through. + </p> + <p> + In the course of time he was convalescent, and when contagion was no + longer to be feared guests were invited in for his entertainment. At one + of these gatherings, Cable produced a curious book, which he said had been + lent to him by Prof. Francis Bacon, of New Haven, as a great rarity. It + was a little privately printed pamphlet written by a Southern youth, named + S. Watson Wolston, a Yale student of 1845, and was an absurd romance of + the hyperflorid, grandiloquent sort, entitled, “Love Triumphant, or + the Enemy Conquered.” Its heroine's name was Ambulinia, and its + flowery, half-meaningless periods and impossible situations delighted + Clemens beyond measure. He begged Cable to lend it to him, to read at the + Saturday Morning Club, declaring that he certainly must own the book, at + whatever cost. Henry C. Robinson, who was present, remembered having seen + a copy in his youth, and Twichell thought he recalled such a book on sale + in New Haven during his college days. Twichell said nothing as to any + purpose in the matter; but somewhat later, being in New Haven, he stepped + into the old book-store and found the same proprietor, who remembered very + well the book and its author. Twichell rather fearfully asked if by any + chance a copy of it might still be obtained. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” was the answer, “I undertook to put my cellar in + order the other day, and found about a cord of them down there. I think I + can supply you.” + </p> + <p> + Twichell took home six of the books at ten cents each, and on their first + spring walk to Talcott's Tower casually mentioned to Clemens the quest for + the rare Ambulinia. But Clemens had given up the pursuit. New York dealers + had reported no success in the matter. The book was no longer in + existence. + </p> + <p> + “What would you give for a copy?” asked Twichell. + </p> + <p> + Clemens became excited. + </p> + <p> + “It isn't a question of price,” he said; “that would be + for the owner to set if I could find him.” + </p> + <p> + Twichell drew a little package from his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mark,” he said, “here are six copies of that + book, to begin with. If that isn't enough, I can get you a wagon-load.” + </p> + <p> + It was enough. But it did not deter Clemens in his purpose, which was to + immortalize the little book by pointing out its peculiar charms. He did + this later, and eventually included the entire story, with comments, in + one of his own volumes. + </p> + <p> + Clemens and Twichell did not always walk that spring. The early form of + bicycle, the prehistoric high-wheel, had come into vogue, and they each + got one and attempted its conquest. They practised in the early morning + hours on Farmington Avenue, which was wide and smooth, and they had an + instructor, a young German, who, after a morning or two, regarded Mark + Twain helplessly and said: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Clemens, it's remarkable—you can fall off of a bicycle + more different ways than the man that invented it.” + </p> + <p> + They were curious things, those old high-wheel machines. You were perched + away up in the air, with the feeling that you were likely at any moment to + strike a pebble or something that would fling you forward with damaging + results. Frequently that is what happened. The word “header” + seems to have grown out of that early bicycling period. Perhaps Mark Twain + invented it. He had enough experience to do it. He always declared + afterward that he invented all the new bicycle profanity that has since + come into general use. Once he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There was a row of low stepping-stones across one end of the street, + a measured yard apart. Even after I got so I could steer pretty + fairly I was so afraid of those stones that I always hit them. They + gave me the worst falls I ever got in that street, except those + which I got from dogs. I have seen it stated that no expert is + quick enough to run over a dog; that a dog is always able to skip + out of his way. I think that that may be true; but I think that the + reason he couldn't run over the dog was because he was trying to. I + did not try to run over any dog. But I ran over every dog that came + along. I think it makes a great deal of difference. If you try to + run over the dog he knows how to calculate, but if you are trying to + miss him he does not know how to calculate, and is liable to jump + the wrong way every time. It was always so in my experience. Even + when I could not hit a wagon I could hit a dog that came to see me + practise. They all liked to see me practise, and they all came, for + there was very little going on in our neighborhood to entertain a + dog. +</pre> + <p> + He conquered, measurably, that old, discouraging thing, and he and + Twichell would go on excursions, sometimes as far as Wethersfield or to + the tower. It was a pleasant change, at least it was an interesting one; + but bicycling on the high wheel was never a popular diversion with Mark + Twain, and his enthusiasm in the sport had died before the “safety” + came along. + </p> + <p> + He had his machine sent out to Elmira, but there were too many hills in + Chemung County, and after one brief excursion he came in, limping and + pushing his wheel, and did not try it again. + </p> + <p> + To return to Cable. When the 1st of April (1884) approached he concluded + it would be a good time to pay off his debt of gratitude for his recent + entertainment in the Clemens's home. He went to work at it systematically. + He had a “private and confidential” circular letter printed, + and he mailed it to one hundred and fifty of Mark Twain's literary friends + in Boston, Hartford, Springfield, New York, Brooklyn, Washington, and + elsewhere, suggesting that they write to him, so that their letters would + reach him simultaneously April 1st, asking for his autograph. No stamps or + cards were to be inclosed for reply, and it was requested that “no + stranger to Mr. Clemens and no minor” should take part. Mrs. Clemens + was let into the secret, so that she would see to it that her husband did + not reject his mail or commit it to the flames unopened. + </p> + <p> + It would seem that every one receiving the invitation must have responded + to it, for on the morning of April 1st a stupefying mass of letters was + unloaded on Mark Twain's table. He did not know what to make of it, and + Mrs. Clemens stood off to watch the results. The first one he opened was + from Dean Sage, a friend whom he valued highly. Sage wrote from Brooklyn: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR CLEMENS,—I have recently been asked by a young lady who + unfortunately has a mania for autograph-collecting, but otherwise is + a charming character, and comely enough to suit your fastidious + taste, to secure for her the sign manual of the few distinguished + persons fortunate enough to have my acquaintance. In enumerating + them to her, after mentioning the names of Geo. Shepard Page, Joe + Michell, Capt. Isaiah Ryndus, Mr. Willard, Dan Mace, and J. L. + Sullivan, I came to yours. “Oh!” said she, “I have read all his + works—Little Breeches, The Heathen Chinee, and the rest—and think + them delightful. Do oblige me by asking him for his autograph, + preceded by any little sentiment that may occur to him, provided it + is not too short.” + + Of course I promised, and hope you will oblige me by sending some + little thing addressed to Miss Oakes. + + We are all pretty well at home just now, though indisposition has + been among us for the past fortnight. With regards to Mrs. Clemens + and the children, in which my wife joins, + + Yours truly, DEAN SAGE. +</pre> + <p> + It amused and rather surprised him, and it fooled him completely; but when + he picked up a letter from Brander Matthews, asking, in some absurd + fashion, for his signature, and another from Ellen Terry, and from Irving, + and from Stedman, and from Warner, and Waring, and H. C. Bunner, and + Sarony, and Laurence Hutton, and John Hay, and R. U. Johnson, and + Modjeska, the size and quality of the joke began to overawe him. He was + delighted, of course; for really it was a fine compliment, in its way, and + most of the letters were distinctly amusing. Some of them asked for + autographs by the yard, some by the pound. Henry Irving said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have just got back from a very late rehearsal-five o'clock—very + tired—but there will be no rest till I get your autograph. +</pre> + <p> + Some requested him to sit down and copy a few chapters from The Innocents + Abroad for them or to send an original manuscript. Others requested that + his autograph be attached to a check of interesting size. John Hay + suggested that he copy a hymn, a few hundred lines of Young's “Night + Thoughts,” and an equal amount of Pollak's “Course of Time.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I want my boy to form a taste for serious and elevated poetry, and + it will add considerable commercial value to have them in your + handwriting. +</pre> + <p> + Altogether the reading of the letters gave him a delightful day, and his + admiration for Cable grew accordingly. Cable, too, was pleased with the + success of his joke, though he declared he would never risk such a thing + again. A newspaper of the time reports him as saying: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I never suffered so much agony as for a few days previous to the 1st + of April. I was afraid the letters would reach Mark when he was in + affliction, in which case all of us would never have ceased flying + to make it up to him. + When I visited Mark we used to open our budgets of letters together + at breakfast. We used to sing out whenever we struck an autograph- + hunter. I think the idea came from that. The first person I spoke + to about it was Robert Underwood Johnson, of the Century. My most + enthusiastic ally was the Rev. Henry Ward Beecher. We never thought + it would get into the papers. I never played a practical joke + before. I never will again, certainly. +</pre> + <p> + Mark Twain in those days did not encourage the regular + autograph-collectors, and seldom paid any attention to their requests for + his signature. He changed all this in later years, and kept a supply + always on hand to satisfy every request; but in those earlier days he had + no patience with collecting fads, and it required a particularly pleasing + application to obtain his signature. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0155" id="link2H_4_0155"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXLIX. MARK TWAIN IN BUSINESS + </h2> + <p> + Samuel Clemens by this time was definitely engaged in the publishing + business. Webster had a complete office with assistants at 658 Broadway, + and had acquired a pretty thorough and practical knowledge of subscription + publishing. He was a busy, industrious young man, tirelessly energetic, + and with a good deal of confidence, by no means unnecessary to commercial + success. He placed this mental and physical capital against Mark Twain's + inspiration and financial backing, and the combination of Charles L. + Webster & Co. seemed likely to be a strong one. + </p> + <p> + Already, in the spring of 1884, Webster had the new Mark Twain book, 'The + Adventures of Huckleberry Finn', well in hand, and was on the watch for + promising subscription books by other authors. Clemens, with his usual + business vision and eye for results, with a generous disregard of detail, + was supervising the larger preliminaries, and fulminating at the petty + distractions and difficulties as they came along. Certain plays he was + trying to place were enough to keep him pretty thoroughly upset during + this period, and proof-reading never added to his happiness. To Howells he + wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + My days are given up to cursings, both loud and deep, for I am + reading the 'Huck Finn' proofs. They don't make a very great many + mistakes, but those that do occur are of a nature that make a man + swear his teeth loose. +</pre> + <p> + Whereupon Howells promptly wrote him that he would help him out with the + Huck Finn proofs for the pleasure of reading the story. Clemens, among + other things, was trying to place a patent grape-scissors, invented by + Howells's father, so that there was, in some degree, an equivalent for the + heavy obligation. That it was a heavy one we gather from his fervent + acknowledgment: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It took my breath away, and I haven't recovered it yet, entirely—I + mean the generosity of your proposal to read the proofs of Huck + Finn. + + Now, if you mean it, old man—if you are in earnest-proceed, in + God's name, and be by me forever blessed. I can't conceive of a + rational man deliberately piling such an atrocious job upon himself. + But if there be such a man, and you be that man, pile it on. The + proof-reading of 'The Prince and the Pauper' cost me the last rags + of my religion. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens decided to have the Huckleberry Finn book illustrated after his + own ideas. He looked through the various comic papers to see if he could + find the work of some new man that appealed to his fancy. In the pages of + Life he discovered some comic pictures illustrating the possibility of + applying electrical burners to messenger boys, waiters, etc. The style and + the spirit of these things amused him. He instructed Webster to look up + the artist, who proved to be a young man, E. W. Kemble by name, later one + of our foremost cartoonists. Webster engaged Kemble and put the manuscript + in his hands. Through the publication of certain chapters of Huck Finn in + the Century Magazine, Kemble was brought to the notice of its editors, who + wrote Clemens that they were profoundly indebted to him for unearthing + “such a gem of an illustrator.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens, encouraged and full of enthusiasm, now endeavored to interest + himself in the practical details of manufacture, but his stock of patience + was light and the details were many. His early business period resembles, + in some of its features, his mining experience in Esmeralda, his letters + to Webster being not unlike those to Orion in that former day. They are + much oftener gentle, considerate, even apologetic, but they are + occasionally terse, arbitrary, and profane. It required effort for him to + be entirely calm in his business correspondence. A criticism of one of + Webster's assistants will serve as an example of his less quiet method: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Charley, your proof-reader, is an idiot; and not only an idiot, but + blind; and not only blind, but partly dead. +</pre> + <p> + Of course, one must regard many of Mark Twain's business aspects + humorously. To consider them otherwise is to place him in a false light + altogether. He wore himself out with his anxieties and irritations; but + that even he, in the midst of his furies, saw the humor of it all is + sufficiently evidenced by the form of his savage phrasing. There were few + things that did not amuse him, and certainly nothing amused more, or + oftener, than himself. + </p> + <p> + It is proper to add a detail in evidence of a business soundness which he + sometimes manifested. He had observed the methods of Bliss and Osgood, and + had drawn his conclusions. In the beginning of the Huck Finn canvass he + wrote Webster: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Keep it diligently in mind that we don't issue till we have made a + big sale. + + Get at your canvassing early and drive it with all your might, with + an intent and purpose of issuing on the 10th or 15th of next + December (the best time in the year to tumble a big pile into the + trade); but if we haven't 40,000 subscriptions we simply postpone + publication till we've got them. It is a plain, simple policy, and + would have saved both of my last books if it had been followed. + [That is to say, 'The Prince and the Pauper' and the Mississippi + book, neither of which had sold up to his expectations on the + initial canvass.] +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0156" id="link2H_4_0156"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CL. FARM PICTURES + </h2> + <p> + Gerhardt returned from Paris that summer, after three years of study, a + qualified sculptor. He was prepared to take commissions, and came to + Elmira to model a bust of his benefactor. The work was finished after four + or five weeks of hard effort and pronounced admirable; but Gerhardt, + attempting to make a cast one morning, ruined it completely. The family + gathered round the disaster, which to them seemed final, but the sculptor + went immediately to work, and in an amazingly brief time executed a new + bust even better than the first, an excellent piece of modeling and a fine + likeness. It was decided that a cut of it should be used as a frontispiece + for the new book, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. + </p> + <p> + Clemens was at this time giving the final readings to the Huck Finn pages, + a labor in which Mrs. Clemens and the children materially assisted. In the + childish biography which Susy began of her father, a year later, she says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ever since papa and mama were married papa has written his books and + then taken them to mama in manuscript, and she has expurgated + —[Susy's spelling is preserved]—them. Papa read Huckleberry Finn to + us in manuscript,—[Probably meaning proof.]—just before it came + out, and then he would leave parts of it with mama to expurgate, + while he went off to the study to work, and sometimes Clara and I + would be sitting with mama while she was looking the manuscript + over, and I remember so well, with what pangs of regret we used to + see her turn down the leaves of the pages, which meant that some + delightfully terrible part must be scratched out. And I remember + one part pertickularly which was perfectly fascinating it was so + terrible, that Clara and I used to delight in and oh, with what + despair we saw mama turn down the leaf on which it was written, we + thought the book would almost be ruined without it. But we + gradually came to think as mama did. +</pre> + <p> + Commenting on this phase of Huck's evolution Mark Twain has since written: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I remember the special case mentioned by Susy, and can see the group + yet—two-thirds of it pleading for the life of the culprit sentence + that was so fascinatingly dreadful, and the other third of it + patiently explaining why the court could not grant the prayer of the + pleaders; but I do not remember what the condemned phrase was. It + had much company, and they all went to the gallows; but it is + possible that that especially dreadful one which gave those little + people so much delight was cunningly devised and put into the book + for just that function, and not with any hope or expectation that it + would get by the “expergator” alive. It is possible, for I had that + custom. +</pre> + <p> + Little Jean was probably too youthful yet to take part in that literary + arbitration. She was four, and had more interest in cows. In some + memoranda which her father kept of that period—the “Children's + Book”—he says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + She goes out to the barn with one of us every evening toward six + o'clock, to look at the cows—which she adores—no weaker word can + express her feeling for them. She sits rapt and contented while + David milks the three, making a remark now and then—always about + the cows. The time passes slowly and drearily for her attendant, + but not for her. She could stand a week of it. When the milking is + finished, and “Blanche,” “Jean,” and “the cross cow” are turned into + the adjoining little cow-lot, we have to set Jean on a shed in that + lot, and stay by her half an hour, till Eliza, the German nurse, + comes to take her to bed. The cows merely stand there, and do + nothing; yet the mere sight of them is all-sufficient for Jean. She + requires nothing more. The other evening, after contemplating them + a long time, as they stood in the muddy muck chewing the cud, she + said, with deep and reverent appreciation, “Ain't this a sweet + little garden?” + + Yesterday evening our cows (after being inspected and worshiped by + Jean from the shed for an hour) wandered off down into the pasture + and left her bereft. I thought I was going to get back home, now, + but that was an error. Jean knew of some more cows in a field + somewhere, and took my hand and led me thitherward. When we turned + the corner and took the right-hand road, I saw that we should + presently be out of range of call and sight; so I began to argue + against continuing the expedition, and Jean began to argue in favor + of it, she using English for light skirmishing and German for + “business.” I kept up my end with vigor, and demolished her + arguments in detail, one after the other, till I judged I had her + about cornered. She hesitated a moment, then answered up, sharply: + + “Wir werden nichts mehr daruber sprechen!” (We won't talk any more + about it.) + + It nearly took my breath away, though I thought I might possibly + have misunderstood. I said: + + “Why, you little rascal! Was hast du gesagt?” + + But she said the same words over again, and in the same decided way. + I suppose I ought to have been outraged, but I wasn't; I was + charmed. +</pre> + <p> + His own note-books of that summer are as full as usual, but there are + fewer literary ideas and more philosophies. There was an excitement, just + then, about the trichina germ in pork, and one of his memoranda says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I think we are only the microscopic trichina concealed in the blood + of some vast creature's veins, and that it is that vast creature + whom God concerns himself about and not us. +</pre> + <p> + And there is another which says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + People, in trying to justify eternity, say we can put it in by + learning all the knowledge acquired by the inhabitants of the + myriads of stars. We sha'n't need that. We could use up two + eternities in learning all that is to be learned about our own + world, and the thousands of nations that have risen, and flourished, + and vanished from it. Mathematics alone would occupy me eight + million years. +</pre> + <p> + He records an incident which he related more fully in a letter to Howells: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Before I forget it I must tell you that Mrs. Clemens has said a + bright thing. A drop-letter came to me asking me to lecture here + for a church debt. I began to rage over the exceedingly cool + wording of the request, when Mrs. Clemens said: “I think I know that + church, and, if so, this preacher is a colored man; he doesn't know + how to write a polished letter. How should he?” + + My manner changed so suddenly and so radically that Mrs. C. said: “I + will give you a motto, and it will be useful to you if you will + adopt it: 'Consider every man colored till he is proved white.'” + </pre> + <p> + “It is dern good, I think.” + </p> + <p> + One of the note-books contains these entries: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Talking last night about home matters, I said, “I wish I had said to + George when we were leaving home, 'Now, George, I wish you would + take advantage of these three or four months' idle time while I am + away——'” + + “To learn to let my matches alone,” interrupted Livy. The very + words I was going to use. Yet George had not been mentioned before, + nor his peculiarities. +</pre> + <p> + Several years ago I said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Suppose I should live to be ninety-two, and just as I was dying a + messenger should enter and say——” + + “You are become Earl of Durham,” interrupted Livy. The very words I + was going to utter. Yet there had not been a word said about the + earl, or any other person, nor had there been any conversation + calculated to suggest any such subject. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0157" id="link2H_4_0157"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLI. MARK TWAIN MUGWUMPS + </h2> + <p> + The Republican Presidential nomination of James G. Blaine resulted in a + political revolt such as the nation had not known. Blaine was immensely + popular, but he had many enemies in his own party. There were strong + suspicions of his being connected with doubtful financiering-enterprises, + more or less sensitive to official influence, and while these scandals had + become quieted a very large portion of the Republican constituency refused + to believe them unjustified. What might be termed the intellectual element + of Republicanism was against Blaine: George William Curtis, Charles Dudley + Warner, James Russell Lowell, Henry Ward Beecher, Thomas Nast, the firm of + Harper & Brothers, Joseph W. Hawley, Joseph Twichell, Mark Twain—in + fact the majority of thinking men who held principle above party in their + choice. + </p> + <p> + On the day of the Chicago nomination, Henry C. Robinson, Charles E. + Perkins, Edward M. Bunce, F. G. Whitmore, and Samuel C. Dunham were + collected with Mark Twain in his billiard-room, taking turns at the game + and discussing the political situation, with George, the colored butler, + at the telephone down-stairs to report the returns as they came in. As + fast as the ballot was received at the political headquarters down-town, + it was telephoned up to the house and George reported it through the + speaking-tube. + </p> + <p> + The opposition to Blaine in the convention was so strong that no one of + the assembled players seriously expected his nomination. What was their + amazement, then, when about mid-afternoon George suddenly announced + through the speaking-tube that Blaine was the nominee. The butts of the + billiard cues came down on the floor with a bump, and for a moment the + players were speechless. Then Henry Robinson said: + </p> + <p> + “It's hard luck to have to vote for that man.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens looked at him under his heavy brows. + </p> + <p> + “But—we don't—have to vote for him,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to say that you're not going to vote for him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that is what I mean to say. I am not going to vote for him.” + </p> + <p> + There was a general protest. Most of those assembled declared that when a + party's representatives chose a man one must stand by him. They might + choose unwisely, but the party support must be maintained. Clemens said: + </p> + <p> + “No party holds the privilege of dictating to me how I shall vote. + If loyalty to party is a form of patriotism, I am no patriot. If there is + any valuable difference between a monarchist and an American, it lies in + the theory that the American can decide for himself what is patriotic and + what isn't. I claim that difference. I am the only person in the sixty + millions that is privileged to dictate my patriotism.” + </p> + <p> + There was a good deal of talk back and forth, and, in the end, most of + those there present remained loyal to Blaine. General Hawley and his paper + stood by Blaine. Warner withdrew from his editorship of the Courant and + remained neutral. Twichell stood with Clemens and came near losing his + pulpit by it. Open letters were published in the newspapers about him. It + was a campaign when politics divided neighbors, families, and + congregations. If we except the Civil War period, there never had been a + more rancorous political warfare than that waged between the parties of + James G. Blaine and Grover Cleveland in 1884. + </p> + <p> + That Howells remained true to Blaine was a grief to Clemens. He had gone + to the farm with Howells on his political conscience and had written + fervent and imploring letters on the subject. As late as September 17th, + he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Somehow I can't seem to rest quiet under the idea of your voting for + Blaine. I believe you said something about the country and the + party. Certainly allegiance to these is well, but certainly a man's + first duty is to his own conscience and honor; the party and country + come second to that, and never first. I don't ask you to vote at + all. I only urge you not to soil yourself by voting for Blaine.... + Don't be offended; I mean no offense. I am not concerned about the + rest of the nation, but well, good-by. + Yours ever, MARK. +</pre> + <p> + Beyond his prayerful letters to Howells, Clemens did not greatly concern + himself with politics on the farm, but, returning to Hartford, he went + vigorously into the campaign, presided, as usual, at mass-meetings, and + made political speeches which invited the laughter of both parties, and + were universally quoted and printed without regard to the paper's + convictions. + </p> + <p> + It was during one such speech as this that, in the course of his remarks, + a band outside came marching by playing patriotic music so loudly as to + drown his voice. He waited till the band got by, but by the time he was + well under way again another band passed, and once more he was obliged to + wait till the music died away in the distance. Then he said, quite + serenely: + </p> + <p> + “You will find my speech, without the music, in the morning paper.” + </p> + <p> + In introducing Carl Schurz at a great mugwump mass-meeting at Hartford, + October 20, 1884, he remarked that he [Clemens] was the only legitimately + elected officer, and was expected to read a long list of vice-presidents; + but he had forgotten all about it, and he would ask all the gentlemen + there, of whatever political complexion, to do him a great favor by acting + as vice-presidents. Then he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + As far as my own political change of heart is concerned, I have not + been convinced by any Democratic means. The opinion I hold of Mr. + Blaine is due to the comments of the Republican press before the + nomination. Not that they have said bitter or scandalous things, + because Republican papers are above that, but the things they said + did not seem to be complimentary, and seemed to me to imply + editorial disapproval of Mr. Blaine and the belief that he was not + qualified to be President of the United States. + + It is just a little indelicate for me to be here on this occasion + before an assemblage of voters, for the reason that the ablest + newspaper in Colorado—the ablest newspaper in the world—has + recently nominated me for President. It is hardly fit for me to + preside at a discussion of the brother candidate, but the best among + us will do the most repulsive things the moment we are smitten with + a Presidential madness. If I had realized that this canvass was to + turn on the candidate's private character I would have started that + Colorado paper sooner. I know the crimes that can be imputed and + proved against me can be told on the fingers of your hands. This + cannot be said of any other Presidential candidate in the field. +</pre> + <p> + Inasmuch as the Blaine-Cleveland campaign was essentially a campaign of + scurrility, this touch was loudly applauded. + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain voted for Grover Cleveland, though up to the very eve of + election he was ready to support a Republican nominee in whom he had + faith, preferably Edmunds, and he tried to inaugurate a movement by which + Edmunds might be nominated as a surprise candidate and sweep the country. + </p> + <p> + It was probably Dr. Burchard's ill-advised utterance concerning the three + alleged R's of Democracy, “Rum, Romanism, and Rebellion,” that + defeated Blaine, and by some strange, occult means Mark Twain's butler + George got wind of this damning speech before it became news on the + streets of Hartford. George had gone with his party, and had a + considerable sum of money wagered on Blaine's election; but he knew it was + likely to be very close, and he had an instant and deep conviction that + these three fatal words and Blaine's failure to repudiate them meant the + candidate's downfall. He immediately abandoned everything in the shape of + household duties, and within the briefest possible time had changed enough + money to make him safe, and leave him a good margin of winnings besides, + in the event of Blaine's defeat. This was evening. A very little later the + news of Blaine's blunder, announced from the opera-house stage, was like + the explosion of a bomb. But it was no news to George, who went home + rejoicing with his enemies. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0158" id="link2H_4_0158"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLII. PLATFORMING WITH CABLE + </h2> + <p> + The drain of many investments and the establishment of a publishing house + had told heavily on Clemens's finances. It became desirable to earn a + large sum of money with as much expedition as possible. Authors' readings + had become popular, and Clemens had read in Philadelphia and Boston with + satisfactory results. He now conceived the idea of a grand tour of authors + as a commercial enterprise. He proposed to Aldrich, Howells, and Cable + that he charter a private car for the purpose, and that with their own + housekeeping arrangements, cooking, etc., they could go swinging around + the circuit, reaping a golden harvest. He offered to be general manager of + the expedition, the impresario as it were, and agreed to guarantee the + others not less than seventy-five dollars a day apiece as their net return + from the “circus,” as he called it. + </p> + <p> + Howells and Aldrich liked well enough to consider it as an amusing + prospect, but only Cable was willing to realize it. He had been scouring + the country on his own account, and he was willing enough to join forces + with Mark Twain. + </p> + <p> + Clemens detested platforming, but the idea of reading from his books or + manuscript for some reason seemed less objectionable, and, as already + stated, the need of much money had become important. + </p> + <p> + He arranged with J. B. Pond for the business side of the expedition, + though in reality he was its proprietor. The private-car idea was given + up, but he employed Cable at a salary of four hundred and fifty dollars a + week and expenses, and he paid Pond a commission. Perhaps, without going + any further, we may say that the tour was a financial success, and yielded + a large return of the needed funds. + </p> + <p> + Clemens and Cable had a pleasant enough time, and had it not been for the + absence from home and the disagreeableness of railway travel, there would + have been little to regret. They were a curiously associated pair. Cable + was orthodox in his religion, devoted to Sunday-school, Bible reading, and + church affairs in general. Clemens—well, Clemens was different. On + the first evening of their tour, when the latter was comfortably settled + in bed with an entertaining book, Cable appeared with his Bible, and + proceeded to read a chapter aloud. Clemens made no comment, and this went + on for an evening or two more. Then he said: + </p> + <p> + “See here, Cable, we'll have to cut this part of the program out. + You can read the Bible as much as you please so long as you don't read it + to me.” + </p> + <p> + Cable retired courteously. He had a keen sense of humor, and most things + that Mark Twain did, whether he approved or not, amused him. Cable did not + smoke, but he seemed always to prefer the smoking compartment when they + traveled, to the more respectable portions of the car. One day Clemens + said to him: + </p> + <p> + “Cable, why do you sit in here? You don't smoke, and you know I + always smoke, and sometimes swear.” + </p> + <p> + Cable said, “I know, Mark, I don't do these things, but I can't help + admiring the way you do them.” + </p> + <p> + When Sunday came it was Mark Twain's great happiness to stay in bed all + day, resting after his week of labor; but Cable would rise, bright and + chipper, dress himself in neat and suitable attire, and visit the various + churches and Sunday-schools in town, usually making a brief address at + each, being always invited to do so. + </p> + <p> + It seems worth while to include one of the Clemens-Cable programs here—a + most satisfactory one. They varied it on occasion, and when they were two + nights in a place changed it completely, but the program here given was + the one they were likely to use after they had proved its worth: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + PROGRAM + + Richling's visit to Kate Riley + GEO. W. CABLE + + King Sollermun + MARK TWAIN + + (a) Kate Riley and Ristofolo + (b) Narcisse in mourning for “Lady Byron” + (c) Mary's Night Ride + GEO. W. CABLE + (a) Tragic Tale of the Fishwife + (b) A Trying Situation + (c) A Ghost Story + MARK TWAIN +</pre> + <p> + At a Mark Twain memorial meeting (November 30, 1910), where the few who + were left of his old companions told over quaint and tender memories, + George Cable recalled their reading days together and told of Mark Twain's + conscientious effort to do his best, to be worthy of himself, regardless + of all other concerns. He told how when they had been traveling for a + while Clemens seemed to realize that he was only giving the audience + nonsense; making them laugh at trivialities which they would forget before + they had left the entertainment hall. Cable said that up to that time he + had supposed Clemens's chief thought was the entertainment of the moment, + and that if the audience laughed he was satisfied. He told how he had sat + in the wings, waiting his turn, and heard the tides of laughter gather and + roll forward and break against the footlights, time and time again, and + how he had believed his colleague to be glorying in that triumph. What was + his surprise, then, on the way to the hotel in the carriage, when Clemens + groaned and seemed writhing in spirit and said: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Cable, I am demeaning myself. I am allowing myself to be a mere + buffoon. It's ghastly. I can't endure it any longer.” + </p> + <p> + Cable added that all that night and the next day Mark Twain devoted + himself to the study and rehearsal of selections which were justified not + only as humor, but as literature and art. + </p> + <p> + A good many interesting and amusing things would happen on such a tour. + Many of these are entirely forgotten, of course, but of others certain + memoranda have been preserved. Grover Cleveland had been elected when they + set out on their travels, but was still holding his position in Albany as + Governor of New York. When they reached Albany Cable and Clemens decided + to call on him. They drove to the Capitol and were shown into the + Governor's private office. Cleveland made them welcome, and, after + greetings, said to Clemens: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Clemens, I was a fellow-citizen of yours in Buffalo a good many + months some years ago, but you never called on me then. How do you explain + this?” + </p> + <p> + Clemens said: “Oh, that is very simple to answer, your Excellency. + In Buffalo you were a sheriff. I kept away from the sheriff as much as + possible, but you're Governor now, and on the way to the Presidency. It's + worth while coming to see you.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens meantime had been resting, half sitting, on the corner of the + Executive desk. He leaned back a little, and suddenly about a dozen young + men opened various doors, filed in and stood at attention, as if waiting + for orders. + </p> + <p> + No one spoke for a moment; then the Governor said to this collection of + attendants: + </p> + <p> + “You are dismissed, young gentlemen. Your services are not required. + Mr. Clemens is sitting on the bells.” + </p> + <p> + In Buffalo, when Clemens appeared on the stage, he leisurely considered + the audience for a moment; then he said: + </p> + <p> + “I miss a good many faces. They have gone—gone to the tomb, to + the gallows, or to the White House. All of us are entitled to at least one + of these distinctions, and it behooves us to be wise and prepare for all.” + </p> + <p> + On Thanksgiving Eve the readers were in Morristown, New Jersey, where they + were entertained by Thomas Nast. The cartoonist prepared a quiet supper + for them and they remained overnight in the Nast home. They were to leave + next morning by an early train, and Mrs. Nast had agreed to see that they + were up in due season. When she woke next morning there seemed a strange + silence in the house and she grew suspicious. Going to the servants' room, + she found them sleeping soundly. The alarm-clock in the back hall had + stopped at about the hour the guests retired. The studio clock was also + found stopped; in fact, every timepiece on the premises had retired from + business. Clemens had found that the clocks interfered with his getting to + sleep, and he had quieted them regardless of early trains and reading + engagements. On being accused of duplicity he said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, those clocks were all overworked, anyway. They will feel much + better for a night's rest.” + </p> + <p> + A few days later Nast sent him a caricature drawing—a picture which + showed Mark Twain getting rid of the offending clocks. + </p> + <p> + At Christmas-time they took a fortnight's holiday and Clemens went home to + Hartford. A surprise was awaiting him there. Mrs. Clemens had made an + adaptation of 'The Prince and the Pauper' play, and the children of the + neighborhood had prepared a presentation of it for his special + delectation. He knew, on his arrival home, that something mysterious was + in progress, for certain rooms were forbidden him; but he had no inkling + of their plan until just before the performance—when he was led + across the grounds to George Warner's home, into the large room there + where it was to be given, and placed in a seat directly in front of the + stage. + </p> + <p> + Gerhardt had painted the drop-curtain, and assisted in the general + construction of scenery and effects. The result was really imposing; but + presently, when the curtain rose and the guest of honor realized what it + was all about, and what they had undertaken for his pleasure, he was + deeply moved and supremely gratified. + </p> + <p> + There was but one hitch in the performance. There is a place where the + Prince says, “Fathers be alike, mayhap; mine hath not a doll's + temper.” + </p> + <p> + This was Susy's part, and as she said it the audience did not fail to + remember its literal appropriateness. There was a moment's silence, then a + titter, followed by a roar of laughter, in which everybody but the little + actors joined. They did not see the humor and were disturbed and grieved. + Curiously enough, Mrs Clemens herself, in arranging and casting the play, + had not considered the possibility of this effect. The parts were all + daintily played. The children wore their assumed personalities as if + native to them. Daisy Warner played the part of Tom Canty, Clara Clemens + was Lady Jane Grey. + </p> + <p> + It was only the beginning of The Prince and the Pauper productions. The + play was repeated, Clemens assisting, adding to the parts, and himself + playing the role of Miles Hendon. In her childish biography Susy says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Papa had only three days to learn the part in, but still we were all + sure that he could do it. The scene that he acted in was the scene + between Miles Hendon and the Prince, the “Prithee, pour the water” + scene. I was the Prince and papa and I rehearsed together two or + three times a day for the three days before the appointed evening. + Papa acted his part beautifully, and he added to the scene, making + it a good deal longer. He was inexpressibly funny, with his great + slouch hat and gait——oh such a gait! Papa made the Miles Hendon + scene a splendid success and every one was delighted with the scene, + and papa too. We had great fun with our “Prince and Pauper,” and I + think we none of us shall forget how immensely funny papa was in it. + He certainly could have been an actor as well as an author. +</pre> + <p> + The holidays over, Cable and Clemens were off on the circuit again. At + Rochester an incident happened which led to the writing of one of Mark + Twain's important books, 'A Connecticut Yankee at King Arthur's Court'. + Clemens and Cable had wandered into a book-store for the purpose of + finding something to read. Pulling over some volumes on one of the tables, + Clemens happened to pick up a little green, cloth-bound book, and after + looking at the title turned the pages rather curiously and with increasing + interest. + </p> + <p> + “Cable,” he said, “do you know anything about this book, + the Arthurian legends of Sir Thomas Malory, Morte Arthure?” + </p> + <p> + Cable answered: “Mark, that is one of the most beautiful books in + the world. Let me buy it for you. You will love it more than any book you + ever read.” + </p> + <p> + So Clemens came to know the old chronicler's version of the rare Round + Table legends, and from that first acquaintance with them to the last days + of his life seldom let the book go far from him. He read and reread those + quaint, stately tales and reverenced their beauty, while fairly reveling + in the absurdities of that ancient day. Sir Ector's lament he regarded as + one of the most simply beautiful pieces of writing in the English tongue, + and some of the combats and quests as the most ridiculous absurdities in + romance. Presently he conceived the idea of linking that day, with its + customs, costumes, and abuses, with the progress of the present, or + carrying back into that age of magicians and armor and superstition and + cruelties a brisk American of progressive ideas who would institute + reforms. His note-book began to be filled with memoranda of situations and + possibilities for the tale he had in mind. These were vague, unformed + fancies as yet, and it would be a long time before the story would become + a fact. This was the first entry: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Dream of being a knight-errant in armor in the Middle Ages. Have + the notions and habits, though, of the present day mixed with the + necessities of that. No pockets in the armor. No way to manage + certain requirements of nature. Can't scratch. Cold in the head + and can't blow. Can't get a handkerchief; can't use iron sleeve; + iron gets red-hot in the sun; leaks in the rain; gets white with + frost and freezes me solid in winter; makes disagreeable clatter + when I enter church. Can't dress or undress myself. Always getting + struck by lightning. Fall down and can't get up. +</pre> + <p> + Twenty-one years later, discussing the genesis of the story, he said: + </p> + <p> + “As I read those quaint and curious old legends I suppose I + naturally contrasted those days with ours, and it made me curious to fancy + what might be the picturesque result if we could dump the nineteenth + century down into the sixth century and observe the consequences.” + </p> + <p> + The reading tour continued during the first two months of the new year and + carried them as far west as Chicago. They read in Hannibal and Keokuk, and + Clemens spent a day in the latter place with his mother, now living with + Orion, brisk and active for her years and with her old-time force of + character. Mark Twain, arranging for her Keokuk residence, had written: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ma wants to board with you, and pay her board. She will pay you $20 + a month (she wouldn't pay a cent more in heaven; she is obstinate on + this point), and as long as she remains with you and is content I + will add $25 a month to the sum Perkins already sends you. +</pre> + <p> + Jane Clemens attended the Keokuk reading, and later, at home, when her + children asked her if she could still dance, she rose, and at eighty-one + tripped as lightly as a girl. It was the last time that Mark Twain ever + saw his mother in the health and vigor which had been always so much a + part of her personality. + </p> + <p> + Clemens saw another relative on that trip; in St. Louis, James Lampton, + the original of Colonel Sellers, called. + </p> + <p> + “He was become old and white-headed, but he entered to me in the + same old breezy way of his earlier life, and he was all there, yet—not + a detail wanting: the happy light in his eye, the abounding hope in his + heart, the persuasive tongue, the miracle-breeding imagination—they + were all there; and before I could turn around he was polishing up his + Aladdin's lamp and flashing the secret riches of the world before me. I + said to myself: “I did not overdraw him by a shade, I set him down + as he was; and he is the same man to-day. Cable will recognize him.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens opened the door into Cable's room and allowed the golden + dream-talk to float in. It was of a “small venture” which the + caller had undertaken through his son. + </p> + <p> + “Only a little thing—a mere trifle—a bagatelle. I + suppose there's a couple of millions in it, possibly three, but not more, + I think; still, for a boy, you know——” + </p> + <p> + It was the same old Cousin Jim. Later, when he had royally accepted some + tickets for the reading and bowed his exit, Cable put his head in at the + door. + </p> + <p> + “That was Colonel Sellers,” he said. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0159" id="link2H_4_0159"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLIII. HUCK FINN COMES INTO HIS OWN + </h2> + <p> + In the December Century (1884) appeared a chapter from 'The Adventures of + Huckleberry Finn', “The Grangerford-Shepherdson Feud,” a piece + of writing which Edmund Clarence Stederian, Brander Matthews, and others + promptly ranked as among Mark Twain's very best; when this was followed, + in the January number, by “King Sollermun,” a chapter which in + its way delighted quite as many readers, the success of the new book was + accounted certain.—[Stedman, writing to Clemens of this instalment, + said: “To my mind it is not only the most finished and condensed + thing you have done but as dramatic and powerful an episode as I know in + modern literature.”] + </p> + <p> + 'The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn' was officially published in England + and America in December, 1884, but the book was not in the canvassers' + hands for delivery until February. By this time the orders were + approximately for forty thousand copies, a number which had increased to + fifty thousand a few weeks later. Webster's first publication venture was + in the nature of a triumph. Clemens wrote to him March 16th: + </p> + <p> + “Your news is splendid. Huck certainly is a success.” + </p> + <p> + He felt that he had demonstrated his capacity as a general director and + Webster had proved his efficiency as an executive. He had no further need + of an outside publisher. + </p> + <p> + The story of Huck Finn will probably stand as the best of Mark Twain's + purely fictional writings. A sequel to Tom Sawyer, it is greater than its + predecessor; greater artistically, though perhaps with less immediate + interest for the juvenile reader. In fact, the books are so different that + they are not to be compared—wherein lies the success of the later + one. Sequels are dangerous things when the story is continuous, but in + Huckleberry Finn the story is a new one, wholly different in environment, + atmosphere, purpose, character, everything. The tale of Huck and Nigger + Jim drifting down the mighty river on a raft, cross-secting the various + primitive aspects of human existence, constitutes one of the most + impressive examples of picaresque fiction in any language. It has been + ranked greater than Gil Blas, greater even than Don Quixote; certainly it + is more convincing, more human, than either of these tales. Robert Louis + Stevenson once wrote, “It is a book I have read four times, and am + quite ready to begin again to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + It is by no means a flawless book, though its defects are trivial enough. + The illusion of Huck as narrator fails the least bit here and there; the + “four dialects” are not always maintained; the occasional + touch of broad burlesque detracts from the tale's reality. We are inclined + to resent this. We never wish to feel that Huck is anything but a real + character. We want him always the Huck who was willing to go to hell if + necessary, rather than sacrifice Nigger Jim; the Huck who watched the + river through long nights, and, without caring to explain why, felt his + soul go out to the sunrise. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Two or three days and nights went by; I reckon I might say they swum + by, they slid along so quiet and smooth and lovely. Here is the way + we put in the time. It was a monstrous big river down there + —sometimes a mile and a half wide; we run nights and laid up and hid + daytimes; soon as the night was most gone we stopped navigating and + tied up—nearly always in the dead water under a towhead; and then + cut young cottonwoods and willows and hid the raft with them. Then + we set out the lines. Next we slid into the river and had a swim, + so as to freshen up and cool off; then we set down on the sandy + bottom where the water was about knee deep, and watched the daylight + come. Not a sound anywheres—perfectly still—just like the whole + world was asleep, only sometimes the bullfrogs a-cluttering, maybe. + The first thing to see, looking away over the water, was a kind of + dull line—that was the woods on t'other side, you couldn't make + nothing else out; then a pale place in the sky; then more paleness, + spreading around; then the river softened up, away off, and warn't + black anymore, but gray; you could see little dark spots drifting + along, ever so far away—trading scows, and such things; and long + black streaks—rafts; sometimes you could hear a sweep screaking; or + jumbled up voices, it was so still, and sounds come so far; and by- + and-by you could see a streak on the water which you know by the + look of the streak that there's a snag there in a swift current + which breaks on it and makes that streak look that way; and you see + the mist curl up off the water, and the east reddens up, and the + river, and you make out a log-cabin in the edge of the woods, away + on the bank on t'other side of the river, being a wood-yard, likely, + and piled by them cheats so you can throw a dog through it + anywheres; then the nice breeze springs up, and comes fanning you + over there, so cool and fresh, and sweet to smell, on account of the + woods and the flowers.... And next you've got the full day, and + everything smiling in the sun, and the song-birds just going it! +</pre> + <p> + This is the Huck we want, and this is the Huck we usually have, and that + the world has long been thankful for. + </p> + <p> + Take the story as a whole, it is a succession of startling and unique + pictures. The cabin in the swamp which Huck and his father used together + in their weird, ghastly relationship; the night adventure with Jim on the + wrecked steamboat; Huck's night among the towheads; the + Grangerford-Shepherdson battle; the killing of Boggs—to name a few + of the many vivid presentations—these are of no time or literary + fashion and will never lose their flavor nor their freshness so long as + humanity itself does not change. The terse, unadorned + Grangerford-Shepherdson episode—built out of the Darnell—Watson + feuds—[See Life on the Mississippi, chap. xxvi. Mark Twain himself, + as a cub pilot, came near witnessing the battle he describes.]—is + simply classic in its vivid casualness, and the same may be said of almost + every incident on that long river-drift; but this is the strength, the + very essence of picaresque narrative. It is the way things happen in + reality; and the quiet, unexcited frame of mind in which Huck is prompted + to set them down would seem to be the last word in literary art. To Huck, + apparently, the killing of Boggs and Colonel Sherburn's defiance of the + mob are of about the same historical importance as any other incidents of + the day's travel. When Colonel Sherburn threw his shotgun across his arm + and bade the crowd disperse Huck says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The crowd washed back sudden, and then broke all apart and went + tearing off every which way, and Buck Harkness he heeled it after + them, looking tolerable cheap. I could a staid if I'd a wanted to, + but I didn't want to. + + I went to the circus, and loafed around the back side till the + watchman went by, and then dived in under the tent. +</pre> + <p> + That is all. No reflections, no hysterics; a murder and a mob dispersed, + all without a single moral comment. And when the Shepherdsons had got done + killing the Grangerfords, and Huck had tugged the two bodies ashore and + covered Buck Grangerford's face with a handkerchief, crying a little + because Buck had been good to him, he spent no time in sentimental + reflection or sermonizing, but promptly hunted up Jim and the raft and sat + down to a meal of corn-dodgers, buttermilk, pork and cabbage, and greens: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There ain't nothing in the world so good, when it is cooked right; + and while I eat my supper we talked, and had a good time. I was + powerful glad to get away from the feuds, and so was Jim to get away + from the swamp. We said there warn't no home like a raft, after + all. Other places do seem so cramped up and smothery, but a raft + don't; you feel mighty free and easy and comfortable on a raft. +</pre> + <p> + It was Huck Finn's morality that caused the book to be excluded from the + Concord Library, and from other libraries here and there at a later day. + The orthodox mental attitude of certain directors of juvenile literature + could not condone Huck's looseness in the matter of statement and property + rights, and in spite of New England traditions, Massachusetts librarians + did not take any too kindly to his uttered principle that, after thinking + it over and taking due thought on the deadly sin of abolition, he had + decided that he'd go to hell rather than give Jim over to slavery. Poor + vagrant Ben Blankenship, hiding his runaway negro in an Illinois swamp, + could not dream that his humanity would one day supply the moral episode + of an immortal book. + </p> + <p> + Able critics have declared that the psychology of Huck Finn is the book's + large feature: Huck's moral point of view—the struggle between his + heart and his conscience concerning the sin of Jim's concealment, and his + final decision of self-sacrifice. Time may show that as an epic of the + river, the picture of a vanished day, it will rank even greater. The + problems of conscience we have always with us, but periods once passed are + gone forever. Certainly Huck's loyalty to that lovely soul Nigger Jim was + beautiful, though after all it may not have been so hard for Huck, who + could be loyal to anything. Huck was loyal to his father, loyal to Tom + Sawyer of course, loyal even to those two river tramps and frauds, the + King and the Duke, for whom he lied prodigiously, only weakening when a + new and livelier loyalty came into view—loyalty to Mary Wilks. + </p> + <p> + The King and the Duke, by the way, are not elsewhere matched in fiction. + The Duke was patterned after a journeyman-printer Clemens had known in + Virginia City, but the King was created out of refuse from the whole human + family—“all tears and flapdoodle,” the very ultimate of + disrepute and hypocrisy—so perfect a specimen that one must admire, + almost love, him. “Hain't we all the fools in town on our side? and + ain't that a big enough majority in any town?” he asks in a critical + moment—a remark which stamps him as a philosopher of classic rank. + We are full of pity at last when this pair of rapscallions ride out of the + history on a rail, and feel some of Huck's inclusive loyalty and all the + sorrowful truth of his comment: “Human beings can be awful cruel to + one another.” + </p> + <p> + The “poor old king” Huck calls him, and confesses how he felt + “ornery and humble and to blame, somehow,” for the old scamp's + misfortunes. “A person's conscience ain't got no sense,” he + says, and Huck is never more real to us, or more lovable, than in that + moment. Huck is what he is because, being made so, he cannot well be + otherwise. He is a boy throughout—such a boy as Mark Twain had known + and in some degree had been. One may pettily pick a flaw here and there in + the tale's construction if so minded, but the moral character of Huck + himself is not open to criticism. And indeed any criticism of this the + greatest of Mark Twain's tales of modern life would be as the mere + scratching of the granite of an imperishable structure. Huck Finn is a + monument that no puny pecking will destroy. It is built of indestructible + blocks of human nature; and if the blocks do not always fit, and the + ornaments do not always agree, we need not fear. Time will blur the + incongruities and moss over the mistakes. The edifice will grow more + beautiful with the years. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0160" id="link2H_4_0160"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLIV. THE MEMOIRS OF GENERAL GRANT + </h2> + <p> + The success of Huck Finn, though sufficiently important in itself, + prepared the way for a publishing venture by the side of which it dwindled + to small proportions. One night (it was early in November, 1884), when + Cable and Clemens had finished a reading at Chickering Hall, Clemens, + coming out into the wet blackness, happened to hear Richard Watson + Gilder's voice say to some unseen companion: + </p> + <p> + “Do you know General Grant has actually determined to write his + memoirs and publish them. He has said so to-day, in so many words.” + </p> + <p> + Of course Clemens was immediately interested. It was the thing he had + proposed to Grant some three years previously, during his call that day + with Howells concerning the Toronto consulship. + </p> + <p> + With Mrs. Clemens, he promptly overtook Gilder and accompanied him to his + house, where they discussed the matter in its various particulars. Gilder + said that the Century Editors had endeavored to get Grant to contribute to + their war series, but that not until his financial disaster, as a member + of the firm of Grant & Ward, had he been willing to consider the + matter. He said that Grant now welcomed the idea of contributing three + papers to the series, and that the promised payment of five hundred + dollars each for these articles had gladdened his heart and relieved him + of immediate anxiety.—[Somewhat later the Century Company, + voluntarily, added liberally to this sum.] + </p> + <p> + Gilder added that General Grant seemed now determined to continue his work + until he had completed a book, though this at present was only a prospect. + </p> + <p> + Clemens was in the habit of calling on Grant, now and then, to smoke a + cigar with him, and he dropped in next morning to find out just how far + the book idea had developed, and what were the plans of publication. He + found the General and his son, Colonel Fred Grant, discussing some + memoranda, which turned out to be a proposition from the Century Company + for the book publication of his memoirs. Clemens asked to be allowed to + look over the proposed terms, and when he had done so he said: + </p> + <p> + “General, it is clear that the Century people do not realize the + importance—the commercial magnitude of your book. It is not strange + that this is true, for they are comparatively new publishers and have had + little or no experience with books of this class. The terms they propose + indicate that they expect to sell five, possibly ten thousand copies. A + book from your hand, telling the story of your life and battles, should + sell not less than a quarter of a million, perhaps twice that sum. It + should be sold only by subscription, and you are entitled to double the + royalty here proposed. I do not believe it is to your interest to conclude + this contract without careful thought and investigation. Write to the + American Publishing Company at Hartford and see what they will do for you.” + </p> + <p> + But Grant demurred. He said that, while no arrangements had been made with + the Century Company, he thought it only fair and right that they should + have the book on reasonable terms; certainly on terms no greater than he + could obtain elsewhere. He said that, all things being equal, the book + ought to go to the man who had first suggested it to him. + </p> + <p> + Clemens spoke up: “General, if that is so, it belongs to me.” + </p> + <p> + Grant did not understand until Clemens recalled to him how he had urged + him, in that former time, to write his memoirs; had pleaded with him, + agreeing to superintend the book's publication. Then he said: + </p> + <p> + “General, I am publishing my own book, and by the time yours is + ready it is quite possible that I shall have the best equipped + subscription establishment in the country. If you will place your book + with my firm—and I feel that I have at least an equal right in the + consideration—I will pay you twenty per cent. of the list price, or, + if you prefer, I will give you seventy per cent. of the net returns and I + will pay all office expenses out of my thirty per cent.” + </p> + <p> + General Grant was really grieved at this proposal. It seemed to him that + here was a man who was offering to bankrupt himself out of pure + philanthropy—a thing not to be permitted. He intimated that he had + asked the Century Company president, Roswell Smith, a careful-headed + business man, if he thought his book would pay as well as Sherman's, which + the Scribners had published at a profit to Sherman of twenty-five thousand + dollars, and that Smith had been unwilling to guarantee that amount to the + author.—[Mark Twain's note-book, under date of March, 1885, contains + this memorandum: “Roswell Smith said to me: 'I'm glad you got the + book, Mr. Clemens; glad there was somebody with courage enough to take it, + under the circumstances. What do you think the General wanted to require + of me?' + </p> + <p> + “'He wanted me to insure a sale of twenty-five thousand sets of his + book. I wouldn't risk such a guarantee on any book that was ever + published.'” + </p> + <p> + Yet Roswell Smith, not so many years later, had so far enlarged his views + of subscription publishing that he fearlessly and successfully invested a + million dollars or more in a dictionary, regardless of the fact that the + market was already thought to be supplied.] + </p> + <p> + Clemens said: + </p> + <p> + “General, I have my check-book with me. I will draw you a check now + for twenty-five thousand dollars for the first volume of your memoirs, and + will add a like amount for each volume you may write as an advance royalty + payment, and your royalties will continue right along when this amount has + been reached.” + </p> + <p> + Colonel Fred Grant now joined in urging that matters be delayed, at least + until more careful inquiry concerning the possibilities of publishing + could be made. + </p> + <p> + Clemens left then, and set out on his trip with Cable, turning the whole + matter over to Webster and Colonel Fred for settlement. Meantime, the word + that General Grant was writing his memoirs got into the newspapers and + various publishing propositions came to him. In the end the General sent + over to Philadelphia for his old friend, George W. Childs, and laid the + whole matter before him. Childs said later it was plain that General + Grant, on the score of friendship, if for no other reason, distinctly + wished to give the book to Mark Twain. It seemed not to be a question of + how much money he would make, but of personal feeling entirely. Webster's + complete success with Huck Finn being now demonstrated, Colonel Fred Grant + agreed that he believed Clemens and Webster could handle the book as + profitably as anybody; and after investigation Childs was of the same + opinion. The decision was that the firm of Charles L. Webster & Co. + should have the book, and arrangements for drawing the contract were made. + </p> + <p> + General Grant, however, was still somewhat uneasy as to the terms. He + thought he was taking an unfair advantage in receiving so large a + proportion of the profits. He wrote to Clemens, asking him which of his + two propositions—the twenty per cent. gross-royalty or the seventy + per cent. of the net profit—would be the best all around. Clemens + sent Webster to tell him that he believed the simplest, as well as the + most profitable for the author, would be the twenty per cent. arrangement. + Whereupon Grant replied that he would take the alternative; as in that + case, if the book were a failure, and there were no profits, Clemens would + not be obliged to pay him anything. He could not consent to the thought of + receiving twenty per cent. on a book published at a loss. + </p> + <p> + Meantime, Grant had developed a serious illness. The humiliation of his + business failure had undermined his health. The papers announced his + malady as cancer of the tongue. In a memorandum which Clemens made, + February 26, 1885, he states that on the 21st he called at the Grant home, + 3 East 66th Street, and was astonished to see how thin and weak the + General looked. He was astonished because the newspaper, in a second + report, had said the threatening symptoms had disappeared, that the cancer + alarm was a false one. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I took for granted the report, and said I had been glad to see that + news. He smiled and said, “Yes—if it had only been true.” + + One of the physicians was present, and he startled me by saying the + General's condition was the opposite of encouraging. + + Then the talk drifted to business, and the General presently said: + “I mean you shall have the book—I have about made up my mind to + that—but I wish to write to Mr. Roswell Smith first, and tell him I + have so decided. I think this is due him.” + + From the beginning the General has shown a fine delicacy toward + those people—a delicacy which was native to the character of the + man who put into the Appomattox terms of surrender the words, + “Officers may retain their side-arms,” to save General Lee the + humiliation of giving up his sword. [Note-book.] +</pre> + <p> + The physician present was Dr. Douglas, and upon Clemens assuming that the + General's trouble was probably due to smoking, also that it was a warning + to those who smoked to excess, himself included, Dr. Douglas said that + General Grant's affliction could not be attributed altogether to smoking, + but far more to his distress of mind, his year-long depression of spirit, + the grief of his financial disaster. Dr. Douglas's remark started General + Grant upon the subject of his connection with Ward, which he discussed + with great freedom and apparent relief of mind. Never at any time did he + betray any resentment toward Ward, but characterized him as one might an + offending child. He spoke as a man who has been deeply wronged and + humiliated and betrayed, but without a venomous expression or one with + revengeful nature. Clemens confessed in his notes that all the time he + himself was “inwardly boiling—scalping Ward—flaying him + alive—breaking him on the wheel—pounding him to a jelly.” + </p> + <p> + While he was talking Colonel Grant said: + </p> + <p> + “Father is letting you see that the Grant family are a pack of + fools, Mr. Clemens.” + </p> + <p> + The General objected to this statement. He said that the facts could be + produced which would show that when Ward laid siege to a man he was pretty + certain to turn out to be a fool; as much of a fool as any of the Grant + family. He said that nobody could call the president of the Erie Railroad + a fool, yet Ward had beguiled him of eight hundred thousand dollars, + robbed him of every cent of it. + </p> + <p> + He cited another man that no one could call a fool who had invested in + Ward to the extent of half a million. He went on to recall many such + cases. He told of one man who had come to the office on the eve of + departure for Europe and handed Ward a check for fifty thousand dollars, + saying: + </p> + <p> + “I have no use for it at present. See what you can do with it for + me.” By and by this investor, returning from Europe, dropped in and + said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, did anything happen?” + </p> + <p> + Ward indifferently turned to his private ledger, consulted it, then drew a + check for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and handed it over, with + the casual remark: + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes, something happened; not much yet—a little too + soon.” + </p> + <p> + The man stared at the check, then thrust it back into Ward's hand. “That's + all right. It's plenty good enough for me. Set that hen again,” and + left the place. + </p> + <p> + Of course Ward made no investments. His was the first playing on a + colossal scale of the now worn-out “get rich quick” confidence + game. Such dividends as were made came out of the principal. Ward was the + Napoleon of that game, whether he invented it or not. Clemens agreed that, + as far as himself or any of his relatives were concerned, they would + undoubtedly have trusted Ward. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Grant followed him to the door when he left, and told him that the + physicians feared his father might not live more than a few weeks longer, + but that meantime he had been writing steadily, and that the first volume + was complete and fully half the second. Three days later the formal + contract was closed, and Webster & Co. promptly advanced. General + Grant ten thousand dollars for imminent demands, a welcome arrangement, + for Grant's debts and expenses were many, and his available resources + restricted to the Century payments for his articles. + </p> + <p> + Immediately the office of Webster & Co. was warm with affairs. + Reporters were running hot-foot for news of the great contract by which + Mark Twain was to publish the life of General Grant. No publishing + enterprise of such vast moment had ever been undertaken, and no publishing + event, before or since, ever received the amount of newspaper comment. The + names of General Grant and Mark Twain associated would command columns, + whatever the event, and that Mark Twain was to become the publisher of + Grant's own story of his battles was of unprecedented importance. + </p> + <p> + The partners were sufficiently occupied. Estimates and prices for vast + quantities of paper were considered, all available presses were contracted + for, binderies were pledged exclusively for the Grant book. Clemens was + boiling over with plans and suggestions for distribution. Webster was half + wild with the tumult of the great campaign. Applications for agencies + poured in. + </p> + <p> + In those days there were general subscription agencies which divided the + country into districts, and the heads of these agencies Webster summoned + to New York and laid down the law to them concerning the new book. It was + not a time for small dealings, and Webster rose to the occasion. By the + time these men returned to their homes they had practically pledged + themselves to a quarter of a million sets of the Grant Memoirs, and this + estimate they believed to be conservative. + </p> + <p> + Webster now moved into larger and more pretentious quarters. He took a + store-room at 42 East 14th Street, Union Square, and surrounded himself + with a capable force of assistants. He had become, all at once, the most + conspicuous publisher in the world. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0161" id="link2H_4_0161"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLV. DAYS WITH A DYING HERO + </h2> + <p> + The contract for the publication of the Grant Life was officially closed + February 27, 1885. Five days later, on the last day and at the last hour + of President Arthur's administration, and of the Congress then sitting, a + bill was passed placing Grant as full General, with full pay, on the + retired army list. The bill providing for this somewhat tardy + acknowledgment was rushed through at the last moment, and it is said that + the Congressional clock was set back so that this enactment might become a + law before the administration changed. + </p> + <p> + Clemens was with General Grant when the news of this action was read to + him. Grant had greatly desired such recognition, and it meant more to him + than to any one present, yet Clemens in his notes records: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Every face there betrayed strong excitement and emotion except one + —General Grant's. He read the telegram, but not a shade or + suggestion of a change exhibited itself in his iron countenance. + The volume of his emotion was greater than all the other emotions + there present combined, but he was able to suppress all expression + of it and make no sign. +</pre> + <p> + Grant's calmness, endurance, and consideration during these final days + astonished even those most familiar with his noble character. One night + Gerhardt came into the library at Hartford with the announcement that he + wished to show his patron a small bust he had been making in clay of + General Grant. Clemens did not show much interest in the prospect, but + when the work was uncovered he became enthusiastic. He declared it was the + first likeness he had ever seen of General Grant that approached reality. + He agreed that the Grant family ought to see it, and that he would take + Gerhardt with him next day in order that he might be within reach in case + they had any suggestions. They went to New York next morning, and called + at the Grant home during the afternoon. + </p> + <p> + From the note-book: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Friday, March 20, 1885. Gerhardt and I arrived at General Grant's + about 2.30 P.m. and I asked if the family would look at a small + clay bust of the General which Gerhardt had made from a photograph. + Colonel Fred and Jesse were absent to receive their sister, Mrs. + Sartoris, who would arrive from Europe about 4.30; but the three + Mrs. Grants examined the work and expressed strong approval of it, + and also great gratification that Mr. Gerhardt had undertaken it. + Mrs. Jesse Grant had lately dreamed that she was inquiring where the + maker of my bust could be found (she had seen a picture of it in + Huck Finn, which was published four weeks ago), for she wanted the + same artist to make one of General Grant. The ladies examined the + bust critically and pointed out defects, while Gerhardt made the + necessary corrections. Presently Mrs. General Grant suggested that + Gerhardt step in and look at the General. I had been in there + talking with the General, but had never thought of asking him to let + a stranger come in. So Gerhardt went in with the ladies and me, and + the inspection and cross-fire began: “There, I was sure his nose was + so and so,” and, “I was sure his forehead was so and so,” and, + “Don't you think his head is so and so?” And so everybody walked + around and about the old hero, who lay half reclining in his easy + chair, but well muffled up, and submitting to all this as serenely + as if he were used to being served so. One marked feature of + General Grant's character is his exceeding gentleness, goodness, + sweetness. Every time I have been in his presence—lately and + formerly—my mind was drawn to that feature. I wonder it has not + been more spoken of. + + Presently he said, let Gerhardt bring in his clay and work there, if + Gerhardt would not mind his reclining attitude. Of course we were + glad. A table for the bust was moved up in front of him; the ladies + left the room; I got a book; Gerhardt went to work; and for an hour + there was perfect stillness, and for the first time during the day + the General got a good, sound, peaceful nap. General Badeau came + in, and probably interrupted that nap. He spoke out as strongly as + the others concerning the great excellence of the likeness. He had + some sheets of MS. in his hand, and said, “I've been reading what + you wrote this morning, General, and it is of the utmost value; it + solves a riddle that has puzzled men's brains all these years and + makes the thing clear and rational.” I asked what the puzzle was, + and he said, “It was why Grant did not immediately lay siege to + Vicksburg after capturing Port Hudson” (at least that is my + recollection, now toward midnight, of General Badeau's answer). +</pre> + <p> + The little bust of Grant which Gerhardt worked on that day was widely + reproduced in terra-cotta, and is still regarded by many as the most + nearly correct likeness of Grant. The original is in possession of the + family. + </p> + <p> + General Grant worked industriously on his book. He had a superb memory and + worked rapidly. Webster & Co. offered to supply him with a + stenographer, and this proved a great relief. Sometimes he dictated ten + thousand words at a sitting. It was reported at the time, and it has been + stated since, that Grant did not write the Memoirs himself, but only made + notes, which were expanded by others. But this is not true. General Grant + wrote or dictated every word of the story himself, then had the manuscript + read aloud to him and made his own revisions. He wrote against time, for + he knew that his disease was fatal. Fortunately the lease of life granted + him was longer than he had hoped for, though the last chapters were + written when he could no longer speak, and when weakness and suffering + made the labor a heavy one indeed; but he never flinched or faltered, + never at any time suggested that the work be finished by another hand. + </p> + <p> + Early in April General Grant's condition became very alarming, and on the + night of the 3d it was believed he could not live until morning. But he + was not yet ready to surrender. He rallied and renewed his task; feebly at + first, but more perseveringly as each day seemed to bring a little added + strength, or perhaps it was only resolution. Now and then he appeared + depressed as to the quality of his product. Once Colonel Fred Grant + suggested to Clemens that if he could encourage the General a little it + might be worth while. Clemens had felt always such a reverence and awe for + the great soldier that he had never dreamed of complimenting his + literature. + </p> + <p> + “I was as much surprised as Columbus's cook could have been to learn + that Columbus wanted his opinion as to how Columbus was doing his + navigating.” + </p> + <p> + He did not hesitate to give it, however, and with a clear conscience. + Grant wrote as he had fought; with a simple, straightforward dignity, with + a style that is not a style at all but the very absence of it, and + therefore the best of all literary methods. It happened that Clemens had + been comparing some of Grant's chapters with Caesar's Commentaries, and + was able to say, in all sincerity, that the same high merits distinguished + both books: clarity of statement, directness, simplicity, manifest + truthfulness, fairness and justice toward friend and foe alike, soldierly + candor and frankness, and soldierly avoidance of flowery speech. + </p> + <p> + “I placed the two books side by side upon the same level,” he + said, “and I still think that they belong there. I learned afterward + that General Grant was pleased with this verdict. It shows that he was + just a man, just a human being, just an author.” + </p> + <p> + Within two months after the agents had gone to work canvassing for the + Grant Memoirs—which is to say by the 1st of May, 1885—orders + for sixty thousand sets had been received, and on that day Mark Twain, in + his note-book, made a memorandum estimate of the number of books that the + country would require, figuring the grand total at three hundred thousand + sets of two volumes each. Then he says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + If these chickens should really hatch according to my account, + General Grant's royalties will' amount to $420,000, and will make + the largest single check ever paid an author in the world's history. + Up to the present time the largest one ever paid was to Macaulay on + his History of England, L20,000. If I pay the General in silver + coin at $12 per pound it will weigh seventeen tons. +</pre> + <p> + Certainly this has a flavor in it of Colonel Sellers, but we shall see by + and by in how far this calculation was justified. + </p> + <p> + Grant found the society of Mark Twain cheering and comforting, and Clemens + held himself in readiness to go to the dying man at call. On the 26th of + May he makes this memorandum: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It is curious and dreadful to sit up in this way and talk cheerful + nonsense to General Grant, and he under sentence of death with that + cancer. He says he has made the book too large by 200 pages—not a + bad fault. A short time ago we were afraid we would lack 400 of + being enough. + + To-day talked with General Grant about his and my first great + Missouri campaign in 1861. He surprised an empty camp near Florida, + Missouri, on Salt River, which I had been occupying a day or two + before. How near he came to playing the devil with his future + publisher. +</pre> + <p> + Of course Clemens would amuse the old commander with the tale of his + soldiering, how his company had been chased through the brush and mud by + the very announcement that Grant was coming. Some word of this got to the + Century editors, who immediately proposed that Mark Twain contribute to + the magazine War Series the story of his share in the Rebellion, and + particularly of his war relations with General Grant. So the “Private + History of a Campaign that Failed” was prepared as Mark Twain's + side-light on the history of the Rebellion; and if it was not important + history it was at least amusing, and the telling of that tale in Mark + Twain's inimitable fashion must have gone far toward making cheerful those + last sad days of his ancient enemy. + </p> + <p> + During one of their talks General Grant spoke of the question as to + whether he or Sherman had originated the idea of the march to the sea. + Grant said: + </p> + <p> + “Neither of us originated the idea of that march. The enemy did it.” + </p> + <p> + Reports were circulated of estrangements between General Grant and the + Century Company, and between Mark Twain and the Century Company, as a + result of the book decision. Certain newspapers exploited and magnified + these rumors—some went so far as to accuse Mark Twain of duplicity, + and to charge him with seeking to obtain a vast fortune for himself at the + expense of General Grant and his family. All of which was the merest + nonsense. The Century Company, Webster & Co., General Grant, and Mark + Twain individually, were all working harmoniously, and nothing but the + most cordial relations and understanding prevailed. As to the charge of + unfair dealing on the part of Mark Twain, this was too absurd, even then, + to attract more than momentary attention. Webster & Co., somewhat + later in the year, gave to the press a clear statement of their publishing + arrangement, though more particularly denying the report that General + Grant had been unable to complete his work. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0162" id="link2H_4_0162"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLVI. THE CLOSE OF A GREAT CAREER + </h2> + <p> + The Clemens household did not go to Elmira that year until the 27th of + June. Meantime General Grant had been taken to Mount McGregor, near the + Adirondacks. The day after Clemens reached Elmira there came a summons + saying that the General had asked to see him. He went immediately, and + remained several days. The resolute old commander was very feeble by this + time. It was three months since he had been believed to be dying, yet he + was still alive, still at work, though he could no longer speak. He was + adding, here and there, a finishing touch to his manuscript, writing with + effort on small slips of paper containing but a few words each. His + conversation was carried on in the same way. Mark Twain brought back a + little package of those precious slips, and some of them are still + preserved. The writing is perfectly legible, and shows no indication of a + trembling hand. + </p> + <p> + On one of these slips is written: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There is much more that I could do if I was a well man. I do not + write quite as clearly as I could if well. If I could read it over + myself many little matters of anecdote and incident would suggest + themselves to me. +</pre> + <p> + On another: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Have you seen any portion of the second volume? It is up to the + end, or nearly so. As much more work as I have done to-day will + finish it. I have worked faster than if I had been well. I have + used my three boys and a stenographer. +</pre> + <p> + And on still another: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + If I could have two weeks of strength I could improve it very much. + As I am, however, it will have to go about as it is, with + verifications by the boys and by suggestions which will enable me to + make a point clear here and there. +</pre> + <p> + Certainly no campaign was ever conducted with a braver heart. As long as + his fingers could hold a pencil he continued at his task. Once he asked if + any estimate could now be made of what portion would accrue to his family + from the publication. Clemens's prompt reply, that more than one hundred + thousand sets had been sold, and that already the amount of his share, + secured by safe bonds, exceeded one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, + seemed to give him deep comfort. Clemens told him that the country was as + yet not one-third canvassed, and that without doubt there turns would be + twice as much more by the end of the year. Grant made no further inquiry, + and probably never again mentioned the subject to any one. + </p> + <p> + When Clemens left, General Grant was sitting, fully dressed, with a shawl + about his shoulders, pencil and paper beside him. It was a picture that + would never fade from the memory. In a later memorandum he says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I then believed he would live several months. He was still adding + little perfecting details to his book, and preface, among other + things. He was entirely through a few days later. Since then the + lack of any strong interest to employ his mind has enabled the + tedious weariness to kill him. I think his book kept him alive + several months. He was a very great man and superlatively good. +</pre> + <p> + This note was made July 23, 1885, at 10 A.M., on receipt of the news that + General Grant was dead. To Henry Ward Beecher, Clemens wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + One day he put his pencil aside and said there was nothing more to + do. If I had been there I could have foretold the shock that struck + the world three days later. +</pre> + <p> + It can be truly said that all the nation mourned. General Grant had no + enemies, political or sectional, in those last days. The old soldier + battling with a deadly disease, yet bravely completing his task, was a + figure at once so pathetic and so noble that no breath of animosity + remained to utter a single word that was not kind. + </p> + <p> + Memorial services were held from one end of the country to the other. + Those who had followed him in peace or war, those who had fought beside + him or against him, alike paid tribute to his memory. Twichell, from the + mountains of Vermont, wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I suppose I have said to Harmony forty times since I got up here, + “How I wish I could see Mark!” My notion is that between us we could + get ourselves expressed. I have never known any one who could help + me read my own thoughts in such a case as you can and have done many + a time, dear old fellow. + + I'd give more to sit on a log with you in the woods this afternoon, + while we twined a wreath together for Launcelot's grave, than + to hear any conceivable eulogy of him pronounced by mortal lips. +</pre> + <p> + The death of Grant so largely and so suddenly augmented the orders for his + Memoirs that it seemed impossible to get the first volume printed in time + for the delivery, which had been promised for December 1st. J. J. Little + had the contract of manufacture, and every available press and bindery was + running double time to complete the vast contract. + </p> + <p> + In the end more than three hundred thousand sets of two volumes each were + sold, and between four hundred and twenty and four hundred and fifty + thousand dollars was paid to Mrs. Grant. The first check of two hundred + thousand dollars, drawn February 27, 1886, remains the largest single + royalty check in history. Mark Twain's prophecy had been almost exactly + verified. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0163" id="link2H_4_0163"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLVII. MINOR MATTERS OF A GREAT YEAR + </h2> + <p> + The Grant episode, so important in all its phases, naturally overshadowed + other events of 1885. Mark Twain was so deeply absorbed in this great + publishing enterprise that he wasted little thought or energy in other + directions. + </p> + <p> + Yet there are a few minor things that it seems worth while to remember. + Howells has told something of the Authors' Reading given for the + Longfellow Memorial, an entertainment managed by George Parsons Lathrop, + though Howells justly claims the glory of having fixed the price of + admission at five dollars. Then he recalls a pleasing anecdote of Charles + Eliot Norton, who introduced the attractions. + </p> + <p> + Norton presided, and when it came Clemens's turn to read he introduced him + with such exquisite praises as he best knew how to give, but before he + closed he fell a prey to one of those lapses of tact which are the + peculiar peril of people of the greatest tact. He was reminded of Darwin's + delight in Mark Twain, and how when he came from his long day's exhausting + study, and sank into bed at midnight, he took up a volume of Mark Twain, + whose books he always kept on a table beside him, and whatever had been + his tormenting problem, or excess of toil, he felt secure of a good + night's rest from it. A sort of blank ensued which Clemens filled in the + only possible way. He said he should always be glad he had contributed to + the repose of that great man, to whom science owed so much, and then + without waiting for the joy in every breast to burst forth, he began to + read. + </p> + <p> + Howells tells of Mark Twain's triumph on this occasion, and in a letter at + the time he wrote: “You simply straddled down to the footlights and + took that house up in the hollow of your hand and tickled it.” + </p> + <p> + Howells adds that the show netted seventeen hundred dollars. This was + early in May. + </p> + <p> + Of literary work, beyond the war paper, the “Private History of a + Campaign that Failed” (published December, 1885), Clemens appears to + have done very little. His thoughts were far too busy with plans for + furthering the sale of the great military Memoir to follow literary + ventures of his own. At one time he was impelled to dictate an + autobiography—Grant's difficulties in his dying hour suggesting this—and + he arranged with Redpath, who was no longer a lecture agent and understood + stenography, to co-operate with him in the work. He dictated a few + chapters, but he was otherwise too much occupied to continue. Also, he was + unused to dictation, and found it hard and the result unsatisfactory. + </p> + <p> + Two open communications from Mark Twain that year deserve to be + remembered. One of these; unsigned, was published in the Century Magazine, + and expressed the need for a “universal tinker,” the man who + can accept a job in a large household or in a community as master of all + trades, with sufficient knowledge of each to be ready to undertake + whatever repairs are likely to be required in the ordinary household, such + as—“to put in windowpanes, mend gas leaks, jack-plane the + edges of doors that won't shut, keep the waste-pipe and other water-pipe + joints, glue and otherwise repair havoc done in furniture, etc.” The + letter was signed X. Y. Z., and it brought replies from various parts of + the world. None of the applicants seemed universally qualified, but in + Kansas City a business was founded on the idea, adopting “The + Universal Tinker” as its firm name. + </p> + <p> + The other letter mentioned was written to the 'Christian Union', inspired + by a tale entitled, “What Ought We to Have Done?” It was a + tale concerning the government of children; especially concerning the + government of one child—John Junior—a child who, as it would + appear from the tale, had a habit of running things pretty much to his own + notion. The performance of John Junior, and of his parents in trying to + manage him, stirred Mark Twain considerably—it being “enough + to make a body's blood boil,” as he confesses—and it impelled + him to set down surreptitiously his impressions of what would have + happened to John Junior as a member of the Clemens household. He did not + dare to show the communication to Mrs. Clemens before he sent it, for he + knew pretty well what its fate would be in that case. So he took chances + and printed it without her knowledge. The letter was published July 16, + 1885. It is too long to be included entire, but it is too illuminating to + be altogether omitted. After relating, in considerable detail, Mrs. + Clemens's method of dealing with an unruly child—the gentleness yet + firmness of her discipline—he concludes: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The mother of my children adores them—there is no milder term for + it—and they worship her; they even worship anything which the touch + of her hand has made sacred. They know her for the best and truest + friend they have ever had, or ever shall have; they know her for one + who never did them a wrong, and cannot do them a wrong; who never + told them a lie, nor the shadow of one; who never deceived them by + even an ambiguous gesture; who never gave them an unreasonable + command, nor ever contented herself with anything short of a perfect + obedience; who has always treated them as politely and considerately + as she would the best and oldest in the land, and has always + required of them gentle speech and courteous conduct toward all, of + whatsoever degree with whom they chanced to come in contact; they + know her for one whose promise, whether of reward or punishment, is + gold, and always worth its face, to the uttermost farthing. In a + word, they know her, and I know her, for the best and dearest mother + that lives—and by a long, long way the wisest.... + + In all my life I have never made a single reference to my wife in + print before, as far as I can remember, except once in the + dedication of a book; and so, after these fifteen years of silence, + perhaps I may unseal my lips this one time without impropriety or + indelicacy. I will institute one other novelty: I will send this + manuscript to the press without her knowledge and without asking her + to edit it. This will save it from getting edited into the stove. +</pre> + <p> + Susy's biography refers to this incident at considerable length. She + states that her father had misgivings after he had sent it to the + Christian Union, and that he tried to recall the manuscript, but found it + too late. She sets down some comments of her own on her mother's + government, then tells us of the appearance of the article: + </p> + <p> + When the Christian Union reached the farm and papa's article in it, all + ready and waiting to be read to mama, papa hadn't the courage to show it + to her (for he knew she wouldn't like it at all) at first, and he didn't, + but he might have let it go and never let her see it; but finally he gave + his consent to her seeing it, and told Clara and I we could take it to + her, which we did with tardiness, and we all stood around mama while she + read it, all wondering what she would say and think about it. + </p> + <p> + She was too much surprised (and pleased privately too) to say much at + first; but, as we all expected, publicly (or rather when she remembered + that this article was to be read by every one that took the Christian + Union) she was rather shocked and a little displeased. + </p> + <p> + Susy goes on to tell that the article provoked a number of letters, most + of them pleasant ones, but some of them of quite another sort. One of the + latter fell into her mother's hands, after which there was general regret + that the article had been printed, and the subject was no longer discussed + at Quarry Farm. + </p> + <p> + Susy's biography is a unique record. It was a sort of combined memoir and + journal, charming in its innocent frankness and childish insight. She used + to keep it under her pillow, and after she was asleep the parents would + steal it out and find a tender amusement and pathos in its quaint entries. + It is a faithful record so far as it goes, and the period it covers is an + important one; for it presents a picture of Mark Twain in the fullness of + his manhood, in the golden hour of his fortune. Susy's beginning has a + special value here:—[Susy's' spelling and punctuation are + preserved.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We are a very happy family! We consist of papa, mama, Jean, Clara + and me. It is papa I am writing about, and I shall have no trouble + in not knowing what to say about him, as he is a very striking + character. Papa's appearance has been described many times, but + very incorrectly; he has beautiful curly grey hair, not any too + thick, or any too long, just right; a Roman nose, which greatly + improves the beauty of his features, kind blue eyes, and a small + mustache, he has a wonderfully shaped head, and profile, he has a + very good figure in short he is an extraordinarily fine looking man. + All his features are perfect, except that he hasn't extraordinary + teeth. His complexion is very fair, and he doesn't ware a beard: + + He is a very good man, and a very funny one; he has got a temper but + we all of us have in this family. He is the loveliest man I ever + saw, or ever hope to see, and oh so absent-minded! +</pre> + <p> + That this is a fair statement of the Clemens home, and the truest picture + of Mark Twain at fifty that has been preserved, cannot be doubted. His + hair was iron-gray, not entirely white at this time, the auburn tints + everywhere mingled with the shining white that later would mantle it like + a silver crown. He did not look young for his years, but he was still + young, always young—indestructibly young in spirit and bodily vigor. + Susy tells how that summer he blew soap-bubbles for the children, filling + the bubbles with tobacco smoke; how he would play with the cats, and come + clear down from his study on the hill to see how “Sour Mash,” + then a kitten, was getting along; also how he wrote a poem for Jean's + donkey, Cadichon (which they made Kiditchin): She quotes the poem: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + KIDITCHIN + + O du lieb' Kiditchin + Du bist ganz bewitchin, + Waw- - - -he! + + In summer days Kiditchin + Thou'rt dear from nose to britchin + Waw——he! + + No dought thoult get a switchin + When for mischief thou'rt itchin' + Waw- - - -he! + + But when you're good Kiditchin + You shall feast in James's kitchin + Waw- - - -he! + + O now lift up thy song + Thy noble note prolong + Thou living Chinese gong! + Waw—-he! waw—-he waw + Sweetest donkey man ever saw. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens undertook to ride Kiditchin one day, to show the children how it + should be done, but Kiditchin resented this interference and promptly + flung him over her head. He thought she might have been listening to the + poem he had written of her. + </p> + <p> + Susy's discovery that the secret of her biography was known is shown by + the next entry, and the touch of severity in it was probably not entirely + unconscious: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Papa said the other day, “I am a mugwump and a mugwump is pure from + the marrow out.” (Papa knows that I am writing this biography of + him, and he said this for it.) He doesn't like to go to church at + all, why I never understood, until just now. He told us the other + day that he couldn't bear to hear anyone talk but himself, but that + he could listen to himself talk for hours without getting tired, of + course he said this in joke, but I've no doubt it was founded on + truth. +</pre> + <p> + Susy's picture of life at Quarry Farm at this period is realistic and + valuable—too valuable to be spared from this biography: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There are eleven cats at the farm here now. Papa's favorite is a + little tortoise-shell kitten he has named “Sour Mash,” and a little + spotted one “Fannie.” It is very pretty to see what papa calls the + cat procession; it was formed in this way. Old Minniecat headed, + (the mother of all the cats) next to her came aunt Susie, then Clara + on the donkey, accompanied by a pile of cats, then papa and Jean + hand in hand and a pile of cats brought up in the rear, mama and I + made up the audience. + + Our varius occupations are as follows. Papa rises about 1/2 past 7 + in the morning, breakfasts at eight, writes, plays tennis with Clara + and me and tries to make the donkey go, in the morning; does varius + things in P.M., and in the evening plays tennis with Clara and me + and amuses Jean and the donkey. + + Mama rises about 1/4 to eight, breakfasts at eight, teaches Jean + German reading from 9-10; reads German with me from 10-11. Then she + reads studdies or visits with aunt Susie for a while, and then she + reads to Clara and I till lunch time things connected with English + history (for we hope to go to England next summer) while we sew. + Then we have lunch. She studdies for about half an hour or visits + with aunt Susie, then reads to us an hour or more, then studdies + writes reads and rests till supper time. After supper she sits out + on the porch and works till eight o'clock, from eight o'clock to + bedtime she plays whist with papa and after she has retired she + reads and studdies German for a while. + + Clara and I do most everything from practicing to donkey riding and + playing tag. While Jean's time is spent in asking mama what she can + have to eat. +</pre> + <p> + It is impossible, at this distance, to convey all that the farm meant to + the children during the summers of their infancy and childhood and + girlhood which they spent there. It was the paradise, the dreamland they + looked forward to during all the rest of the year. Through the long, happy + months there they grew strong and brown, and drank deeply of the joy of + life. Their cousins Julia, Jervis, and Ida Langdon ranged about their own + ages and were almost their daily companions. Their games were mainly of + the out-of-doors; the woods and meadows and hillside pastures were their + playground. Susy was thirteen when she began her diary; a gentle, + thoughtful, romantic child. One afternoon she discovered a wonderful + tangle of vines and bushes between the study and the sunset—a rare + hiding-place. She ran breathlessly to her aunt: + </p> + <p> + “Can I have it? Can Clara and I have it all for our own?” + </p> + <p> + The petition was granted, of course, and the place was named Helen's + Bower, for they were reading Thaddeus of Warsaw and the name appealed to + Susy's poetic fancy. Then Mrs. Clemens conceived the idea of building a + house for the children just beyond the bower. It was a complete little + cottage when finished, with a porch and with furnishings contributed by + friends and members of the family. There was a stove—a tiny affair, + but practical—dishes, table, chairs, shelves, and a broom. The + little house was named Ellerslie, out of Grace Aguilar's Days of Robert + Bruce, and became one of the children's most beloved possessions. But alas + for Helen's Bower! A workman was sent to clear away the debris after the + builders, and being a practical man, he cut away Helen's Bower—destroyed + it utterly. Susy first discovered the vandalism, and came rushing to the + house in a torrent of sorrow. For her the joy of life seemed ended, and it + was long before she could be comforted. But Ellerslie in time satisfied + her hunger for retreat, became, in fact, the nucleus around which the + children's summer happiness centered. + </p> + <p> + To their elders the farm remained always the quiet haven. Once to Orion's + wife Clemens wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + This is a superb Sunday.... + + The city in the valley is purple with shade, as seen from up here at + the study. The Cranes are reading and loafing in the canvas- + curtained summer-house, fifty yards away, on a higher (the highest) + point; the cats are loafing over at Ellerslie, which is the + children's estate and dwelling house in their own private grounds + (by deed from Susie Crane), a hundred yards from the study, among + the clover and young oaks and willows. Livy is down at the house, + but I shall now go and bring her up to the Cranes to help us occupy + the lounges and hammocks, whence a great panorama of distant hills + and valley and city is seeable. The children have gone on a lark + through the neighboring hills and woods, Susie and Clara horseback + and Jean, driving a buggy, with the coachman for comrade and + assistant at need. It is a perfect day indeed. +</pre> + <p> + The ending of each year's summer brought only regret. Clemens would never + take away all his things. He had an old superstition that to leave some + article insured return. Mrs. Clemens also left something—her heart's + content. The children went around bidding various objects good-by and + kissed the gates of Ellerslie too. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0164" id="link2H_4_0164"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLVIII. MARK TWAIN AT FIFTY + </h2> + <p> + Mark Twain's fiftieth birthday was one of the pleasantly observed events + of that year. There was no special celebration, but friends sent kindly + messages, and The Critic, then conducted by Jeannette and Joseph Gilder, + made a feature of it. Miss Gilder wrote to Oliver Wendell Holmes and + invited some verses, which with his never-failing kindliness he sent, + though in his accompanying note he said: + </p> + <p> + “I had twenty-three letters spread out on my table for answering, + all marked immediate, when your note came.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Holmes's stanzas are full of his gentle spirit: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + TO MARK TWAIN + + (On his fiftieth birthday) + + Ah, Clemens, when I saw thee last, + We both of us were younger; + How fondly mumbling o'er the past + Is Memory's toothless hunger! + + So fifty years have fled, they say, + Since first you took to drinking; + I mean in Nature's milky way + Of course no ill I'm thinking. + + But while on life's uneven road + Your track you've been pursuing, + What fountains from your wit have flowed + What drinks you have been brewing! + + I know whence all your magic came, + Your secret I've discovered, + The source that fed your inward flame, + The dreams that round you hovered. + + Before you learned to bite or munch, + Still kicking in your cradle, + The Muses mixed a bowl of punch + And Hebe seized the ladle. + + Dear babe, whose fiftieth year to-day + Your ripe half-century rounded, + Your books the precious draught betray + The laughing Nine compounded. + + So mixed the sweet, the sharp, the strong, + Each finds its faults amended, + The virtues that to each belong + In happiest union blended. + + And what the flavor can surpass + Of sugar, spirit, lemons? + So while one health fills every glass + Mark Twain for Baby Clemens! + + OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. +</pre> + <p> + Frank R. Stockton, Charles Dudley Warner, and Joel Chandler Harris sent + pleasing letters. Warner said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + You may think it an easy thing to be fifty years old, but you will + find it's not so easy to stay there, and your next fifty years will + slip away much faster than those just accomplished. +</pre> + <p> + Many wrote letters privately, of course, and Andrew Lang, like Holmes, + sent a poem that has a special charm. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FOR MARK TWAIN + + To brave Mark Twain, across the sea, + The years have brought his jubilee. + One hears it, half in pain, + That fifty years have passed and gone + Since danced the merry star that shone + Above the babe Mark Twain. + + We turn his pages and we see + The Mississippi flowing free; + We turn again and grin + O'er all Tom Sawyer did and planned + With him of the ensanguined hand, + With Huckleberry Finn! + + Spirit of Mirth, whose chime of bells + Shakes on his cap, and sweetly swells + Across the Atlantic main, + Grant that Mark's laughter never die, + That men through many a century + May chuckle o'er Mark Twain! +</pre> + <p> + Assuredly Mark Twain was made happy by these attentions; to Dr. Holmes he + wrote: + </p> + <p> + DEAR DR. HOLMES,—I shall never be able to tell you the half of how + proud you have made me. If I could you would say you were nearly paid for + the trouble you took. And then the family: If I could convey the + electrical surprise and gratitude and exaltation of the wife and the + children last night, when they happened upon that Critic where I had, with + artful artlessness, spread it open and retired out of view to see what + would happen—well, it was great and fine and beautiful to see, and + made me feel as the victor feels when the shouting hosts march by: and if + you also could have seen it you would have said the account was squared. + For I have brought them up in your company, as in the company of a warm + and friendly and beneficent but far-distant sun; and so, for you to do + this thing was for the sun to send down out of the skies the miracle of a + special ray and transfigure me before their faces. I knew what that poem + would be to them; I knew it would raise me up to remote and shining + heights in their eyes, to very fellowship with the chambered Nautilus + itself, and that from that fellowship they could never more dissociate me + while they should live; and so I made sure to be by when the surprise + should come. + </p> + <p> + Charles Dudley Warner is charmed with the poem for its own felicitous + sake; and so indeed am I, but more because it has drawn the sting of my + fiftieth year; taken away the pain of it, the grief of it, the somehow + shame of it, and made me glad and proud it happened. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + With reverence and affection, + Sincerely yours, + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> + <p> + So Samuel Clemens had reached the half-century mark; reached it in what + seemed the fullness of success from every viewpoint. If he was not yet the + foremost American man of letters, he was at least the most widely known—he + sat upon the highest mountain-top. Furthermore, it seemed to him that + fortune was showering her gifts into his lap. His unfortunate investments + were now only as the necessary experiments that had led him to larger + successes. As a publisher, he was already the most conspicuous in the + world, and he contemplated still larger ventures: a type-setting machine + patent, in which he had invested, and now largely controlled, he regarded + as the chief invention of the age, absolutely certain to yield + incalculable wealth. His connection with the Grant family had associated + him with an enterprise looking to the building of a railway from + Constantinople to the Persian Gulf. Charles A. Dana, of the Sun, had put + him in the way of obtaining for publication the life of the Pope, Leo + XIII, officially authorized by the Pope himself, and this he regarded as a + certain fortune. + </p> + <p> + Now that the tide had turned he felt no hesitancy in reckoning a fortune + from almost any venture. The Grant book, even on the liberal terms allowed + to the author, would yield a net profit of one hundred and fifty thousand + dollars to its publishers. Huck Finn would yield fifty thousand dollars + more. The sales of his other books had considerably increased. Certainly, + at fifty, Mark Twain's fortunes were at flood-tide; buoyant and jubilant, + he was floating on the topmost wave. If there were undercurrents and + undertow they were down somewhere out of sight. If there were breakers + ahead, they were too far distant to be heard. So sure was he of the + triumphant consummation of every venture that to a friend at his home one + night he said: + </p> + <p> + “I am frightened at the proportions of my prosperity. It seems to me + that whatever I touch turns to gold.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0165" id="link2H_4_0165"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLIX. THE LIFE OF THE POPE + </h2> + <p> + As Mark Twain in the earlier days of his marriage had temporarily put + aside authorship to join in a newspaper venture, so now again literature + had dropped into the background, had become an avocation, while financial + interests prevailed. There were two chief ventures—the business of + Charles L. Webster & Co. and the promotion of the Paige type-setting + machine. They were closely identified in fortunes, so closely that in time + the very existence of each depended upon the success of the other; yet + they were quite distinct, and must be so treated in this story. + </p> + <p> + The success of the Grant Life had given the Webster business an immense + prestige. It was no longer necessary to seek desirable features for + publication. They came uninvited. Other war generals preparing their + memoirs naturally hoped to appear with their great commander. McClellan's + Own Story was arranged for without difficulty. A Genesis of the Civil War, + by Gen. Samuel Wylie Crawford, was offered and accepted. General + Sheridan's Memoirs were in preparation, and negotiations with Webster + & Co. for their appearance were not delayed. Probably neither Webster + nor Clemens believed that the sale of any of these books would approach + those of the Grant Life, but they expected them to be large, for the Grant + book had stimulated the public taste for war literature, and anything + bearing the stamp of personal battle experience was considered literary + legal-tender. + </p> + <p> + Moreover, these features, and even the Grant book itself, seemed likely to + dwindle in importance by the side of The Life of Pope Leo XIII., who in + his old and enfeebled age had consented to the preparation of a memoir, to + be published with his sanction and blessing.—[By Bernard O'Reilly, + D.D., LL.D. “Written with the Encouragement, Approbation, and + Blessings of His Holiness the Pope.”]—Clemens and Webster—every + one, in fact, who heard of the project—united in the belief that no + book, with the exception of the Holy Scripture itself or the Koran, would + have a wider acceptance than the biography of the Pope. It was agreed by + good judges—and they included Howells and Twichell and even the + shrewd general agents throughout the country—that every good + Catholic would regard such a book not only as desirable, but as absolutely + necessary to his salvation. Howells, recalling Clemens's emotions of this + time, writes: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He had no words in which to paint the magnificence of the project or + to forecast its colossal success. It would have a currency bounded + only by the number of Catholics in Christendom. It would be + translated into every language which was anywhere written or + printed; it would be circulated literally in every country of the + globe. +</pre> + <p> + The formal contract for this great undertaking was signed in Rome in + April, 1886, and Webster immediately prepared to go over to consult with + his Holiness in person as to certain details, also, no doubt, for the + newspaper advertising which must result from such an interview. + </p> + <p> + It was decided to carry a handsome present to the Pope in the form of a + specially made edition of the Grant Memoirs in a rich-casket, and it was + Clemens's idea that the binding of the book should be solid gold—this + to be done by Tiffany at an estimated cost of about three thousand + dollars. In the end, however, the binding was not gold, but the handsomest + that could be designed of less precious and more appropriate materials. + </p> + <p> + Webster sailed toward the end of June, and was warmly received and highly + honored in Rome. The great figures of the Grant success had astonished + Europe even more than America, where spectacular achievements were more + common. That any single publication should pay a profit to author and + publisher of six hundred thousand dollars was a thing which belonged with + the wonders of Aladdin's garden. It was natural, therefore, that Webster, + who had rubbed the magic lamp with this result, who was Mark Twain's + partner, and who had now traveled across the seas to confer with the Pope + himself, should be received with royal honors. In letters written at the + time, Webster relates how he found it necessary to have an imposing + carriage and a footman to maintain the dignity of his mission, and how, + after various impressive formalities, he was granted a private audience, a + very special honor indeed. Webster's letter gives us a picture of his + Holiness which is worth preserving. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We—[Mrs. Webster, who, the reader will remember, was Annie Moffett, + a daughter of Pamela Clemens, was included in the invitation to the + Presence Chamber.]—found ourselves in a room perhaps twenty-five by + thirty-five feet; the furniture was gilt, upholstered in light-red + silk, and the side-walls were hung with the same material. Against + the wall by which we entered and in the middle space was a large + gilt throne chair, upholstered in red plush, and upon it sat a man + bowed with age; his hair was silvery white and as pure as the driven + snow. His head was partly covered with a white skullcap; he was + dressed in a long white cassock which reached to his feet, which + rested upon a red-plush cushion and were inclosed in red embroidered + slippers with a design of a cross. A golden chain was about his + neck and suspended by it in his lap was a gold cross set in precious + stones. Upon a finger of his right hand was a gold ring with an + emerald setting nearly an inch in diameter. His countenance was + smiling, and beamed with benevolence. His face at once impressed us + as that of a noble, pure man who could not do otherwise than good. + + This was the Pope of Rome, and as we advanced, making the three + genuflexions prescribed by etiquette, he smiled benignly upon us. + We advanced and, kneeling at his feet, kissed the seal upon his + ring. He took us each by the hand repeatedly during the audience + and made us perfectly at our ease. +</pre> + <p> + They remained as much as half an hour in the Presence; and the Pope + conversed on a variety of subjects, including the business failure of + General Grant, his last hours, and the great success of his book. The + figures seemed to him hardly credible, and when Webster assured him that + already a guaranteed sale of one hundred thousand copies of his own + biography had been pledged by the agents he seemed even more astonished. + “We in Italy cannot comprehend such things,” he said. “I + know you do great work in America; I know you have done a great and noble + work in regard to General Grant's book, but that my Life should have such + a sale seems impossible.” + </p> + <p> + He asked about their home, their children, and was in every way the + kindly, gentle-hearted man that his pictured face has shown him. Then he + gave them his final blessing and the audience closed. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We each again kissed the seal on his ring. As Annie was about to + kiss it he suddenly withdrew his hand and said, “And will you, a + little Protestant, kiss the Pope's ring?” As he said this, his face + was all smiles, and mischief was clearly delineated upon it. He + immediately put back his hand and she kissed the ring. We now + withdrew, backing out and making three genuflexions as before. Just + as we reached the door he called to Dr. O'Reilly, “Now don't praise + me too much; tell the truth, tell the truth.” + </pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0166" id="link2H_4_0166"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLX. A GREAT PUBLISHER AT HOME + </h2> + <p> + Men are likely to be spoiled by prosperity, to be made arrogant, even + harsh. Success made Samuel Clemens merely elate, more kindly, more humanly + generous. Every day almost he wrote to Webster, suggesting some new book + or venture, but always considerately, always deferring to suggestions from + other points of view. Once, when it seemed to him that matters were not + going as well as usual, a visit from Webster showed him that it was + because of his own continued absence from the business that he did not + understand. Whereupon he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR CHARLEY,—Good—it's all good news. Everything is on the + pleasantest possible basis now, and is going to stay so. I blame + myself in not looking in on you oftener in the past—that would have + prevented all trouble. I mean to stand to my duty better now. +</pre> + <p> + At another time, realizing the press of responsibility, and that Webster + was not entirely well, he sent a warning from Mrs. Clemens against + overwork. He added: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Your letter shows that you need such a warning. So I warn you + myself to look after that. Overwork killed Mr. Langdon and it can + kill you. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens found his own cares greatly multiplied. His connection with the + firm was widely known, and many authors sent him their manuscripts or + wrote him personal letters concerning them. Furthermore, he was beset by + all the cranks and beggars in Christendom. His affairs became so numerous + at length that he employed a business agent, F. G. Whitmore, to relieve + him of a part of his burden. Whitmore lived close by, and was a good + billiard-player. Almost anything from the morning mail served as an excuse + to send for Whitmore. + </p> + <p> + Clemens was fond of affairs when they were going well; he liked the game + of business, especially when it was pretentious and showily prosperous. It + is probable that he was never more satisfied with his share of fortune + than just at this time. Certainly his home life was never happier. Katie + Leary, for thirty years in the family service, has set down some + impressions of that pleasant period. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mr. Clemens was a very affectionate father. He seldom left the + house at night, but would read to the family, first to the children + until bedtime, afterward to Mrs. Clemens. He usually read Browning + to her. They were very fond of it. The children played charades a + great deal, and he was wonderful at that game and always helped + them. They were very fond of private theatricals. Every Saturday + of their lives they had a temporary stage put up in the school-room + and we all had to help. Gerhardt painted the scenery. They + frequently played the balcony scene from “Romeo and Juliet” and + several plays they wrote themselves. Now and then we had a big + general performance of “The Prince and the Pauper.” That would be + in the library and the dining-room with the folding-doors open. The + place just held eighty-four chairs, and the stage was placed back + against the conservatory. The children were crazy about acting and + we all enjoyed it as much as they did, especially Mr. Clemens, who + was the best actor of all. I had a part, too, and George. I have + never known a happier household than theirs was during those years. + + Mr. Clemens spent most of his time up in the billiard-room, writing + or playing billiards. One day when I went in, and he was shooting + the balls around the tables, I noticed smoke coming up from the + hearth. I called Patrick, and John O'Neill, the gardener, and we + began taking up the hearth to see what was the matter. Mr. Clemens + kept on playing billiards right along and paid no attention to what + we were doing. Finally, when we got the hearth up, a lot of flame + and smoke came out into the room. The house was on fire. Mr. + Clemens noticed then what we were about, and went over to the corner + where there were some bottle fire-extinguishers. He took one down + and threw it into the flames. This put them out a good deal, and he + took up his cue, went back to the table, and began to shoot the + balls around again as if nothing had happened. Mrs. Clemens came in + just then and said, “Why, the house is afire!” + + “Yes, I know it,” he said, but went on playing. + + We had a telephone and it didn't work very well. It annoyed him a + good deal and sometimes he'd say: + + “I'll tear it out.” + + One day he tried to call up Mrs. Dr. Tafft. He could not hear + plainly and thought he was talking to central. “Send down and take + this d—-thing out of here,” he said; “I'm tired of it.” He was + mad, and using a good deal of bad language. All at once he heard + Mrs. Dr. Tafft say, “Oh, Mr. Clemens, good morning.” He said, “Why, + Mrs. Tafft, I have just come to the telephone. George, our butler, + was here before me and I heard him swearing as I came up. I shall + have to talk to him about it.” + + Mrs. Tafft often told it on him.—[ Mark Twain once wrote to the + telephone management: “The time is coming very soon when the + telephone will be a perfect instrument, when proximity will no + longer be a hindrance to its performance, when, in fact, one will + hear a man who is in the next block just as easily and comfortably + as he would if that man were in San Francisco.”] + Mrs. Clemens, before I went there, took care of his desk, but little + by little I began to look after it when she was busy at other + things. Finally I took care of it altogether, but he didn't know it + for a long time. One morning he caught me at it. “What are you + doing here?” he asked. + + “Dusting, Mr. Clemens,” I said. + + “You have no business here,” he said, very mad. + + “I've been doing it for a year, Mr. Clemens,” I said. “Mrs. Clemens + told me to do it.” + + After that, when he missed anything—and he missed things often—he + would ring for me. “Katie,” he would say, “you have lost that + manuscript.” + + “Oh, Mr. Clemens,”, I would say, “I am sure I didn't touch it.” + + “Yes, you did touch it, Katie. You put it in the fire. It is + gone.” + + He would scold then, and fume a great deal. Then he would go over + and mark out with his toe on the carpet a line which I was never to + cross. “Katie,” he would say, “you are never to go nearer to my + desk than that line. That is the dead-line.” Often after he had + scolded me in the morning he would come in in the evening where I + was dressing Mrs. Clemens to go out and say, “Katie, I found that + manuscript.” And I would say, “Mr. Clemens, I felt so bad this + morning that I wanted to go away.” + + He had a pipe-cleaner which he kept on a high shelf. It was an + awful old dirty one, and I didn't know that he ever used it. I took + it to the balcony which was built out into the woods and threw it + away as far as I could throw it. Next day he asked, “Katie, did you + see my pipe-cleaner? You did see it; I can tell by your looks.” + + I said, “Yes, Mr. Clemens, I threw it away.” + + “Well,” he said, “it was worth a thousand dollars,” and it seemed so + to me, too, before he got done scolding about it. +</pre> + <p> + It is hard not to dwell too long on the home life of this period. One + would like to make a long chapter out of those play-acting evenings alone. + They remained always fresh in Mark Twain's memory. Once he wrote of them: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We dined as we could, probably with a neighbor, and by quarter to + eight in the evening the hickory fire in the hall was pouring a + sheet of flame up the chimney, the house was in a drench of gas- + light from the ground floor up, the guests were arriving, and there + was a babble of hearty greetings, with not a voice in it that was + not old and familiar and affectionate; and when the curtain went up + we looked out from the stage upon none but faces that were dear to + us, none but faces that were lit up with welcome for us. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0167" id="link2H_4_0167"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLXI. HISTORY: MAINLY BY SUSY + </h2> + <h3> + Suzy, in her biography, which she continued through this period, writes: + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mama and I have both been very much troubled of late because papa, + since he had been publishing General Grant's books, has seemed to + forget his own books and works entirely; and the other evening, as + papa and I were promonading up and down the library, he told me that + he didn't expect to write but one more book, and then he was ready + to give up work altogether, die, or, do anything; he said that he + had written more than he had ever expected to, and the only book + that he had been pertickularly anxious to write was one locked up in + the safe downstairs, not yet published. +</pre> + <p> + The book locked in the safe was Captain Stormfield, and the one he + expected to write was A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court. He had + already worked at it in a desultory way during the early months of 1886, + and once wrote of it to Webster: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have begun a book whose scene is laid far back in the twilight of + tradition; I have saturated myself with the atmosphere of the day + and the subject and got myself into the swing of the work. If I peg + away for some weeks without a break I am safe. +</pre> + <p> + But he could not peg away. He had too many irons in the fire for that. + Matthew Arnold had criticized General Grant's English, and Clemens + immediately put down other things to rush to his hero's defense. He + pointed out that in Arnold's criticism there were no less than “two + grammatical crimes and more than several examples of very crude and + slovenly English,” and said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There is that about the sun which makes us forget his spots, and + when we think of General Grant our pulses quicken and his grammar + vanishes; we only remember that this is the simple soldier, who, all + untaught of the silken phrase-makers, linked words together with an + art surpassing the art of the schools, and put into them a something + which will still bring to American ears, as long as America shall + last, the roll of his vanished drums and the tread of his marching + hosts.—[Address to Army and Navy Club. For full text see + Appendix] +</pre> + <p> + Clemens worked at the Yankee now and then, and Howells, when some of the + chapters were read to him, gave it warm approval and urged its + continuance. + </p> + <p> + Howells was often in Hartford at this time. Webster & Co. were + planning to publish The Library of Humor, which Howells and “Charley” + Clark had edited several years before, and occasional conferences were + desirable. Howells tells us that, after he and Clark had been at great + trouble to get the matter logically and chronologically arranged, Clemens + pulled it all to pieces and threw it together helter-skelter, declaring + that there ought to be no sequence in a book of that sort, any more than + in the average reader's mind; and Howells admits that this was probably + the truer method in a book made for the diversion rather than the + instruction of the reader. + </p> + <p> + One of the literary diversions of this time was a commentary on a + delicious little book by Caroline B. Le Row—English as She Is Taught—being + a compilation of genuine answers given to examination questions by pupils + in our public schools. Mark Twain was amused by such definitions as: + “Aborigines, system of mountains”; “Alias—a good + man in the Bible”; “Ammonia—the food of the gods,” + and so on down the alphabet. + </p> + <p> + Susy, in her biography, mentions that her father at this time read to them + a little article which he had just written, entitled “Luck,” + and that they thought it very good. It was a story which Twichell had + heard and told to Clemens, who set it down about as it came to him. It was + supposed to be true, yet Clemens seemed to think it too improbable for + literature and laid it away for a number of years. We shall hear of it + again by and by. + </p> + <p> + From Susy's memoranda we gather that humanity at this time was to be + healed of all evils and sorrows through “mind cure.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Papa has been very much interested of late in the “mind-cure” + theory. And, in fact, so have we all. A young lady in town has + worked wonders by using the “mind cure” upon people; she is + constantly busy now curing peoples' diseases in this way—and curing + her own, even, which to me seems the most remarkable of all. + + A little while past papa was delighted with the knowledge of what he + thought the best way of curing a cold, which was by starving it. + This starving did work beautifully, and freed him from a great many + severe colds. Now he says it wasn't the starving that helped his + colds, but the trust in the starving, the “mind cure” connected with + the starving. + + I shouldn't wonder if we finally became firm believers in “mind + cure.” The next time papa has a cold I haven't a doubt he will send + for Miss Holden, the young lady who is doctoring in the “mind-cure” + theory, to cure him of it. +</pre> + <p> + Again, a month later, she writes: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + April 19, 1886. Yes, the “mind cure” does seem to be working + wonderfully. Papa, who has been using glasses now for more than a + year, has laid them off entirely. And my near-sightedness is really + getting better. It seems marvelous. When Jean has stomack-ache + Clara and I have tried to divert her by telling her to lie on her + side and try “mind cure.” The novelty of it has made her willing to + try it, and then Clara and I would exclaim about how wonderful it + was she was getting better. And she would think it realy was + finally, and stop crying, to our delight. + + The other day mama went into the library and found her lying on the + sofa with her back toward the door. She said, “Why, Jean, what's + the matter? Don't you feel well?” Jean said that she had a little + stomack-ache, and so thought she would lie down. Mama said, “Why + don't you try 'mind cure'?” “I am,” Jean answered. +</pre> + <p> + Howells and Twichell were invited to try the “mind cure,” as + were all other friends who happened along. To the end of his days Clemens + would always have some panacea to offer to allay human distress. It was a + good trait, when all is said, for it had its root in his humanity. The + “mind cure” did not provide all the substance of things hoped + for, though he always allowed for it a wide efficacy. Once, in later + years, commenting on Susy's record, he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The mind cannot heal broken bones, and doubtless there are many + other physical ills which it cannot heal, but it can greatly help to + modify the severities of all of them without exception, and there + are mental and nervous ailments which it can wholly heal without the + help of physician or surgeon. +</pre> + <p> + Susy records another burning interest of this time: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Clara sprained her ankle a little while ago by running into a tree + when coasting, and while she was unable to walk with it she played + solotaire with cards a great deal. While Clara was sick and papa + saw her play solotaire so much he got very much interested in the + game, and finally began to play it himself a little; then Jean took + it up, and at last mama even played it occasionally; Jean's and + papa's love for it rapidly increased, and now Jean brings the cards + every night to the table and papa and mama help her play, and before + dinner is at an end papa has gotten a separate pack of cards and is + playing alone, with great interest. Mama and Clara next are made + subject to the contagious solotaire, and there are four + solotarireans at the table, while you hear nothing but “Fill up the + place,” etc. It is dreadful! +</pre> + <p> + But a little further along Susy presents her chief subject more seriously. + He is not altogether absorbed with “mind cure” and solitaire, + or even with making humorous tales. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Papa has done a great deal in his life I think that is good and very + remarkable, but I think if he had had the advantages with which he + could have developed the gifts which he has made no use of in + writing his books, or in any other way, for peoples' pleasure and + benefit outside of his own family and intimate friends, he could + have done more than he has, and a great deal more, even. He is + known to the public as a humorist, but he has much more in him that + is earnest than that is humorous. He has a keen sense of the + ludicrous, notices funny stories and incidents, knows how to tell + them, to improve upon them, and does not forget them. +</pre> + <p> + And again: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When we are all alone at home nine times out of ten he talks about + some very earnest subject (with an occasional joke thrown in), and + he a good deal more often talks upon such subjects than upon the + other kind. + + He is as much of a philosopher as anything, I think. I think he + could have done a great deal in this direction if he had studied + while young, for he seems to enjoy reasoning out things, no matter + what; in a great many such directions he has greater ability than in + the gifts which have made him famous. +</pre> + <p> + It was with the keen eyes and just mind of childhood that Susy estimated, + and there is little to add to her valuation. + </p> + <p> + Susy's biography came to an end that summer after starting to record a + visit which they all made to Keokuk to see Grandma Clemens. They went by + way of the Lakes and down the Mississippi from St. Paul. A pleasant + incident happened that first evening on the river. Soon after nightfall + they entered a shoal crossing. Clemens, standing alone on the + hurricane-deck, heard the big bell forward boom out the call for leads. + Then came the leadsman's long-drawn chant, once so familiar, the + monotonous repeating in river parlance of the depths of water. Presently + the lead had found that depth of water signified by his nom de plume and + the call of “Mark Twain, Mark Twain” floated up to him like a + summons from the past. All at once a little figure came running down the + deck, and Clara confronted him, reprovingly: + </p> + <p> + “Papa,” she said, “I have hunted all over the boat for + you. Don't you know they are calling for you?” + </p> + <p> + They remained in Keokuk a week, and Susy starts to tell something of their + visit there. She begins: + </p> + <p> + “We have arrived in Keokuk after a very pleasant——” + </p> + <p> + The sentence remains unfinished. We cannot know what was the interruption + or what new interest kept her from her task. We can only regret that the + loving little hand did not continue its pleasant history. Years later, + when Susy had passed from among the things we know, her father, + commenting, said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When I look at the arrested sentence that ends the little book it + seems as if the hand that traced it cannot be far—it is gone for a + moment only, and will come again and finish it. But that is a + dream; a creature of the heart, not of the mind—a feeling, a + longing, not a mental product; the same that lured Aaron Burr, old, + gray, forlorn, forsaken, to the pier day after day, week after week, + there to stand in the gloom and the chill of the dawn, gazing + seaward through veiling mists and sleet and snow for the ship which + he knew was gone down, the ship that bore all his treasure—his + daughter. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0168" id="link2H_4_0168"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VOLUME II, Part 2: 1886-1900 + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0169" id="link2H_4_0169"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLXII. BROWNING, MEREDITH, AND MEISTERSCHAFT + </h2> + <p> + The Browning readings must have begun about this time. Just what kindled + Mark Twain's interest in the poetry of Robert Browning is not remembered, + but very likely his earlier associations with the poet had something to do + with it. Whatever the beginning, we find him, during the winter of 1886 + and 1887, studiously, even violently, interested in Browning's verses, + entertaining a sort of club or class who gathered to hear his rich, + sympathetic, and luminous reading of the Payleyings—“With + Bernard de Mandeville,” “Daniel Bartoli,” or “Christopher + Smart.” Members of the Saturday Morning Club were among his + listeners and others-friends of the family. They were rather remarkable + gatherings, and no one of that group but always vividly remembered the + marvelously clear insight which Mark Twain's vocal personality gave to + those somewhat obscure measures. They did not all of them realize that + before reading a poem he studied it line by line, even word by word; dug + out its last syllable of meaning, so far as lay within human possibility, + and indicated with pencil every shade of emphasis which would help to + reveal the poet's purpose. No student of Browning ever more devoutly + persisted in trying to compass a master's intent—in such poems as + “Sordello,” for instance—than Mark Twain. Just what + permanent benefit he received from this particular passion it is difficult + to know. Once, at a class-meeting, after finishing “Easter Day,” + he made a remark which the class requested him to “write down.” + It is recorded on the fly-leaf of Dramatis Personae as follows: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + One's glimpses & confusions, as one reads Browning, remind me of + looking through a telescope (the small sort which you must move with + your hand, not clock-work). You toil across dark spaces which are + (to your lens) empty; but every now & then a splendor of stars & + suns bursts upon you and fills the whole field with flame. Feb. + 23, 1887. +</pre> + <p> + In another note he speaks of the “vague dim flash of splendid + humming-birds through a fog.” Whatever mental treasures he may or + may not have laid up from Browning there was assuredly a deep + gratification in the discovery of those splendors of “stars and suns” + and the flashing “humming-birds,” as there must also have been + in pointing out those wonders to the little circle of devout listeners. It + all seemed so worth while. + </p> + <p> + It was at a time when George Meredith was a reigning literary favorite. + There was a Meredith cult as distinct as that of Browning. Possibly it + exists to-day, but, if so, it is less militant. Mrs. Clemens and her + associates were caught in the Meredith movement and read Diana of the + Crossways and the Egoist with reverential appreciation. + </p> + <p> + The Meredith epidemic did not touch Mark Twain. He read but few novels at + most, and, skilful as was the artistry of the English favorite, he found + his characters artificialities—ingeniously contrived puppets rather + than human beings, and, on the whole, overrated by their creator. Diana of + the Crossways was read aloud, and, listening now and then, he was likely + to say: + </p> + <p> + “It doesn't seem to me that Diana lives up to her reputation. The + author keeps telling us how smart she is, how brilliant, but I never seem + to hear her say anything smart or brilliant. Read me some of Diana's smart + utterances.” + </p> + <p> + He was relentless enough in his criticism of a literature he did not care + for, and he never learned to care for Meredith. + </p> + <p> + He read his favorite books over and over with an ever-changing point of + view. He re-read Carlyle's French Revolution during the summer at the + farm, and to Howells he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + How stunning are the changes which age makes in man while he sleeps! + When I finished Carlyle's French Revolution in 1871 I was a + Girondin; every time I have read it since I have read it + differently—being influenced & changed, little by little, by life & + environment (& Taine & St. Simon); & now I lay the book down once + more, & recognize that I am a Sansculotte!—And not a pale, + characterless Sansculotte, but a Marat. Carlyle teaches no such + gospel, so the change is in me—in my vision of the evidences. + + People pretend that the Bible means the same to them at 50 that it + did at all former milestones in their journey. I wonder how they + can lie so. It comes of practice, no doubt. They would not say + that of Dickens's or Scott's books. Nothing remains the same. When + a man goes back to look at the house of his childhood it has always + shrunk; there is no instance of such house being as big as the + picture in memory & imagination call for. Shrunk how? Why, to its + correct dimensions; the house hasn't altered; this is the first time + it has been in focus. + + Well, that's loss. To have house & Bible shrink so, under the + disillusioning corrected angle, is loss—for a moment. But there + are compensations. You tilt the tube skyward & bring planets & + comets & corona flames a hundred & fifty thousand miles high into + the field. Which I see you have done, & found Tolstoi. I haven't + got him in focus yet, but I've got Browning. +</pre> + <p> + In time the Browning passion would wane and pass, and the club was + succeeded by, or perhaps it blended with, a German class which met at + regular intervals at the Clemens home to study “der, die, and das” + and the “gehabt habens” out of Meisterschaft and such other + text-books as Professor Schleutter could provide. They had monthly + conversation days, when they discussed in German all sorts of things, real + and imaginary. Once Dr. Root, a prominent member, and Clemens had a long + wrangle over painting a house, in which they impersonated two German + neighbors. + </p> + <p> + Clemens finally wrote for the class a three-act play “Meisterschaft”—a + literary achievement for which he was especially qualified, with its + picturesque mixture of German and English and its unfailing humor. It + seems unlike anything ever attempted before or since. No one but Mark + Twain could have written it. It was given twice by the class with enormous + success, and in modified form it was published in the Century Magazine + (January, 1888). It is included to-day in his “Complete Works,” + but one must have a fair knowledge of German to capture the full delight + of it.—[On the original manuscript Mark Twain wrote: “There is + some tolerably rancid German here and there in this piece. It is + attributable to the proof-reader.” Perhaps the proof-reader resented + this and cut it out, for it does not appear as published.] + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain probably exaggerated his sentiments a good deal when in the + Carlyle letter he claimed to be the most rabid of Sansculottes. It is + unlikely that he was ever very bare-kneed and crimson in his anarchy. He + believed always that cruelty should be swiftly punished, whether in king + or commoner, and that tyrants should be destroyed. He was for the people + as against kings, and for the union of labor as opposed to the union of + capital, though he wrote of such matters judicially—not radically. + The Knights of Labor organization, then very powerful, seemed to Clemens + the salvation of oppressed humanity. He wrote a vehement and convincing + paper on the subject, which he sent to Howells, to whom it appealed very + strongly, for Howells was socialistic, in a sense, and Clemens made his + appeal in the best and largest sense, dramatizing his conception in a + picture that was to include, in one grand league, labor of whatever form, + and, in the end, all mankind in a final millennium. Howells wrote that he + had read the essay “with thrills amounting to yells of satisfaction,” + and declared it to be the best thing yet said on the subject. The essay + closed: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He [the unionized workman] is here and he will remain. He is the + greatest birth of the greatest age the nations of the world have + known. You cannot sneer at him—that time has gone by. He has + before him the most righteous work that was ever given into the hand + of man to do; and he will do it. Yes, he is here; and the question + is not—as it has been heretofore during a thousand ages—What shall + we do with him? For the first time in history we are relieved of + the necessity of managing his affairs for him. He is not a broken + dam this time—he is the Flood! +</pre> + <p> + It must have been about this time that Clemens developed an intense, even + if a less permanent, interest in another matter which was to benefit the + species. He was one day walking up Fifth Avenue when he noticed the sign, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + PROFESSOR LOISETTE + SCHOOL OF MEMORY + The Instantaneous Art of Never Forgetting +</pre> + <p> + Clemens went inside. When he came out he had all of Professor Loisette's + literature on “predicating correlation,” and for the next + several days was steeping himself in an infusion of meaningless words and + figures and sentences and forms, which he must learn backward and forward + and diagonally, so that he could repeat them awake and asleep in order to + predicate his correlation to a point where remembering the ordinary facts + of life, such as names, addresses, and telephone numbers, would be a mere + diversion. + </p> + <p> + It was another case of learning the multitudinous details of the + Mississippi River in order to do the apparently simple thing of steering a + boat from New Orleans to St. Louis, and it is fair to say that, for the + time he gave it, he achieved a like success. He was so enthusiastic over + this new remedy for human distress that within a very brief time he was + sending out a printed letter recommending Loisette to the public at large. + Here is an extract: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ... I had no SYSTEM—and some sort of rational order of + procedure is, of course, necessary to success in any study. Well, + Loisette furnished me a system. I cannot undertake to say it is the + best, or the worst, because I don't know what the other systems are. + Loisette, among other cruelties, requires you to memorize a great + long string of words that haven't any apparent connection or + meaning—there are perhaps 500 of these words, arranged in maniacal + lines of 6 to 8 or 9 words in each line—71 lines in all. Of course + your first impulse is to resign, but at the end of three or four + hours you find to your surprise that you've GOT them and can deliver + them backward or forward without mistake or hesitation. Now, don't + you see what a world of confidence that must necessarily breed? + —confidence in a memory which before you wouldn't even venture to + trust with the Latin motto of the U. S. lest it mislay it and the + country suffer. + + Loisette doesn't make memories, he furnishes confidence in memories + that already exist. Isn't that valuable? Indeed it is to me. + Whenever hereafter I shall choose to pack away a thing properly in + that refrigerator I sha'n't be bothered with the aforetime doubts; I + shall know I'm going to find it sound and sweet when I go for it + again. +</pre> + <p> + Loisette naturally made the most of this advertising and flooded the + public with Mark Twain testimonials. But presently Clemens decided that + after all the system was not sufficiently simple to benefit the race at + large. He recalled his printed letters and prevailed upon Loisette to + suppress his circulars. Later he decided that the whole system was a + humbug. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0170" id="link2H_4_0170"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLXIII. LETTER TO THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND + </h2> + <p> + It was one day in 1887 that Clemens received evidence that his reputation + as a successful author and publisher—a man of wealth and revenues—had + penetrated even the dimness of the British Tax Offices. A formidable + envelope came, inclosing a letter from his London publishers and a very + large printed document all about the income tax which the Queen's officers + had levied upon his English royalties as the result of a report that he + had taken Buckenham Hall, Norwich, for a year, and was to become an + English resident. The matter amused and interested him. To Chatto & + Windus he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I will explain that all that about Buckenham Hall was an English + newspaper's mistake. I was not in England, and if I had been I + wouldn't have been at Buckenham Hall anyway, but Buckingham Palace, + or I would have endeavored to have found out the reason why... + + But we won't resist. We'll pay as if I were really a resident. The + country that allows me copyright has a right to tax me. +</pre> + <p> + Reflecting on the matter, Clemens decided to make literature of it. He + conceived the notion of writing an open letter to the Queen in the + character of a rambling, garrulous, but well-disposed countryman whose + idea was that her Majesty conducted all the business of the empire + herself. He began: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HARTFORD, November 6, 1887. + + MADAM, You will remember that last May Mr. Edward Bright, the clerk + of the Inland Revenue Office, wrote me about a tax which he said was + due from me to the Government on books of mine published in London + —that is to say, an income tax on the royalties. I do not know Mr. + Bright, and it is embarrassing to me to correspond with strangers, + for I was raised in the country and have always lived there, the + early part in Marion County, Missouri, before the war, and this part + in Hartford County, Connecticut, near Bloomfield and about 8 miles + this side of Farmington, though some call it 9, which it is + impossible to be, for I have walked it many and many a time in + considerably under three hours, and General Hawley says he has done + it in two and a quarter, which is not likely; so it has seemed best + that I write your Majesty. +</pre> + <p> + The letter proceeded to explain that he had never met her Majesty + personally, but that he once met her son, the Prince of Wales, in Oxford + Street, at the head of a procession, while he himself was on the top of an + omnibus. He thought the Prince would probably remember him on account of a + gray coat with flap pockets which he wore, he being the only person on the + omnibus who had on that kind of a coat. + </p> + <p> + “I remember him,” he said, “as easily as I would a + comet.” + </p> + <p> + He explained the difficulty he had in understanding under what heading he + was taxed. There was a foot-note on the list which stated that he was + taxed under “Schedule D, section 14.” He had turned to that + place and found these three things: “Trades, Offices, Gas Works.” + He did not regard authorship as a trade, and he had no office, so he did + not consider that he was taxable under “Schedule D, section 14.” + The letter concludes: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Having thus shown your Majesty that I am not taxable, but am the + victim of the error of a clerk who mistakes the nature of my + commerce, it only remains for me to beg that you will, of your + justice, annul my letter that I spoke of, so that my publisher can + keep back that tax money which, in the confusion and aberration + caused by the Document, I ordered him to pay. You will not miss the + sum, but this is a hard year for authors, and as for lectures I do + not suppose your Majesty ever saw such a dull season. + + With always great and ever-increasing respect, I beg to sign myself + your Majesty's servant to command, + MARK TWAIN. + Her Majesty the Queen, London. +</pre> + <p> + The letter, or “petition,” as it was called, was published in + the Harper's Magazine “Drawer” (December, 1889), and is now + included in the “Complete Works.” Taken as a whole it is one + of the most exquisite of Mark Twain's minor humors. What other humorist + could have refrained from hinting, at least, the inference suggested by + the obvious “Gas Works”? Yet it was a subtler art to let his + old, simple-minded countryman ignore that detail. The little skit was + widely copied and reached the Queen herself in due time, and her son, + Prince Edward, who never forgot its humor. + </p> + <p> + Clemens read a notable paper that year before the Monday Evening Club. Its + subject was “Consistency”—political consistency—and + in it he took occasion to express himself pretty vigorously regarding the + virtue of loyalty to party before principle, as exemplified in the + Blaine-Cleveland campaign. It was in effect a scathing reply to those who, + three years, before, had denounced Twichell and himself for standing by + their convictions.—[ Characteristic paragraphs from this paper will + be found under Appendix R, at the end of last volume.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0171" id="link2H_4_0171"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLXIV. SOME FURTHER ACCOUNT OF CHARLES L. WEBSTER & CO. + </h2> + <p> + Flood-tide is a temporary condition, and the ebb in the business of + Charles L. Webster & Co., though very deliberate, was not delayed in + its beginning. Most of the books published—the early ones at + least-were profitable. McClellan's memoirs paid, as did others of the war + series. + </p> + <p> + Even The Life of Pope Leo XIII. paid. What a statement to make, after all + their magnificent dreams and preparations! It was published simultaneously + in six languages. It was exploited in every conceivable fashion, and its + aggregate sales fell far short of the number which the general agents had + promised for their first orders. It was amazing, it was incredible, but, + alas! it was true. The prospective Catholic purchaser had decided that the + Pope's Life was not necessary to his salvation or even to his + entertainment. Howells explains it, to his own satisfaction at least, when + he says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We did not consider how often Catholics could not read, how often, + when they could, they might not wish to read. The event proved + that, whether they could read or not, the immeasurable majority did + not wish to read The Life of the Pope, though it was written by a + dignitary of the Church and issued to the world with sanction from + the Vatican. +</pre> + <p> + Howells, of course, is referring to the laboring Catholic of that day. + There are no Catholics of this day—no American Catholics, at least—who + do not read, and money among them has become plentiful. Perhaps had the + Pope's Life been issued in this new hour of enlightenment the tale of its + success might have been less sadly told. + </p> + <p> + A variety of books followed. Henry Ward Beecher agreed to write an + autobiography, but he died just when he was beginning the work, and the + biography, which his family put together, brought only a moderate return. + A book of Sandwich Islands tales and legends, by his Hawaiian Majesty King + Kalakaua, edited by Clemens's old friend, Rollin M. Daggett, who had + become United States minister to the islands, barely paid for the cost of + manufacture, while a volume of reminiscences by General Hancock was still + less fortunate. The running expenses of the business were heavy. On the + strength of the Grant success Webster had moved into still larger quarters + at No. 3 East Fifteenth Street, and had a ground floor for a salesroom. + The force had become numerous and costly. It was necessary that a book + should pay largely to maintain this pretentious establishment. A number of + books were published at a heavy loss. Never mind their titles; we may + forget them, with the name of the bookkeeper who presently embezzled + thirty thousand dollars of the firm's money and returned but a trifling + sum. + </p> + <p> + By the end of 1887 there were three works in prospect on which great hopes + were founded—'The Library of Humor', which Howells and Clark had + edited; a personal memoir of General Sheridan's, and a Library of American + Literature in ten volumes, compiled by Edmund Clarence Stedman and Ellen + Mackay Hutchinson. It was believed these would restore the fortunes and + the prestige of the firm. They were all excellent, attractive features. + The Library of Humor was ably selected and contained two hundred choice + drawings by Kemble. The Sheridan Memoir was finely written, and the public + interest in it was bound to be general. The Library of American Literature + was a collection of the best American writing, and seemed bound to appeal + to every American reading-home. It was necessary to borrow most of the + money required to build these books, for the profit made from the Grant + Life and less fortunate ventures was pretty well exhausted. Clemens + presently found a little drift of his notes accumulating at this bank and + that—a disturbing condition, when he remembered it, for he was + financing the typesetting machine by this time, and it was costing a + pretty sum. + </p> + <p> + Meantime, Webster was no longer active in the management. In two years he + had broken down from overwork, and was now desperately ill with an acute + neuralgia that kept him away from the business most of the time. Its + burdens had fallen upon his assistant, Fred J. Hall, a willing, capable + young man, persevering and hopeful, lacking only years and experience. + Hall worked like a beaver, and continually looked forward to success. He + explained, with each month's report of affairs, just why the business had + not prospered more during that particular month, and just why its profits + would be greater during the next. Webster finally retired from the + business altogether, and Hall was given a small partnership in the firm. + He reduced expenses, worked desperately, pumping out the debts, and + managed to keep the craft afloat. + </p> + <p> + The Library of Humor, the Life of Sheridan, and The Library of American + Literature all sold very well; not so well as had been hoped, but the + sales yielded a fair profit. It was thought that if Clemens himself would + furnish a new book now and then the business might regain something of its + original standing. + </p> + <p> + We may believe that Clemens had not been always patient, not always + gentle, during this process of decline. He had differed with Webster, and + occasionally had gone down and reconstructed things after his own notions. + Once he wrote to Orion that he had suddenly awakened to find that there + was no more system in the office than in a nursery without a nurse. + </p> + <p> + “But,” he added, “I have spent a good deal of time there + since, and reduced everything to exact order and system.” + </p> + <p> + Just what were the new features of order instituted it would be + interesting to know. That the financial pressure was beginning to be felt + even in the Clemens home is shown by a Christmas letter to Mrs. Moffett. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HARTFORD, December 18, 1887. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR PAMELA,—Will you take this $15 & buy some candy or other + trifle for yourself & Sam & his wife to remind you that we + remember you? + </p> + <p> + If we weren't a little crowded this year by the type-setter I'd send a + check large enough to buy a family Bible or some other useful thing like + that. However, we go on & on, but the type-setter goes on forever—at + $3,000 a month; which is much more satisfactory than was the case the + first 17 months, when the bill only averaged $2,000, & promised to + take a thousand years. We'll be through now in 3 or 4 months, I reckon, + & then the strain will let up and we can breathe freely once more, + whether success ensues or failure. + </p> + <p> + Even with a type-setter on hand we ought not to be in the least + scrimped-but it would take a long letter to explain why & who is to + blame. + </p> + <p> + All the family send love to all of you, & best Christmas wishes for + your prosperity. + </p> + <p> + Affectionately, SAM. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0172" id="link2H_4_0172"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLXV. LETTERS, VISITS, AND VISITORS + </h2> + <p> + There were many pleasanter things, to be sure. The farm life never failed + with each returning summer; the winters brought gay company and fair + occasions. Sir Henry and Lady Stanley, visiting America, were entertained + in the Clemens home, and Clemens went on to Boston to introduce Stanley to + his lecture audience. Charles Dickens's son, with his wife and daughter, + followed a little later. An incident of their visit seems rather amusing + now. There is a custom in England which requires the host to give the + guest notice of bedtime by handing him a lighted candle. Mrs. Clemens knew + of this custom, but did not have the courage to follow it in her own home, + and the guests knew of no other way to relieve the situation; as a result, + all sat up much later than usual. Eventually Clemens himself suggested + that possibly the guests would like to retire. + </p> + <p> + Robert Louis Stevenson came down from Saranac, and Clemens went in to + visit him at his New York hotel, the St. Stevens, on East Eleventh Street. + Stevenson had orders to sit in the sunshine as much as possible, and + during the few days of their association he and Clemens would walk down to + Washington Square and sit on one of the benches and talk. They discussed + many things—philosophies, people, books; it seems a pity their talk + could not have been preserved. + </p> + <p> + Stevenson was a great admirer of Mark Twain's work. He said that during a + recent painting of his portrait he had insisted on reading Huck Finn aloud + to the artist, a Frenchman, who had at first protested, and finally had + fallen a complete victim to Huck's yarn. In one of Stevenson's letters to + Clemens he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + My father, an old man, has been prevailed upon to read Roughing It + (his usual amusement being found in theology), and after one evening + spent with the book he declared: “I am frightened. It cannot be + safe for a man at my time of life to laugh so much.” + </pre> + <p> + What heaps of letters, by the way, remain from this time, and how curious + some of them are! Many of them are requests of one sort or another, + chiefly for money—one woman asking for a single day's income, + conservatively estimated at five thousand dollars. Clemens seldom answered + an unwarranted letter; but at one time he began a series of unmailed + answers—that is to say, answers in which he had let himself go + merely to relieve his feelings and to restore his spiritual balance. He + prepared an introduction for this series. In it he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ... You receive a letter. You read it. It will be tolerably + sure to produce one of three results: 1, pleasure; 2, displeasure; + 3, indifference. I do not need to say anything about Nos. 1 & 3; + everybody knows what to do with those breeds of letters; it is breed + No. 2 that I am after. It is the one that is loaded up with + trouble. + + When you get an exasperating letter what happens? If you are young + you answer it promptly, instantly—and mail the thing you have + written. At forty what do you do? By that time you have found out + that a letter written in a passion is a mistake in ninety-nine cases + out of a hundred; that it usually wrongs two persons, and always + wrongs one—yourself. You have grown weary of wronging yourself and + repenting; so you manacle, you fetter, you log-chain the frantic + impulse to write a pulverizing answer. You will wait a day or die. + But in the mean time what do you do? Why, if it is about dinner- + time, you sit at table in a deep abstraction all through the meal; + you try to throw it off and help do the talking; you get a start + three or four times, but conversation dies on your lips every time + —your mind isn't on it; your heart isn't in it. You give up, and + subside into a bottomless deep of silence, permanently; people must + speak to you two or three times to get your attention, and then say + it over again to make you understand. This kind of thing goes on + all the rest of the evening; nobody can interest you in anything; + you are useless, a depressing influence, a burden. You go to bed at + last; but at three in the morning you are as wide awake as you were + in the beginning. Thus we see what you have been doing for nine + hours—on the outside. But what were you doing on the inside? You + were writing letters—in your mind. And enjoying it, that is quite + true; that is not to be denied. You have been flaying your + correspondent alive with your incorporeal pen; you have been + braining him, disemboweling him, carving him into little bits, and + then—doing it all over again. For nine hours. + + It was wasted time, for you had no intention of putting any of this + insanity on paper and mailing it. Yes, you know that, and confess + it—but what were you to do? Where was your remedy? Will anybody + contend that a man can say to such masterful anger as that, Go, and + be obeyed? + + No, he cannot; that is certainly true. Well, then, what is he to + do? I will explain by the suggestion contained in my opening + paragraph. During the nine hours he has written as many as forty- + seven furious letters—in his mind. If he had put just one of them + on paper it would have brought him relief, saved him eight hours of + trouble, and given him an hour's red-hot pleasure besides. + + He is not to mail this letter; he understands that, and so he can + turn on the whole volume of his wrath; there is no harm. He is only + writing it to get the bile out. So to speak, he is a volcano: + imaging himself erupting does no good; he must open up his crater + and pour out in reality his intolerable charge of lava if he would + get relief. + + Before he has filled his first sheet sometimes the relief is there. + He degenerates into good-nature from that point. + + Sometimes the load is so hot and so great that one writes as many as + three letters before he gets down to a mailable one; a very angry + one, a less angry one, and an argumentative one with hot embers in + it here and there. He pigeonholes these and then does one of two + things—dismisses the whole matter from his mind or writes the + proper sort of letter and mails it. + + To this day I lose my balance and send an overwarm letter—or more + frequently telegram—two or three times a year. But that is better + than doing it a hundred times a year, as I used to do years ago. + Perhaps I write about as many as ever, but I pigeonhole them. They + ought not to be thrown away. Such a letter a year or so old is as + good as a sermon to the maw who wrote it. It makes him feel small + and shabby, but—well, that wears off. Any sermon does; but the + sermon does some little good, anyway. An old cold letter like that + makes you wonder how you could ever have got into such a rage about + nothing. +</pre> + <p> + The unmailed answers that were to accompany this introduction were + plentiful enough and generally of a fervent sort. One specimen will + suffice. It was written to the chairman of a hospital committee. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR SIR,—If I were Smithfield I would certainly go out and get + behind something and blush. According to your report, “the + politicians are afraid to tax the people for the support” of so + humane and necessary a thing as a hospital. And do your “people” + propose to stand that?—at the hands of vermin officials whom the + breath of their votes could blow out of official existence in a + moment if they had the pluck to band themselves together and blow. + Oh, come, these are not “people”—they are cowed school-boys with + backbones made of boiled macaroni. If you are not misreporting + those “people” you are just in the right business passing the + mendicant hat for them. Dear sir, communities where anything like + citizenship exists are accustomed to hide their shames, but here we + have one proposing to get up a great “exposition” of its dishonor + and advertise it all it can. + + It has been eleven years since I wrote anything for one of those + graveyards called a “Fair paper,” and so I have doubtless lost the + knack of it somewhat; still I have done the best I could for you. +</pre> + <p> + This was from a burning heart and well deserved. One may almost regret + that he did not send it. + </p> + <p> + Once he received a letter intended for one Samuel Clements, of Elma, New + York, announcing that the said Clements's pension had been allowed. But + this was amusing. When Clemens had forwarded the notice to its proper + destination he could not resist sending this comment to the commissioner + at Washington: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR SIR,—I have not applied for a pension. I have often wanted a + pension—often—ever so often—I may say, but in as much as the only + military service I performed during the war was in the Confederate + army, I have always felt a delicacy about asking you for it. + However, since you have suggested the thing yourself, I feel + strengthened. I haven't any very pensionable diseases myself, but I + can furnish a substitute—a man who is just simply a chaos, a museum + of all the different kinds of aches and pains, fractures, + dislocations and malformations there are; a man who would regard + “rheumatism and sore eyes” as mere recreation and refreshment after + the serious occupations of his day. If you grant me the pension, + dear sir, please hand it to General Jos. Hawley, United States + Senator—I mean hand him the certificate, not the money, and he will + forward it to me. You will observe by this postal-card which I + inclose that he takes a friendly interest in the matter. He thinks + I've already got the pension, whereas I've only got the rheumatism; + but didn't want that—I had that before. I wish it were catching. I + know a man that I would load up with it pretty early. Lord, but we + all feel that way sometimes. I've seen the day when but never mind + that; you may be busy; just hand it to Hawley—the certificate, you + understand, is not transferable. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens was in good standing at Washington during the Cleveland + administration, and many letters came, asking him to use his influence + with the President to obtain this or that favor. He always declined, + though once—a few years later, in Europe—when he learned that + Frank Mason, consul-general at Frankfort, was about to be displaced, + Clemens, of his own accord, wrote to Baby Ruth Cleveland about it. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MY DEAR RUTH, I belong to the Mugwumps, and one of the most sacred + rules of our order prevents us from asking favors of officials or + recommending men to office, but there is no harm in writing a + friendly letter to you and telling you that an infernal outrage is + about to be committed by your father in turning out of office the + best Consul I know (and I know a great many) just because he is a + Republican and a Democrat wants his place. +</pre> + <p> + He went on to recall Mason's high and honorable record, suggesting that + Miss Ruth take the matter into her own hands. Then he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I can't send any message to the President, but the next time you + have a talk with him concerning such matters I wish you would tell + him about Captain Mason and what I think of a Government that so + treats its efficient officials. +</pre> + <p> + Just what form of appeal the small agent made is not recorded, but by and + by Mark Twain received a tiny envelope, postmarked Washington, inclosing + this note in President Cleveland's handwriting: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Miss Ruth Cleveland begs to acknowledge the receipt of Mr. Twain's + letter and say that she took the liberty of reading it to the + President, who desires her to thank Mr. Twain for her information, + and to say to him that Captain Mason will not be disturbed in the + Frankfort Consulate. The President also desires Miss Cleveland to + say that if Mr. Twain knows of any other cases of this kind he will + be greatly obliged if he will write him concerning them at his + earliest convenience. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens immensely admired Grover Cleveland, also his young wife, and his + visits to Washington were not infrequent. Mrs. Clemens was not always able + to accompany him, and he has told us how once (it was his first visit + after the President's marriage) she put a little note in the pocket of his + evening waistcoat, which he would be sure to find when dressing, warning + him about his deportment. Being presented to Mrs. Cleveland, he handed her + a card on which he had written “He didn't,” and asked her to + sign her name below those words. Mrs. Cleveland protested that she + couldn't sign it unless she knew what it was he hadn't done; but he + insisted, and she promised to sign if he would tell her immediately + afterward all about it. She signed, and he handed her Mrs. Clemens's note, + which was very brief. It said: + </p> + <p> + “Don't wear your arctics in the White House.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Cleveland summoned a messenger and had the card she had signed mailed + at once to Mrs. Clemens at Hartford. + </p> + <p> + He was not always so well provided against disaster. Once, without + consulting his engagements, he agreed to assist Mrs. Cleveland at a + dedication, only to find that he must write an apology later. In his + letter he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I do not know how it is in the White House, but in this house of + ours whenever the minor half of the administration tries to run + itself without the help of the major half it gets aground. +</pre> + <p> + He explained his position, and added: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I suppose the President often acts just like that; goes and makes an + impossible promise, and you never find it out until it is next to + impossible to break it up and set things straight again. Well, that + is just our way exactly—one-half the administration always busy + getting the family into trouble and the other half busy getting it + out. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0173" id="link2H_4_0173"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLVXVI. A “PLAYER” AND A MASTER OF ARTS + </h2> + <h3> + One morning early in January Clemens received the following note: + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DALY'S THEATER, NEW YORK, January 2, 1888. + + Mr. Augustin Daly will be very much pleased to have Mr. S. L. + Clemens meet Mr. Booth, Mr. Barrett, and Mr. Palmer and a few + friends at lunch on Friday next, January 6th (at one o'clock in + Delmonico's), to discuss the formation of a new club which it is + thought will claim your (sic) interest. + + R. S. V. P. +</pre> + <p> + There were already in New York a variety of literary and artistic + societies, such as The Kinsmen and Tile clubs, with which Clemens was more + or less associated. It was proposed now to form a more comprehensive and + pretentious organization—one that would include the various + associated arts. The conception of this new club, which was to be called + The Players, had grown out of a desire on the part of Edwin Booth to + confer some enduring benefit upon the members of his profession. It had + been discussed during a summer cruise on Mr. E. C. Benedict's steam-yacht + by a little party which, besides the owner, consisted of Booth himself, + Aldrich, Lawrence Barrett, William Bispham, and Laurence Hutton. Booth's + original idea had been to endow some sort of an actors' home, but after + due consideration this did not appear to be the best plan. Some one + proposed a club, and Aldrich, with never-failing inspiration, suggested + its name, The Players, which immediately impressed Booth and the others. + It was then decided that members of all the kindred arts should be + admitted, and this was the plan discussed and perfected at the Daly + luncheon. The guests became charter members, and The Players became an + incorporated fact early in January, 1888.—[Besides Mr. Booth + himself, the charter members were: Lawrence Barrett, William Bispham, + Samuel L. Clemens, Augustin Daly, Joseph F. Daly, John Drew, Henry + Edwards, Laurence Hutton, Joseph Jefferson, John A. Lane, James Lewis, + Brander Matthews, Stephen H. Olin, A. M. Palmer, and William T. Sherman.]—Booth + purchased the fine old brownstone residence at 16 Gramercy Park, and had + expensive alterations made under the directions of Stanford White to adapt + it for club purposes. He bore the entire cost, furnished it from garret to + cellar, gave it his books and pictures, his rare collections of every + sort. Laurence Hutton, writing of it afterward, said: + </p> + <p> + And on the first Founder's Night, the 31st of December, 1888, he + transferred it all to the association, a munificent gift; absolutely + without parallel in its way. The pleasure it gave to Booth during the few + remaining years of his life was very great. He made it his home. Next to + his own immediate family it was his chief interest, care, and consolation. + He nursed and petted it, as it nursed and petted and honored him. He died + in it. And it is certainly his greatest monument. + </p> + <p> + There is no other club quite like The Players. The personality of Edwin + Booth pervades it, and there is a spirit in its atmosphere not found in + other large clubs—a spirit of unity, and ancient friendship, and + mellowness which usually come only of small membership and long + establishment. Mark Twain was always fond of The Players, and more than + once made it his home. It is a true home, and its members are a genuine + brotherhood. + </p> + <p> + It was in June, 1888, that Yale College conferred upon Samuel Clemens the + degree of Master of Arts. It was his first honor of this kind, and he was + proud of it. To Charles Hopkins (“Charley”) Clark, who had + been appointed to apprise him of the honor, he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I felt mighty proud of that degree; in fact I could squeeze the + truth a little closer and say vain of it. And why shouldn't I be? + I am the only literary animal of my particular subspecies who has + ever been given a degree by any college in any age of the world as + far as I know. +</pre> + <p> + To which Clark answered: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MY DEAR FRIEND, You are “the only literary animal of your particular + subspecies” in existence, and you've no cause for humility in the + fact. Yale has done herself at least as much credit as she has done + you, and “don't you forget it.” + C. H. C. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens could not attend the alumni dinner, being at Elmira and unable to + get away, but in an address he made at Yale College later in the year he + thus freely expressed himself: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I was sincerely proud and grateful to be made a Master of Arts by + this great and venerable University, and I would have come last June + to testify this feeling, as I do now testify it, but that the sudden + and unexpected notice of the honor done me found me at a distance + from home and unable to discharge that duty and enjoy that + privilege. + + Along at first, say for the first month or so, I did not quite know + how to proceed because of my not knowing just what authorities and + privileges belonged to the title which had been granted me, but + after that I consulted some students of Trinity—in Hartford—and + they made everything clear to me. It was through them that I found + out that my title made me head of the Governing Body of the + University, and lodged in me very broad and severely responsible + powers. + + I was told that it would be necessary to report to you at this time, + and of course I comply, though I would have preferred to put it off + till I could make a better showing; for indeed I have been so + pertinaciously hindered and obstructed at every turn by the faculty + that it would be difficult to prove that the University is really in + any better shape now than it was when I first took charge. By + advice, I turned my earliest attention to the Greek department. I + told the Greek professor I had concluded to drop the use of Greek- + written character because it is so hard to spell with, and so + impossible to read after you get it spelt. Let us draw the curtain + there. I saw by what followed that nothing but early neglect saved + him from being a very profane man. I ordered the professor of + mathematics to simplify the whole system, because the way it was I + couldn't understand it, and I didn't want things going on in the + college in what was practically a clandestine fashion. I told him + to drop the conundrum system; it was not suited to the dignity of a + college, which should deal in facts, not guesses and suppositions; + we didn't want any more cases of if A and B stand at opposite poles + of the earth's surface and C at the equator of Jupiter, at what + variations of angle will the left limb of the moon appear to these + different parties?—I said you just let that thing alone; it's + plenty time to get in a sweat about it when it happens; as like as + not it ain't going to do any harm, anyway. His reception of these + instructions bordered on insubordination, insomuch that I felt + obliged to take his number and report him. I found the astronomer + of the University gadding around after comets and other such odds + and ends—tramps and derelicts of the skies. I told him pretty + plainly that we couldn't have that. I told him it was no economy to + go on piling up and piling up raw material in the way of new stars + and comets and asteroids that we couldn't ever have any use for till + we had worked off the old stock. At bottom I don't really mind + comets so much, but somehow I have always been down on asteroids. + There is nothing mature about them; I wouldn't sit up nights the way + that man does if I could get a basketful of them. He said it was + the best line of goods he had; he said he could trade them to + Rochester for comets, and trade the comets to Harvard for nebulae, + and trade the nebulae to the Smithsonian for flint hatchets. I felt + obliged to stop this thing on the spot; I said we couldn't have the + University turned into an astronomical junk shop. And while I was + at it I thought I might as well make the reform complete; the + astronomer is extraordinarily mutinous, and so, with your approval, + I will transfer him to the law department and put one of the law + students in his place. A boy will be more biddable, more tractable, + also cheaper. It is true he cannot be intrusted with important work + at first, but he can comb the skies for nebulae till he gets his + hand in. I have other changes in mind, but as they are in the + nature of surprises I judge it politic to leave them unspecified at + this time. +</pre> + <p> + Very likely it was in this new capacity, as the head of the governing + body, that he wrote one morning to Clark advising him as to the misuse of + a word in the Courant, though he thought it best to sign the communication + with the names of certain learned friends, to give it weight with the + public, as he afterward explained. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SIR,—The word “patricide” in your issue of this morning (telegrams) + was an error. You meant it to describe the slayer of a father; you + should have used “parricide” instead. Patricide merely means the + killing of an Irishman—any Irishman, male or female. + + Respectfully, + J. HAMMOND TRUMBULL. + N. J. BURTON. + J. H. TWICHELL. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0174" id="link2H_4_0174"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLXVII. NOTES AND LITERARY MATTERS + </h2> + <p> + Clemens' note-books of this time are full of the vexations of his business + ventures, figures, suggestions, and a hundred imagined combinations for + betterment—these things intermingled with the usual bits of + philosophy and reflections, and amusing reminders. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Aldrich's man who painted the fat toads red, and naturalist chasing + and trying to catch them. + + Man who lost his false teeth over Brooklyn Bridge when he was on his + way to propose to a widow. + + One believes St. Simon and Benvenuto and partly believes the + Margravine of Bayreuth. There are things in the confession of + Rousseau which one must believe. + + What is biography? Unadorned romance. What is romance? Adorned + biography. Adorn it less and it will be better than it is. + + If God is what people say there can be none in the universe so + unhappy as he; for he sees unceasingly myriads of his creatures + suffering unspeakable miseries, and, besides this, foresees all they + are going to suffer during the remainder of their lives. One might + well say “as unhappy as God.” + </pre> + <p> + In spite of the financial complexities and the drain of the enterprises + already in hand he did not fail to conceive others. He was deeply + interested in Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress at the moment, and from + photography and scenic effect he presaged a possibility to-day realized in + the moving picture. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Dress up some good actors as Apollyon, Greatheart, etc., & the other + Bunyan characters, take them to a wild gorge and photograph them—Valley + of the Shadow of Death; to other effective places & photo them along + with the scenery; to Paris, in their curious costumes, place them near the + Arc de l'Etoile & photo them with the crowd-Vanity Fair; to Cairo, + Venice, Jerusalem, & other places (twenty interesting cities) & + always make them conspicuous in the curious foreign crowds by their + costume. Take them to Zululand. It would take two or three years to do the + photographing & cost $10,000; but this stereopticon panorama of + Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress could be exhibited in all countries at the + same time & would clear a fortune in a year. By & by I will do + this. + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + If in 1891 I find myself not rich enough to carry out my scheme of + buying Christopher Columbus's bones & burying them under the Statue + of Liberty Enlightening the World I will give the idea to somebody + who is rich enough. +</pre> + <p> + Incidentally he did an occasional piece of literary work. Early in the + year, with Brander Matthews, he instructed and entertained the public with + a copyright controversy in the Princeton Review. Matthews would appear to + have criticized the English copyright protection, or rather the lack of + it, comparing it unfavorably with American conditions. Clemens, who had + been amply protected in Great Britain, replied that America was in no + position to criticize England; that if American authors suffered in + England they had themselves to blame for not taking the proper trouble and + precautions required by the English law, that is to say, “previous + publication” on English soil. He declared that his own books had + been as safe in England as at home since he had undertaken to comply with + English requirements, and that Professor Matthews was altogether mistaken, + both as to premise and conclusion. + </p> + <p> + “You are the very wrong-headedest person in America,” he said; + “and you are injudicious.” And of the article: “I read + it to the cat—well, I never saw a cat carry on so before.... The + American author can go to Canada, spend three days there and come home + with an English and American copyright as strong as if it had been built + out of railroad iron.” + </p> + <p> + Matthews replied that not every one could go to Canada, any more than to + Corinth. He said: + </p> + <p> + “It is not easy for a poor author who may chance to live in Florida + or Texas, those noted homes of literature, to go to Canada.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens did not reply again; that is to say, he did not publish his reply. + It was a capable bomb which he prepared, well furnished with amusing + instance, sarcasm, and ridicule, but he did not use it. Perhaps he was + afraid it would destroy his opponent, which would not do. In his heart he + loved Matthews. He laid the deadly thing away and maintained a dignified + reserve. + </p> + <p> + Clemens often felt called upon to criticize American institutions, but he + was first to come to their defense, especially when the critic was an + alien. When Matthew Arnold offered some strictures on America. Clemens + covered a good many quires of paper with caustic replies. He even defended + American newspapers, which he had himself more than once violently + assailed for misreporting him and for other journalistic shortcomings, and + he bitterly denounced every shaky British institution, touched upon every + weak spot in hereditary rule. He did not print—not then—[An + article on the American press, probably the best of those prepared at this + time, was used, in part, in The American Claimant, as the paper read + before the Mechanics' Club, by “Parker,” assistant editor of + the 'Democrat'.]—he was writing mainly for relief—without + success, however, for he only kindled the fires of his indignation. He was + at Quarry Farm and he plunged into his neglected story—A Yankee in + King Arthur's Court—and made his astonishing hero the mouthpiece of + his doctrines. He worked with an inspiration and energy born of his + ferocity. To Whitmore, near the end of the summer, he wrote: + </p> + <p> + I've got 16 working-days left yet, and in that time I will add another + 120,000 words to my book if I have luck. + </p> + <p> + In his memoranda of this time he says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There was never a throne which did not represent a crime. There is + no throne to-day which does not represent a crime.... +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Show me a lord and I will show you a man whom you couldn't tell from a + journeyman shoemaker if he were stripped, and who, in all that is worth + being, is the shoemaker's inferior; and in the shoemaker I will show you a + dull animal, a poor-spirited insect; for there are enough of him to rise + and chuck the lords and royalties into the sea where they belong, and he + doesn't do it. + </pre> + <p> + But his violence waned, maybe, for he did not finish the Yankee in the + sixteen days as planned. He brought the manuscript back to Hartford, but + found it hard work there, owing to many interruptions. He went over to + Twichell's and asked for a room where he might work in seclusion. They + gave him a big upper chamber, but some repairs were going on below. From a + letter written to Theodore Crane we gather that it was not altogether + quiet. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Friday, October 5, 1888. + + DEAR THEO, I am here in Twichell's house at work, with the noise of + the children and an army of carpenters to help: Of course they don't + help, but neither do they hinder. It's like a boiler factory for + racket, and in nailing a wooden ceiling on to the room under me the + hammering tickles my feet amazingly sometimes and jars my table a + good deal, but I never am conscious of the racket at all, and I move + my feet into positions of relief without knowing when I do it. I + began here Monday morning, and have done eighty pages since. I was + so tired last night that I thought I would lie abed and rest to-day; + but I couldn't resist. I mean to try to knock off tomorrow, but + it's doubtful if I do. I want to finish the day the machine + finishes, and a week ago the closest calculations for that indicated + Oct. 22—but experience teaches me that the calculations will miss + fire as usual. + + The other day the children were projecting a purchase, Livy and I to + furnish the money—a dollar and a half. Jean discouraged the idea. + She said, “We haven't got any money. Children, if you would think, + you would remember the machine isn't done.” + + It's billiards to-night. I wish you were here. + + With love to you both, S. L. C. + + P. S. I got it all wrong. It wasn't the children, it was Marie. + She wanted a box of blacking for the children's shoes. Jean + reproved her and said, “Why, Marie, you mustn't ask for things now. + The machine isn't done.” + </pre> + <p> + Neither the Yankee nor the machine was completed that fall, though returns + from both were beginning to be badly needed. The financial pinch was not + yet severe, but it was noticeable, and it did not relax. + </p> + <p> + A memorandum of this time tells of an anniversary given to Charles and + Susan Warner in their own home. The guests assembled at the Clemens home, + the Twichells among them, and slipped across to Warner's, entering through + a window. Dinner was then announced to the Warners, who were sitting by + their library fire. They came across the hall and opened the dining-room + door, to be confronted by a table fully spread and lighted and an array of + guests already seated. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0175" id="link2H_4_0175"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLXVIII. INTRODUCING NYE AND RILEY AND OTHERS + </h2> + <p> + It was the winter (1888-89) that the Bill Nye and James Whitcomb Riley + entertainment combination set out on its travels. Mark Twain introduced + them to their first Boston audience. Major J. B. Pond was exploiting Nye + and Riley, and Clemens went on to Boston especially to hear them. Pond + happened upon him in the lobby of the Parker House and insisted that + nothing would do but he must introduce them. In his book of memories which + he published later Pond wrote: + </p> + <p> + He replied that he believed I was his mortal enemy, and determined that he + should never have an evening's enjoyment in my presence. He consented, + however, and conducted his brother-humorist and the Hoosier poet to the + platform. Mark's presence was a surprise to the audience, and when they + recognized him the demonstration was tremendous. The audience rose in a + body, and men and women shouted at the very top of their voices. + Handkerchiefs waved, the organist even opened every forte key and pedal in + the great organ, and the noise went on unabated for minutes. It took some + time for the crowd to get down to listening, but when they did subside, as + Mark stepped to the front, the silence was as impressive as the noise had + been. + </p> + <p> + He presented the Nye-Riley pair as the Siamese Twins. “I saw them + first,” he said, “a great many years ago, when Mr. Barnum had + them, and they were just fresh from Siam. The ligature was their best hold + then, but literature became their best hold later, when one of them + committed an indiscretion, and they had to cut the old bond to accommodate + the sheriff.” + </p> + <p> + He continued this comic fancy, and the audience was in a proper frame of + mind, when he had finished, to welcome the “Twins of Genius” + who were to entertain them: + </p> + <p> + Pond says: + </p> + <p> + It was a carnival of fun in every sense of the word. Bostonians will not + have another such treat in this generation. + </p> + <p> + Pond proposed to Clemens a regular tour with Nye and Riley. He wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I will go partners with you, and I will buy Nye and Riley's time and + give an entertainment something like the one we gave in Boston. Let + it be announced that you will introduce the “Twins of Genius.” + Ostensibly a pleasure trip for you. I will take one-third of the + profits and you two-thirds. I can tell you it will be the biggest + thing that can be brought before the American public. +</pre> + <p> + But Clemens, badly as he was beginning to need the money, put this + temptation behind him. His chief diversion these days was in gratuitous + appearances. He had made up his mind not to read or lecture again for pay, + but he seemed to take a peculiar enjoyment in doing these things as a + benefaction. That he was beginning to need the money may have added a zest + to the joy of his giving. He did not respond to all invitations; he could + have been traveling constantly had he done so. He consulted with Mrs. + Clemens and gave himself to the cause that seemed most worthy. In January + Col. Richard Malcolm Johnston was billed to give a reading with Thomas + Nelson Page in Baltimore. Page's wife fell ill and died, and Colonel + Johnston, in extremity, wired Charles Dudley Warner to come in Page's + place. Warner, unable to go, handed the invitation to Clemens, who + promptly wired that he would come. They read to a packed house, and when + the audience was gone and the returns had been counted an equal division + of the profits was handed to each of the authors. Clemens pushed his share + over to Johnston, saying: + </p> + <p> + “That's yours, Colonel. I'm not reading for money these days.” + </p> + <p> + Colonel Johnston, to whom the sum was important, tried to thank him, but + he only said: + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, Colonel, it only gave me pleasure to do you that little + favor. You can pass it on some day.” + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact, hard put to it as he was for funds, Clemens at this + time regarded himself as a potential multi-millionaire. The type-setting + machine which for years had been sapping his financial strength was + believed to be perfected, and ship-loads of money were waiting in the + offing. However, we shall come to this later. + </p> + <p> + Clemens read for the cadets at West Point and for a variety of + institutions and on many special occasions. He usually gave chapters from + his Yankee, now soon to be finished, chapters generally beginning with the + Yankee's impression of the curious country and its people, ending with the + battle of the Sun-belt, when the Yankee and his fifty-four adherents were + masters of England, with twenty-five thousand dead men lying about them. + He gave this at West Point, including the chapter where the Yankee has + organized a West Point of his own in King Arthur's reign. + </p> + <p> + In April, '89, he made an address at a dinner given to a victorious + baseball team returning from a tour of the world by way of the Sandwich + Islands. He was on familiar ground there. His heart was in his words. He + began: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have been in the Sandwich Islands-twenty-three years ago—that + peaceful land, that beautiful land, that far-off home of solitude, + and soft idleness, and repose, and dreams, where life is one long + slumberous Sabbath, the climate one long summer day, and the good + that die experience no change, for they but fall asleep in one + heaven and wake up in another. And these boys have played baseball + there!—baseball, which is the very symbol, the outward and visible + expression, of the drive and push and rush and struggle of the + living, tearing, booming nineteenth, the mightiest of all the + centuries! +</pre> + <p> + He told of the curious island habits for his hearers' amusement, but at + the close the poetry of his memories once more possessed him: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ah, well, it is refreshment to the jaded, it is water to the + thirsty, to look upon men who have so lately breathed the soft air + of those Isles of the Blest and had before their eyes the + inextinguishable vision of their beauty. No alien land in all the + earth has any deep, strong charm for me but that one; no other land + could so longingly and so beseechingly haunt me, sleeping and + waking, through half a lifetime, as that one has done. Other things + leave me, but it abides; other things change, but it remains the + same. For me its balmy airs are always blowing, its summer seas + flashing in the sun; the pulsing of its surf is in my ear; I can see + its garlanded crags, its leaping cascades, its plumy palms drowsing + by the shore, its remote summits floating like islands above the + cloud-rack; I can feel the spirit of its woody solitudes, I hear the + plashing of the brooks; in my nostrils still lives the breath of + flowers that perished twenty years ago. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0176" id="link2H_4_0176"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLXIX. THE COMING OF KIPLING + </h2> + <p> + It was the summer of 1889 that Mark Twain first met Rudyard Kipling. + Kipling was making his tour around the world, a young man wholly unheard + of outside of India. He was writing letters home to an Indian journal, The + Pioneer, and he came to Elmira especially to see Mark Twain. It was night + when he arrived, and next morning some one at the hotel directed him to + Quarry Farm. In a hired hack he made his way out through the suburbs, + among the buzzing planing-mills and sash factories, and toiled up the + long, dusty, roasting east hill, only to find that Mark Twain was at + General Langdon's, in the city he had just left behind. Mrs. Crane and + Susy Clemens were the only ones left at the farm, and they gave him a seat + on the veranda and brought him glasses of water or cool milk while he + refreshed them with his talk-talk which Mark Twain once said might be + likened to footprints, so strong and definite was the impression which it + left behind. He gave them his card, on which the address was Allahabad, + and Susy preserved it on that account, because to her India was a + fairyland, made up of magic, airy architecture, and dark mysteries. + Clemens once dictated a memory of Kipling's visit. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Kipling had written upon the card a compliment to me. This gave it + an additional value in Susy's eyes, since, as a distinction, it was + the next thing to being recognized by a denizen of the moon. + + Kipling came down that afternoon and spent a couple of hours with + me, and at the end of that time I had surprised him as much as he + had surprised me—and the honors were easy. I believed that he knew + more than any person I had met before, and I knew that he knew that + I knew less than any person he had met before—though he did not say + it, and I was not expecting that he would. When he was gone Mrs. + Langdon wanted to know about my visitor. I said: + + “He is a stranger to me, but he is a most remarkable man—and I am + the other one. Between us we cover all knowledge; he knows all that + can be known, and I know the rest.” + + He was a stranger to me and to all the world, and remained so for + twelve months, then he became suddenly known, and universally known. + From that day to this he has held this unique distinction—that of + being the only living person, not head of a nation, whose voice is + heard around the world the moment it drops a remark; the only such + voice in existence that does not go by slow ship and rail, but + always travels first-class—by cable. + + About a year after Kipling's visit in Elmira George Warner came into + our library one morning in Hartford with a small book in his hand + and asked me if I had ever heard of Rudyard Kipling. I said, “No.” + + He said I would hear of him very soon, and that the noise he was + going to make would be loud and continuous. The little book was the + Plain Tales, and he left it for me to read, saying it was charged + with a new and inspiriting fragrance, and would blow a refreshing + breath around the world that would revive the nations. A day or two + later he brought a copy of the London World which had a sketch of + Kipling in it, and a mention of the fact that he had traveled in the + United States. According to this sketch he had passed through + Elmira. This remark, with the additional fact that he hailed from + India, attracted my attention—also Susy's. She went to her room + and brought his card from its place in the frame of her mirror, and + the Quarry Farm visitor stood identified. +</pre> + <p> + Kipling also has left an account of that visit. In his letter recording it + he says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + You are a contemptible lot over yonder. Some of you are + Commissioners and some are Lieutenant-Governors, and some have the + V. C., and a few are privileged to walk about the Mall arm in arm + with the Viceroy; but I have seen Mark Twain this golden morning, + have shaken his hand and smoked a cigar—no, two cigars—with him, + and talked with him for more than two hours! Understand clearly + that I do not despise you; indeed, I don't. I am only very sorry + for you, from the Viceroy downward. + + A big, darkened drawing-room; a huge chair; a man with eyes, a mane + of grizzled hair, a brown mustache covering a mouth as delicate as a + woman's, a strong, square hand shaking mine, and the slowest, + calmest, levelest voice in all the world saying: + + “Well, you think you owe me something, and you've come to tell me + so. That's what I call squaring a debt handsomely.” + + “Piff!” from a cob-pipe (I always said that a Missouri meerschaum + was the best smoking in the world), and behold! Mark Twain had + curled himself up in the big arm-chair, and I was smoking + reverently, as befits one in the presence of his superior. + + The thing that struck me first was that he was an elderly man; yet, + after a minute's thought, I perceived that it was otherwise, and in + five minutes, the eyes looking at me, I saw that the gray hair was + an accident of the most trivial. He was quite young. I was shaking + his hand. I was smoking his cigar, and I was hearing him talk—this + man I had learned to love and admire fourteen thousand miles away. + + Reading his books, I had striven to get an idea of his personality, + and all my preconceived notions were wrong and beneath the reality. + Blessed is the man who finds no disillusion when he is brought face + to face with a revered writer. +</pre> + <p> + The meeting of those two men made the summer of '89 memorable in later + years. But it was recalled sadly, too. Theodore Crane, who had been taken + suddenly and dangerously ill the previous autumn, had a recurring attack + and died July 3d. It was the first death in the immediate families for + more than seventeen years. Mrs. Clemens, remembering that earlier period + of sorrow, was depressed with forebodings. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0177" id="link2H_4_0177"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLXX. “THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER” ON THE STAGE + </h2> + <p> + There was an unusual dramatic interest in the Clemens home that autumn. + Abby Sage Richardson had dramatized 'The Prince and the Pauper', and + Daniel Frohman had secured Elsie Leslie (Lyde) to take the double role of + the Prince and Tom Canty. The rehearsals were going on, and the Clemens + children were naturally a good deal excited over the outcome. Susy Clemens + was inspired to write a play of her own—a pretty Greek fancy, called + “The Triumph of Music,” and when it was given on Thanksgiving + night, by herself, with Clara and Jean and Margaret Warner, it was really + a lovely performance, and carried one back to the days when emotions were + personified, and nymphs haunted the seclusions of Arcady. Clemens was + proud of Susy's achievement, and deeply moved by it. He insisted on having + the play repeated, and it was given again later in the year. + </p> + <p> + Pretty Elsie Leslie became a favorite of the Clemens household. She was + very young, and when she visited Hartford Jean and she were companions and + romped together in the hay-loft. She was also a favorite of William + Gillette. One day when Clemens and Gillette were together they decided to + give the little girl a surprise—a unique one. They agreed to + embroider a pair of slippers for her—to do the work themselves. + Writing to her of it, Mark Twain said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Either one of us could have thought of a single slipper, but it took + both of us to think of two slippers. In fact, one of us did think + of one slipper, and then, quick as a flash, the other of the other + one. It shows how wonderful the human mind is.... + + Gillette embroidered his slipper with astonishing facility and + splendor, but I have been a long time pulling through with mine. + You see, it was my very first attempt at art, and I couldn't rightly + get the hang of it along at first. And then I was so busy that I + couldn't get a chance to work at it at home, and they wouldn't let + me embroider on the cars; they said it made the other passengers + afraid. They didn't like the light that flared into my eye when I + had an inspiration. And even the most fair-minded people doubted me + when I explained what it was I was making—especially brakemen. + Brakemen always swore at it and carried on, the way ignorant people + do about art. They wouldn't take my word that it was a slipper; + they said they believed it was a snow-shoe that had some kind of + disease. +</pre> + <p> + He went on to explain and elucidate the pattern of the slipper, and how + Dr. Root had come in and insisted on taking a hand in it, and how + beautiful it was to see him sit there and tell Mrs. Clemens what had been + happening while they were away during the summer, holding the slipper up + toward the end of his nose, imagining the canvas was a “subject” + with a scalp-wound, working with a “lovely surgical stitch,” + never hesitating a moment in his talk except to say “Ouch!” + when he stuck himself with the needle. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Take the slippers and wear them next your heart, Elsie dear; for + every stitch in them is a testimony of the affection which two of + your loyalest friends bear you. Every single stitch cost us blood. + I've got twice as many pores in me now as I used to have; and you + would never believe how many places you can stick a needle in + yourself until you go into the embroidery line and devote yourself + to art. + + Do not wear these slippers in public, dear; it would only excite + envy; and, as like as not, somebody would try to shoot you. + + Merely use them to assist you in remembering that among the many, + many people who think all the world of you is your friend, + + MARK TWAIN. +</pre> + <p> + The play of “The Prince and the Pauper,” dramatized by Mrs. + Richardson and arranged for the stage by David Belasco, was produced at + the Park Theater, Philadelphia, on Christmas Eve. It was a success, but + not a lavish one. The play was well written and staged, and Elsie Leslie + was charming enough in her parts, but in the duality lay the difficulty. + The strongest scenes in the story had to be omitted when one performer + played both Tom Canty and the little Prince. The play came to New York—to + the Broadway Theater—and was well received. On the opening night + there Mark Twain made a speech, in which he said that the presentation of + “The Prince and the Pauper” realized a dream which fifteen + years before had possessed him all through a long down-town tramp, amid + the crowds and confusion of Broadway. In Elsie Leslie, he said, he had + found the embodiment of his dream, and to her he offered homage as the + only prince clothed in a divine right which was not rags and sham—the + divine right of an inborn supremacy in art. + </p> + <p> + It seems incredible to-day that, realizing the play's possibilities as + Mark Twain did, and as Belasco and Daniel Frohman must have done, they did + not complete their partial triumph by finding another child actress to + take the part of Tom Canty. Clemens urged and pleaded with them, but + perhaps the undertaking seemed too difficult—at all events they did + not find the little beggar king. Then legal complications developed. + Edward House, to whom Clemens had once given a permission to attempt a + dramatization of the play, suddenly appeared with a demand for + recognition, backed by a lawsuit against all those who had a proprietary + interest in the production. House, with his adopted Japanese daughter + Koto, during a period of rheumatism and financial depression, had made a + prolonged visit in the Clemens home and originally undertook the + dramatization as a sort of return for hospitality. He appears not to have + completed it and to have made no arrangement for its production or to have + taken any definite step until Mrs. Richardson's play was profitably put + on; whereupon his suit and injunction. + </p> + <p> + By the time a settlement of this claim had been reached the play had run + its course, and it was not revived in that form. It was brought out in + England, where it was fairly prosperous, though it seems not to have been + long continued. Variously reconstructed, it has occasionally been played + since, and always, when the parts of Tom Canty and the Prince were + separate, with great success. Why this beautiful drama should ever be + absent from the boards is one of the unexplainable things. It is a play + for all times and seasons, the difficulty of obtaining suitable “twin” + interpreters for the characters of the Prince and the Pauper being its + only drawback. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0178" id="link2H_4_0178"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLXXI. “A CONNECTICUT YANKEE IN KING ARTHUR'S COURT” + </h2> + <p> + From every point of view it seemed necessary to make the 'Yankee in King + Arthur's Court' an important and pretentious publication. It was Mark + Twain's first book after a silence of five years; it was a book badly + needed by his publishing business with which to maintain its prestige and + profit; it was a book which was to come out of his maturity and present + his deductions, as to humanity at large and kings in particular, to a + waiting public. It was determined to spare no expense on the manufacture, + also that its illustrations must be of a sort to illuminate and, indeed, + to elaborate the text. Clemens had admired some pictures made by Daniel + Carter (“Dan”) Beard for a Chinese story in the Cosmopolitan, + and made up his mind that Beard was the man for the Yankee. The manuscript + was sent to Beard, who met Clemens a little later in the office of Webster + & Co. to discuss the matter. Clemens said: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Beard, I do not want to subject you to any undue suffering, but + I wish you would read the book before you make the pictures.” + </p> + <p> + Beard replied that he had already read it twice. + </p> + <p> + “Very good,” Clemens said; “but I wasn't led to suppose + that that was the usual custom among illustrators, judging from some + results I have seen. You know,” he went on, “this Yankee of + mine has neither the refinement nor the weakness of a college education; + he is a perfect ignoramus; he is boss of a machine shop; he can build a + locomotive or a Colt's revolver, he can put up and run a telegraph line, + but he's an ignoramus, nevertheless. I am not going to tell you what to + draw. If a man comes to me and says, 'Mr. Clemens, I want you to write me + a story,' I'll write it for him; but if he undertakes to tell me what to + write I'll say, 'Go hire a typewriter.'” + </p> + <p> + To Hall a few days later he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Tell Beard to obey his own inspirations, and when he sees a picture + in his mind put that picture on paper, be it humorous or be it + serious. I want his genius to be wholly unhampered. I sha'n't have + any fear as to results. +</pre> + <p> + Without going further it is proper to say here that the pictures in the + first edition of A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court justified the + author's faith in the artist of his selection. They are far and away Dan + Beard's best work. The socialism of the text strongly appealed to him. + Beard himself had socialistic tendencies, and the work inspired him to his + highest flights of fancy and to the acme of his technic. Clemens examined + the pictures from time to time, and once was moved to write: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + My pleasure in them is as strong and as fresh as ever. I do not + know of any quality they lack. Grace, dignity, poetry, spirit, + imagination, these enrich them and make them charming and beautiful; + and wherever humor appears it is high and fine—easy, unforced, kept + under, masterly, and delicious. +</pre> + <p> + He went on to describe his appreciation in detail, and when the drawings + were complete he wrote again: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Hold me under permanent obligations. What luck it was to find you! + There are hundreds of artists who could illustrate any other book of + mine, but there was only one who could illustrate this one. Yes, it + was a fortunate hour that I went netting for lightning-bugs and + caught a meteor. Live forever! +</pre> + <p> + This was not too much praise. Beard realized the last shade of the + author's allegorical intent and portrayed it with a hundred accents which + the average reader would otherwise be likely to miss. + </p> + <p> + Clemens submitted his manuscript to Howells and to Stedman, and he read + portions of it, at least, to Mrs. Clemens, whose eyes were troubling her + so that she could not read for herself. Stedman suggested certain + eliminations, but, on the whole, would seem to have approved of the book. + Howells was enthusiastic. It appealed to him as it had appealed to Beard. + Its sociology and its socialism seemed to him the final word that could be + said on those subjects. When he had partly finished it he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It's a mighty great book and it makes my heart, burn with wrath. It + seems that God didn't forget to put a soul in you. He shuts most + literary men off with a brain, merely. +</pre> + <p> + A few days later he wrote again: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The book is glorious-simply noble. What masses of virgin truth + never touched in print before! +</pre> + <p> + And when he had finished it: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Last night I read your last chapter. As Stedman says of the whole + book, it's titanic. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens declared, in one of his replies to Howells: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I'm not writing for those parties who miscall themselves critics, + and I don't care to have them paw the book at all. It's my swan + song, my retirement from literature permanently, and I wish to pass + to the cemetery unclodded.... Well, my book is written—let + it go, but if it were only to write over again there wouldn't be so + many things left out. They burn in me; they keep multiplying and + multiplying, but now they can't ever be said; and besides they would + require a library—and a pen warmed up in hell. +</pre> + <p> + In another letter of this time to Sylvester Baxter, apropos of the + tumbling Brazilian throne, he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When our great brethren, the disenslaved Brazilians, frame their + declaration of independence I hope they will insert this missing + link: “We hold these truths to be self-evident—that all monarchs + are usurpers and descendants of usurpers, for the reason that no + throne was ever set up in this world by the will, freely exercised, + of the only body possessing the legitimate right to set it up—the + numerical mass of the nation.” + </pre> + <p> + He was full of it, as he had been all along, and 'A Connecticut Yankee in + King Arthur's Court' is nothing less than a brief for human rights and + human privileges. That is what it is, and it is a pity that it should be + more than that. It is a pity that he should have been beset by his old + demon of the burlesque, and that no one should have had the wisdom or the + strength to bring it under control. + </p> + <p> + There is nothing more charming in any of Mark Twain's work than his + introductory chapter, nothing more delightful than the armoring of the + Yankee and the outset and the wandering with Alisande. There is nothing + more powerful or inspiring than his splendid panoramic picture—of + the King learning mercy through his own degradation, his daily intercourse + with a band of manacled slaves; nothing more fiercely moving than that + fearful incident of the woman burned to warm those freezing chattels, or + than the great gallows scene, where the priest speaks for the young mother + about to pay the death penalty for having stolen a halfpenny's worth, that + her baby might have bread. Such things as these must save the book from + oblivion; but alas! its greater appeal is marred almost to ruin by coarse + and extravagant burlesque, which destroys illusion and antagonizes the + reader often at the very moment when the tale should fill him with a holy + fire of a righteous wrath against wrong. As an example of Mark Twain at + his literary worst and best the Yankee ranks supreme. It is unnecessary to + quote examples; one cannot pick up the volume and read ten pages of it, or + five pages, without finding them. In the midst of some exalted passage, + some towering sublimity, you are brought suddenly to earth with a phrase + which wholly destroys the illusion and the diviner purpose. Howells must + have observed these things, or was he so dazzled by the splendor of its + intent, its righteous charge upon the ranks of oppression, that he + regarded its offenses against art as unimportant. This is hard to explain, + for the very thing that would sustain such a great message and make it + permanent would be the care, the restraint, the artistic worthiness of its + construction. One must believe in a story like that to be convinced of its + logic. To lose faith in it—in its narrative—is absolutely + fatal to its purpose. The Yankee in King Arthur's Court not only offended + the English nation, but much of it offended the better taste of Mark + Twain's own countrymen, and in time it must have offended even Mark Twain + himself. Reading it, one can visualize the author as a careering charger, + with a bit in his teeth, trampling the poetry and the tradition of the + romantic days, the very things which he himself in his happier moods cared + for most. Howells likened him to Cervantes, laughing Spain's chivalry + away. The comparison was hardly justified. It was proper enough to laugh + chivalry out of court when it was a reality; but Mark Twain, who loved Sir + Thomas Malory to the end of his days, the beauty and poetry of his + chronicles; who had written 'The Prince and the Pauper', and would one day + write that divine tale of the 'Maid of Orleans'; who was himself no more + nor less than a knight always ready to redress wrong, would seem to have + been the last person to wish to laugh it out of romance. + </p> + <p> + And yet, when all is said, one may still agree with Howells in ranking the + Yankee among Mark Twain's highest achievements in the way of “a + greatly imagined and symmetrically developed tale.” It is of that + class, beyond doubt. Howells goes further: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Of all the fanciful schemes in fiction it pleases me most, and I + give myself with absolute delight to its notion of a keen East + Hartford Yankee finding himself, by a retroactionary spell, at the + court of King Arthur of Britain, and becoming part of the sixth + century with all the customs and ideas of the nineteenth in him and + about him. The field for humanizing satire which this scheme opens + is illimitable. +</pre> + <p> + Colossal it certainly is, as Howells and Stedman agreed: colossal in its + grotesqueness as in its sublimity. Howells, summarizing Mark Twain's gifts + (1901), has written: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He is apt to burlesque the lighter colloquiality, and it is only in + the more serious and most tragical junctures that his people utter + themselves with veracious simplicity and dignity. That great, burly + fancy of his is always tempting him to the exaggeration which is the + condition of so much of his personal humor, but which when it + invades the drama spoils the illusion. The illusion renews itself + in the great moments, but I wish it could be kept intact in the + small, and I blame him that he does not rule his fancy better. +</pre> + <p> + All of which applies precisely to the writing of the Yankee in King + Arthur's Court. Intended as a fierce heart-cry against human injustice—man's + inhumanity to man—as such it will live and find readers; but, more + than any other of Mark Twain's pretentious works, it needs editing—trimming + by a fond but relentless hand. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0179" id="link2H_4_0179"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLXXII. THE “YANKEE” IN ENGLAND + </h2> + <p> + The London publishers of the Yankee were keenly anxious to revise the text + for their English readers. Clemens wrote that he had already revised the + Yankee twice, that Stedman had critically read it, and that Mrs. Clemens + had made him strike out many passages and soften others. He added that he + had read chapters of it in public several times where Englishmen were + present and had profited by their suggestions. Then he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Now, mind you, I have taken all this pains because I wanted to say a + Yankee mechanic's say against monarchy and its several natural + props, and yet make a book which you would be willing to print + exactly as it comes to you, without altering a word. + + We are spoken of (by Englishmen) as a thin-skinned people. It is + you who are thin-skinned. An Englishman may write with the most + brutal frankness about any man or institution among us and we + republish him without dreaming of altering a line or a word. But + England cannot stand that kind of a book written about herself. It + is England that is thin-skinned. It causeth me to smile when I read + the modifications of my language which have been made in my English + editions to fit them for the sensitive English palate. + + Now, as I say, I have taken laborious pains to so trim this book of + offense that you'll not lack the nerve to print it just as it + stands. I am going to get the proofs to you just as early as I can. + I want you to read it carefully. If you can publish it without + altering a single word, go ahead. Otherwise, please hand it to + J. R. Osgood in time for him to have it published at my expense. + + This is important, for the reason that the book was not written for + America; it was written for England. So many Englishmen have done + their sincerest best to teach us something for our betterment that + it seems to me high time that some of us should substantially + recognize the good intent by trying to pry up the English nation to + a little higher level of manhood in turn. +</pre> + <p> + So the Yankee was published in England just as he had written it,—[The + preface was shortened and modified for both the American and English + editions. The reader will find it as originally written under Appendix S, + at the end of last volume.]—and the criticisms were as plentiful as + they were frank. It was referred to as a “lamentable failure” + and as an “audacious sacrilege” and in terms still less + polite. Not all of the English critics were violent. The Daily Telegraph + gave it something more than a column of careful review, which did not fail + to point out the book's sins with a good deal of justice and dignity; but + the majority of English papers joined in a sort of objurgatory chorus + which, for a time at least, spared neither the author nor his work. + Strictures on the Yankee extended to his earlier books. After all, Mark + Twain's work was not for the cultivated class. + </p> + <p> + These things must have begun to gravel Clemens a good deal at last, for he + wrote to Andrew Lang at considerable length, setting forth his case in + general terms—that is to say, his position as an author—inviting + Lang to stand as his advocate before the English public. In part he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The critic assumes every time that if a book doesn't meet the + cultivated-class standard it isn't valuable... The critic has + actually imposed upon the world the superstition that a painting by + Raphael is more valuable to the civilizations of the earth than is a + chromo; and the august opera more than the hurdy-gurdy and the + villagers' singing society; and the Latin classics than Kipling's + far-reaching bugle-note; and Jonathan Edwards than the Salvation + Army.... If a critic should start a religion it would not + have any object but to convert angels, and they wouldn't need it. + It is not that little minority who are already saved that are best + worth lifting up, I should think, but the mighty mass of the + uncultivated who are underneath! That mass will never see the old + masters—that sight is for the few; but the chromo-maker can lift + them all one step upward toward appreciation of art; they cannot + have the opera, but the hurdy-gurdy and the singing-class lift them + a little way toward that far height; they will never know Homer, but + the passing rhymester of their day leaves them higher than he found + them; they may never even hear of the Latin classics, but they will + strike step with Kipling's drum-beat and they will march; for all + Jonathan Edwards's help they would die in their slums, but the + Salvation Army will beguile some of them to a purer air and a + cleaner life. + + ... I have never tried, in even one single little instance, to + help cultivate the cultivated classes. I was not equipped for it + either by native gifts or training. And I never had any ambition in + that direction, but always hunted for bigger game—the masses. I + have seldom deliberately tried to instruct them, but I have done my + best to entertain them, for they can get instruction elsewhere.. + .. My audience is dumb; it has no voice in print, and so I cannot + know whether I have won its approval or only got its censure. +</pre> + <p> + He closed by asking that Lang urge the critics to adopt a rule recognizing + the masses, and to formulate a standard whereby work done for them might + be judged. “No voice can reach further than yours in a case of this + kind,” he said, “or carry greater weight of authority.” + There was no humor in this letter, and the writer of it was clearly in + earnest. + </p> + <p> + Lang's response was an article published in the Illustrated London News on + the art of Mark Twain. He began by gently ridiculing hyperculture—the + new culture—and ended with a eulogy on Huck Finn. It seems worth + while, however, to let Andrew Lang speak for himself. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have been educated till I nearly dropped; I have lived with the + earliest apostles of culture, in the days when Chippendale was first + a name to conjure with, and Japanese art came in like a raging lion, + and Ronsard was the favorite poet, and Mr. William Morris was a + poet, too, and blue and green were the only wear, and the name of + Paradise was Camelot. To be sure, I cannot say that I took all this + quite seriously, but “we, too, have played” at it, and know all + about it. Generally speaking, I have kept up with culture. I can + talk (if desired) about Sainte-Beuve, and Merimee, and Felicien + Rops; I could rhyme “Ballades” when they were “in,” and knew what a + “pantoom” was.... And yet I have not culture. My works are + but tinkling brass because I have not culture. For culture has got + into new regions where I cannot enter, and, what is perhaps worse, + I find myself delighting in a great many things which are under the + ban of culture. +</pre> + <p> + He confesses that this is a dreadful position; one that makes a man feel + like one of those Liberal politicians who are always “sitting on the + fence,” and who follow their party, if follow it they do, with the + reluctant acquiescence of the prophet's donkey. He further confesses that + he has tried Hartmann and prefers Plato, that he is shaky about Blake, + though stalwart concerning Rudyard Kipling. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + This is not the worst of it. Culture has hardly a new idol but I + long to hurl things at it. Culture can scarcely burn anything, but + I am impelled to sacrifice to that same. I am coming to suspect + that the majority of culture's modern disciples are a mere crowd of + very slimly educated people who have no natural taste or impulses; + who do not really know the best things in literature; who have a + feverish desire to admire the newest thing, to follow the latest + artistic fashion; who prate about “style,” without the faintest + acquaintance with the ancient examples of style in Greek, French, or + English; who talk about the classics and—criticize the classical + critics and poets, without being able to read a line of them in the + original. Nothing of the natural man is left in these people; their + intellectual equipment is made up of ignorant vanity and eager + desire for novelty, and a yearning to be in the fashion. Take, for + example—and we have been a long time in coming to him—Mark Twain. + [Here follow some observations concerning the Yankee, which Lang + confesses that he has not read, and has abstained from reading + because——]. Here Mark Twain is not, and cannot be, at the proper + point of view. He has not the knowledge which would enable him to + be a sound critic of the ideals of the Middle Ages. An Arthurian + Knight in New York or in Washington would find as much to blame, and + justly, as a Yankee at Camelot. +</pre> + <p> + Of Mark Twain's work in general he speaks with another conclusion: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mark Twain is a benefactor beyond most modern writers, and the + cultured who do not laugh are merely to be pitied. But his art is + not only that of the maker of the scarce article—mirth. I have no + hesitation in saying that Mark Twain is one among the greatest + contemporary makers of fiction.... I can never forget or be + ungrateful for the exquisite pleasure with which I read Huckleberry + Finn for the first time years ago. I read it again last night, + deserting Kenilworth for Huck. I never laid it down till I had + finished it. I perused several passages more than once, and rose + from it with a higher opinion of its merits than ever. + + What is it that we want in a novel? We want a vivid and original + picture of life; we want character naturally displayed in action; + and if we get the excitement of adventure into the bargain, and that + adventure possible and plausible, I so far differ from the newest + school of criticism as to think that we have additional cause for + gratitude. If, moreover, there is an unstrained sense of humor in + the narrator we have a masterpiece, and Huckleberry Finn is, nothing + less. +</pre> + <p> + He reviews Huck sympathetically in detail, and closes: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There are defects of taste, or passages that to us seem deficient in + taste, but the book remains a nearly flawless gem of romance and of + humor. The world appreciates it, no doubt, but “cultured critics” + are probably unaware of its singular value. The great American + novel has escaped the eyes of those who watch to see this new planet + swim into their ken. And will Mark Twain never write such another? + One is enough for him to live by, and for our gratitude, but not + enough for our desire. +</pre> + <p> + In the brief column and a half which it occupies, this comment of Andrew + Lang's constitutes as thoughtful and fair an estimate of Mark Twain's work + as was ever written. + </p> + <p> + W. T. Stead, of the Review of Reviews, was about the only prominent + English editor to approve of the Yankee and to exploit its merits. Stead + brought down obloquy upon himself by so doing, and his separation from his + business partner would seem to have been at least remotely connected with + this heresy. + </p> + <p> + The Yankee in King Arthur's Court was dramatized in America by Howard + Taylor, one of the Enterprise compositors, whom Clemens had known in the + old Comstock days. Taylor had become a playwright of considerable success, + with a number of well-known actors and actresses starring in his plays. + The Yankee, however, did not find a manager, or at least it seems not to + have reached the point of production. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0180" id="link2H_4_0180"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLXXIII. A SUMMER AT ONTEORA + </h2> + <p> + With the exception of one article—“A Majestic Literary Fossil”—[Harper's + Magazine, February, 1890. Included in the “Complete Works.”]—Clemens + was writing nothing of importance at this time. This article grew out of a + curious old medical work containing absurd prescriptions which, with + Theodore Crane, he had often laughed over at the farm. A sequel to + Huckleberry Finn—Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer Among the Indians—was + begun, and a number of its chapters were set in type on the new Paige + compositor, which had cost such a gallant sum, and was then thought to be + complete. There seems to have been a plan to syndicate the story, but at + the end of Chapter IX Huck and Tom had got themselves into a predicament + from which it seemed impossible to extricate them, and the plot was + suspended for further inspiration, which apparently never came. + </p> + <p> + Clemens, in fact, was troubled with rheumatism in his arm and shoulder, + which made writing difficult. Mrs. Clemens, too, had twinges of the + malady. They planned to go abroad for the summer of 1890, to take the + waters of some of the German baths, but they were obliged to give up the + idea. There were too many business complications; also the health of + Clemens's mother had become very feeble. They went to Tannersville in the + Catskills, instead—to the Onteora Club, where Mrs. Candace Wheeler + had gathered a congenial colony in a number of picturesque cottages, with + a comfortable hotel for the more transient visitor. The Clemenses secured + a cottage for the season. Mrs. Mary Mapes Dodge, Laurence Hutton, Carroll + Beckwith, the painter; Brander Matthews, Dr. Heber Newton, Mrs. Custer, + and Dora Wheeler were among those who welcomed Mark Twain and his family + at a generous home-made banquet. + </p> + <p> + It was the beginning of a happy summer. There was a constant visiting from + one cottage to another, with frequent assemblings at the Bear and Fox Inn, + their general headquarters. There were pantomimes and charades, in which + Mark Twain and his daughters always had star parts. Susy Clemens, who was + now eighteen, brilliant and charming, was beginning to rival her father as + a leader of entertainment. Her sister Clara gave impersonations of + Modjeska and Ada Rehan. When Fourth of July came there were burlesque + races, of which Mark Twain was starter, and many of that lighthearted + company took part. Sometimes, in the evening, they gathered in one of the + cottages and told stories by the firelight, and once he told the story of + the Golden Arm, so long remembered, and brought them up with the same old + jump at the sudden climax. Brander Matthews remembers that Clemens was + obliged frequently to go to New York on business connected with the + machine and the publishing, and that during one of these absences a + professional entertainer came along, and in the course of his program told + a Mark Twain story, at which Mrs. Clemens and the girls laughed without + recognizing its authorship. Matthews also remembers Jean, as a little girl + of ten, allowed to ride a pony and to go barefoot, to her great delight, + full of health and happiness, a favorite of the colony. + </p> + <p> + Clemens would seem to have forgiven Brander Matthews for his copyright + articles, for he walked over to the Matthews cottage one morning and asked + to be taught piquet, the card game most in vogue there that season. At odd + times he sat to Carroll Beckwith for his portrait, and smoked a cob pipe + meantime, so Beckwith painted him in that way. + </p> + <p> + It was a season that closed sadly. Clemens was called to Keokuk in August, + to his mother's bedside, for it was believed that her end was near. She + rallied, and he returned to Onteora. But on the 27th of October came the + close of that long, active life, and the woman who two generations before + had followed John Clemens into the wilderness, and along the path of + vicissitude, was borne by her children to Hannibal and laid to rest at his + side. She was in her eighty-eighth year. + </p> + <p> + The Clemens family were back in Hartford by this time, and it was only a + little later that Mrs. Clemens was summoned to the death-bed of her own + mother, in Elmira. Clemens accompanied her, but Jean being taken suddenly + ill he returned to Hartford. Watching by the little girl's bedside on the + night of the 27th of November, he wrote Mrs. Clemens a birthday letter, + telling of Jean's improved condition and sending other good news and as + many loving messages as he could devise. But it proved a sad birthday for + Mrs. Clemens, for on that day her mother's gentle and beautiful soul went + out from among them. The foreboding she had felt at the passing of + Theodore Crane had been justified. She had a dread that the harvest of + death was not yet ended. Matters in general were going badly with them, + and an anxiety began to grow to get away from America, and so perhaps + leave sorrow and ill-luck behind. Clemens, near the end of December, + writing to his publishing manager, Hall, said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Merry Christmas to you, and I wish to God I could have one myself + before I die. +</pre> + <p> + The house was emptier that winter than before, for Susy was at Bryn Mawr. + Clemens planned some literary work, but the beginning, after his long + idleness, was hard. A diversion was another portrait of himself, this time + undertaken by Charles Noel Flagg. Clemens rather enjoyed + portrait-sittings. He could talk and smoke, and he could incidentally + acquire information. He liked to discuss any man's profession with him, + and in his talks with Flagg he made a sincere effort to get that insight + which would enable him to appreciate the old masters. Flagg found him a + tractable sitter, and a most interesting one. Once he paid him a + compliment, then apologized for having said the obvious thing. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind the apology,” said Clemens. “The compliment + that helps us on our way is not the one that is shut up in the mind, but + the one that is spoken out.” + </p> + <p> + When Flagg's portrait was about completed, Mrs. Clemens and Mrs. Crane + came to the studio to look at it. Mrs. Clemens complained only that the + necktie was crooked. + </p> + <p> + “But it's always crooked,” said Flagg, “and I have a + great fancy for the line it makes.” + </p> + <p> + She straightened it on Clemens himself, but it immediately became crooked + again. Clemens said: + </p> + <p> + “If you were to make that necktie straight people would say; 'Good + portrait, but there is something the matter with it. I don't know where it + is.'” + </p> + <p> + The tie was left unchanged. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0181" id="link2H_4_0181"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLXXIV. THE MACHINE + </h2> + <p> + The reader may have realized that by the beginning of 1891 Mark Twain's + finances were in a critical condition. The publishing business had managed + to weather along. It was still profitable, and could have been made much + more so if the capital necessary to its growth had not been continuously + and relentlessly absorbed by that gigantic vampire of inventions—that + remorseless Frankenstein monster—the machine. + </p> + <p> + The beginning of this vast tragedy (for it was no less than that) dated as + far back as 1880, when Clemens one day had taken a minor and purely + speculative interest in patent rights, which was to do away with setting + type by hand. In some memoranda which he made more than ten years later, + when the catastrophe was still a little longer postponed, he gave some + account of the matter. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + This episode has now spread itself over more than one-fifth of my + life, a considerable stretch of time, as I am now 55 years old. + + Ten or eleven years ago Dwight Buell, a jeweler, called at our house + and was shown up to the billiard-room-which was my study; and the + game got more study than the other sciences. He wanted me to take + some stock in a type-setting machine. He said it was at the Colt's + Arms factory, and was about finished. I took $2,000 of the stock. + I was always taking little chances like that, and almost always + losing by it, too. Some time afterward I was invited to go down to + the factory and see the machine. I went, promising myself nothing, + for I knew all about type-setting by practical experience, and held + the settled and solidified opinion that a successful type-setting + machine was an impossibility, for the reason that a machine cannot + be made to think, and the thing that sets movable type must think or + retire defeated. So, the performance I witnessed did most + thoroughly amaze me. Here was a machine that was really setting + type, and doing it with swiftness and accuracy, too. Moreover, it + was distributing its case at the same time. The distribution was + automatic; the machine fed itself from a galley of dead matter and + without human help or suggestion, for it began its work of its own + accord when the type channels needed filling, and stopped of its own + accord when they were full enough. The machine was almost a + complete compositor; it lacked but one feature—it did not “justify” + the lines. This was done by the operator's assistant. + + I saw the operator set at the rate of 3,000 ems an hour, which, + counting distribution, was but little short of four casemen's work. + William Hamersley was there. He said he was already a considerable + owner, and was going to take as much more of the stock as he could + afford. Wherefore, I set down my name for an additional $3,000. It + is here that the music begins. +</pre> + <p> + It was the so-called Farnham machine that he saw, invented by James W. + Paige, and if they had placed it on the market then, without waiting for + the inventor to devise improvements, the story might have been a different + one. But Paige was never content short of absolute perfection—a + machine that was not only partly human, but entirely so. Clemens' used to + say later that the Paige type-setter would do everything that a human + being could do except drink and swear and go on a strike. He might + properly have omitted the last item, but of that later. Paige was a small, + bright-eyed, alert, smartly dressed man, with a crystal-clear mind, but a + dreamer and a visionary. Clemens says of him: “He is a poet; a most + great and genuine poet, whose sublime creations are written in steel.” + </p> + <p> + It is easy to see now that Mark Twain and Paige did not make a good + business combination. When Paige declared that, wonderful as the machine + was, he could do vastly greater things with it, make it worth many more + and much larger fortunes by adding this attachment and that, Clemens was + just the man to enter into his dreams and to furnish the money to realize + them. Paige did not require much money at first, and on the capital + already invested he tinkered along with his improvements for something + like four or five years; Hamersley and Clemens meantime capitalizing the + company and getting ready to place the perfected invention on the market. + By the time the Grant episode had ended Clemens had no reason to believe + but that incalculable wealth lay just ahead, when the newspapers should be + apprised of the fact that their types were no longer to be set by hand. + Several contracts had been made with Paige, and several new attachments + had been added to the machine. It seemed to require only one thing more, + the justifier, which would save the labor of the extra man. Paige could be + satisfied with nothing short of that, even though the extra man's wage was + unimportant. He must have his machine do it all, and meantime five + precious years had slipped away. Clemens, in his memoranda, says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + End of 1885. Paige arrives at my house unheralded. I had seen + little or nothing of him for a year or two. He said: + + “What will you complete the machine for?” + + “What will it cost?” + + “Twenty thousand dollars; certainly not over $30,000.” + + “What will you give?” + + “I'll give you half.” + </pre> + <p> + Clemens was “flush” at this time. His reading tour with Cable, + the great sale of Huck Finn, the prospect of the Grant book, were rosy + realities. He said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I'll do it, but the limit must be $30,000.” + </pre> + <p> + They agreed to allow Hamersley a tenth interest for the money he had + already invested and for legal advice. + </p> + <p> + Hamersley consented readily enough, and when in February, 1886, the new + contract was drawn they believed themselves heir to the millions of the + Fourth Estate. + </p> + <p> + By this time F. G. Whitmore had come into Clemens's business affairs, and + he did not altogether approve of the new contract. Among other things, it + required that Clemens should not only complete the machine, but promote + it, capitalize it commercially. Whitmore said: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Clemens, that clause can bankrupt you.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens answered: “Never mind that, Whitmore; I've considered that. + I can get a thousand men worth a million apiece to go in with me if I can + get a perfect machine.” + </p> + <p> + He immediately began to calculate the number of millions he would be worth + presently when the machine was completed and announced to the waiting + world. He covered pages with figures that never ran short of millions, and + frequently approached the billion mark. Colonel Sellers in his happiest + moments never dreamed more lavishly. He obtained a list of all the + newspapers in the United States and in Europe, and he counted up the + machines that would be required by each. To his nephew, Sam Moffett, + visiting him one day, he declared that it would take ten men to count the + profits from the typesetter. He realized clearly enough that a machine + which would set and distribute type and do the work of half a dozen men or + more would revolutionize type composition. The fact that other inventors + besides Paige were working quite as diligently and perhaps toward more + simple conclusions did not disturb him. Rumors came of the Rogers machine + and the Thorne machine and the Mergenthaler linotype, but Mark Twain only + smiled. When the promoters of the Mergenthaler offered to exchange half + their interests for a half interest in the Paige patent, to obtain thereby + a wider insurance of success, it only confirmed his trust, and he let the + golden opportunity go by. + </p> + <p> + Clemens thinks the thirty thousand dollars lasted about a year. Then Paige + confessed that the machine was still incomplete, but he said that four + thousand dollars more would finish it, and that with ten thousand dollars + he could finish it and give a big exhibition in New York. He had discarded + the old machine altogether, it seems, and at Pratt & Whitney's shops + was building a new one from the ground up—a machine of twenty + thousand minutely exact parts, each of which must be made by expert hand + workmanship after elaborate drawings and patterns even more expensive. It + was an undertaking for a millionaire. + </p> + <p> + Paige offered to borrow from Clemens the amount needed, offering the + machine as security. Clemens supplied the four thousand dollars, and + continued to advance money from time to time at the rate of three to four + thousand dollars a month, until he had something like eighty thousand + dollars invested, with the machine still unfinished. This would be early + in 1888, by which time other machines had reached a state of completion + and were being placed on the market. The Mergenthaler, in particular, was + attracting wide attention. Paige laughed at it, and Clemens, too, regarded + it as a joke. The moment their machine was complete all other machines + would disappear. Even the fact that the Tribune had ordered twenty-three + of the linotypes, and other journals were only waiting to see the paper in + its new dress before ordering, did not disturb them. Those linotypes would + all go into the scrap-heap presently. It was too bad people would waste + their money so. In January, 1888, Paige promised that the machine would be + done by the 1st of April. On the 1st of April he promised it for + September, but in October he acknowledged there were still eighty-five + days' work to be done on it. In November Clemens wrote to Orion: + </p> + <p> + The machine is apparently almost done—but I take no privileges on + that account; it must be done before I spend a cent that can be avoided. I + have kept this family on very short commons for two years and they must go + on scrimping until the machine is finished, no matter how long that may + be. + </p> + <p> + By the end of '88 the income from the books and the business and Mrs. + Clemens's Elmira investments no longer satisfied the demands of the + type-setter, in addition to the household expense, reduced though the + latter was; and Clemens began by selling and hypothecating his marketable + securities. The whole household interest by this time centered in the + machine. What the Tennessee land had been to John and Jane Clemens and + their children, the machine had now become to Samuel Clemens and his + family. “When the machine is finished everything will be all right + again” afforded the comfort of that long-ago sentence, “When + the Tennessee land is sold.” + </p> + <p> + They would have everything they wanted then. Mrs. Clemens planned + benefactions, as was her wont. Once she said to her sister: + </p> + <p> + “How strange it will seem to have unlimited means, to be able to do + whatever you want to do, to give whatever you want to give without + counting the cost.” + </p> + <p> + Straight along through another year the three thousand dollars and more a + month continued, and then on the 5th of January, 1889, there came what + seemed the end—the machine and justifier were complete! In his + notebook on that day Mark Twain set down this memorandum: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + EUREKA! + + Saturday, January 5, 1889-12.20 P.M. At this moment I have seen a + line of movable type spaced and justified by machinery! This is the + first time in the history of the world that this amazing thing has + ever been done. Present: + J. W. Paige, the inventor; + Charles Davis, | Mathematical assistants + Earll | & mechanical + Graham | experts + Bates, foreman, and S. L. Clemens. + This record is made immediately after the prodigious event. +</pre> + <p> + Two days later he made another note: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Monday, January 7—4.45 P.m. The first proper name ever set by this + new keyboard was William Shakspeare. I set it at the above hour; & + I perceive, now that I see the name written, that I either + misspelled it then or I've misspelled it now. + + The space-bar did its duty by the electric connections & steam & + separated the two words preparatory to the reception of the space. +</pre> + <p> + It seemed to him that his troubles were at an end. He wrote overflowing + letters, such as long ago he had written about his first mining claims, to + Orion and to other members of the family and to friends in America and + Europe. One of these letters, written to George Standring, a London + printer and publisher, also an author, will serve as an example. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The machine is finished! An hour and forty minutes ago a line of + movable type was spaced and justified by machinery for the first + time in the history of the world. And I was there to see. + + That was the final function. I had before seen the machine set + type, automatically, and distribute type, and automatically + distribute its eleven different thicknesses of spaces. So now I + have seen the machine, operated by one individual, do the whole + thing, and do it a deal better than any man at the case can do it. + + This is by far and away the most marvelous invention ever contrived + by man. And it is not a thing of rags and patches; it is made of + massive steel, and will last a century. + + She will do the work of six men, and do it better than any six men + that ever stood at a case. + + The death-warrant of all other type-setting machines in this world + was signed at 12.20 this afternoon, when that first line was shot + through this machine and came out perfectly spaced and justified. + And automatically, mind you. + + There was a speck of invisible dirt on one of those nonpareil types. + Well, the machine allowed for that by inserting of its own accord a + space which was the 5-1,000 of an inch thinner than it would have + used if the dirt had been absent. But when I send you the details + you will see that that's nothing for this machine to do; you'll see + that it knows more and has got more brains than all the printers in + the world put together. +</pre> + <p> + His letter to Orion was more technical, also more jubilant. At the end he + said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + All the witnesses made written record of the immense historical + birth—the first justification of a line of movable type by + machinery—& also set down the hour and the minute. Nobody had + drank anything, & yet everybody seemed drunk. Well-dizzy, + stupefied, stunned. + + All the other wonderful inventions of the human brain sink pretty + nearly into commonplaces contrasted with this awful mechanical + miracle. Telephones, telegraphs, locomotives, cotton-gins, sewing- + machines, Babbage calculators, jacquard looms, perfecting presses, + all mere toys, simplicities! The Paige Compositor marches alone and + far in the land of human inventions. +</pre> + <p> + In one paragraph of Orion's letter he refers to the machine as a “cunning + devil, knowing more than any man that ever lived.” That was a + profound truth, though not as he intended it. That creation of James + Paige's brain reflected all the ingenuity and elusiveness of its creator, + and added something on its own account. It was discovered presently that + it had a habit of breaking the types. Paige said it was a trifling thing: + he could fix it, but it meant taking down the machine, and that deadly + expense of three thousand or four thousand dollars a month for the band of + workmen and experts in Pratt & Whitney's machine shops did not cease. + In February the machine was again setting and justifying type “to a + hair,” and Whitmore's son, Fred, was running it at a rate of six + thousand ems an hour, a rate of composition hitherto unknown in the + history of the world. His speed was increased to eight thousand ems an + hour by the end of the year, and the machine was believed to have a + capacity of eleven thousand. No type-setter invented to this day could + match it for accuracy and precision when it was in perfect order, but its + point of perfection was apparently a vanishing point. It would be just + reached, when it would suddenly disappear, and Paige would discover other + needed corrections. Once, when it was apparently complete as to every + detail; and running like a human thing, with such important customers as + the New York Herald and other great papers ready to place their orders, + Paige suddenly discovered that it required some kind of an air-blast, and + it was all taken down again and the air-blast, which required months to + invent and perfect, was added. + </p> + <p> + But what is the use of remembering all these bitter details? The steady + expense went on through another year, apparently increasing instead of + diminishing, until, by the beginning of 1890, Clemens was finding it + almost impossible to raise funds to continue the work. Still he struggled + on. It was the old mining fascination—“a foot farther into the + ledge and we shall strike the vein of gold.” + </p> + <p> + He sent for Joe Goodman to come and help him organize a capital-stock + company, in which Senator Jones and John Mackay, old Comstock friends, + were to be represented. He never for a moment lost faith in the final + outcome, and he believed that if they could build their own factory the + delays and imperfections of construction would be avoided. Pratt & + Whitney had been obliged to make all the parts by hand. With their own + factory the new company would have vast and perfect machinery dedicated + entirely to the production of type-setters. + </p> + <p> + Nothing short of two million dollars capitalization was considered, and + Goodman made at least three trips from California to the East and labored + with Jones and Mackay all that winter and at intervals during the + following year, through which that “cunning devil,” the + machine, consumed its monthly four thousand dollars—money that was + the final gleanings and sweepings of every nook and corner of the + strong-box and bank-account and savings of the Clemens family resources. + With all of Mark Twain's fame and honors his life at this period was far + from an enviable one. It was, in fact, a fevered delirium, often a + veritable nightmare. + </p> + <p> + Reporters who approached him for interviews, little guessing what he was + passing through, reported that Mark Twain's success in life had made him + crusty and sour. + </p> + <p> + Goodman remembers that when they were in Washington, conferring with + Jones, and had rooms at the Arlington, opening together, often in the + night he would awaken to see a light burning in the next room and to hear + Mark Twain's voice calling: + </p> + <p> + “Joe, are you awake?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mark, what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing, only I can't sleep. Won't you talk awhile? I know it's + wrong to disturb you, but I am so d—d miserable that I can't help + it.” + </p> + <p> + Whereupon he would get up and talk and talk, and pace the floor and curse + the delays until he had refreshed himself, and then perhaps wallow in + millions until breakfast-time. + </p> + <p> + Jones and Mackay, deeply interested, were willing to put up a reasonable + amount of money, but they were unable to see a profit in investing so + large a capital in a plant for constructing the machines. + </p> + <p> + Clemens prepared estimates showing that the American business alone would + earn thirty-five million dollars a year, and the European business twenty + million dollars more. These dazzled, but they did not convince the + capitalists. Jones was sincerely anxious to see the machine succeed, and + made an engagement to come out to see it work, but a day or two before he + was to come Paige was seized with an inspiration. The type-setter was all + in parts when the day came, and Jones's visit had to be postponed. Goodman + wrote that the fatal delay had “sicklied over the bloom” of + Jones's original enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + Yet Clemens seems never to have been openly violent with Paige. In the + memorandum which he completed about this time he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Paige and I always meet on effusively affectionate terms, and yet he + knows perfectly well that if I had him in a steel trap I would shut + out all human succor and watch that trap until he died. +</pre> + <p> + He was grabbing at straws now. He offered a twentieth or a hundredth or a + thousandth part of the enterprise for varying sums, ranging from one + thousand to one hundred thousand dollars. He tried to capitalize his + advance (machine) royalties, and did dispose of a few of these; but when + the money came in for them he was beset by doubts as to the final outcome, + and though at his wit's ends for further funds, he returned the checks to + the friends who had sent them. One five-thousand-dollar check from a + friend named Arnot, in Elmira, went back by the next mail. He was willing + to sacrifice his own last penny, but he could not take money from those + who were blindly backing his judgment only and not their own. He still had + faith in Jones, faith which lasted up to the 13th of February, 1891. Then + came a final letter, in which Jones said that he had canvassed the + situation thoroughly with such men as Mackay, Don Cameron, Whitney, and + others, with the result that they would have nothing to do with the + machine. Whitney and Cameron, he said, were large stockholders in the + Mergenthaler. Jones put it more kindly and more politely than that, and + closed by saying that there could be no doubt as to the machine's future + —an ambiguous statement. A letter from young Hall came about the + same time, urging a heavy increase of capital in the business. The Library + of American Literature, its leading feature, was handled on the instalment + plan. The collections from this source were deferred driblets, while the + bills for manufacture and promotion must be paid down in cash. Clemens + realized that for the present at least the dream was ended. The family + securities were exhausted. The book trade was dull; his book royalties + were insufficient even to the demands of the household. He signed further + notes to keep business going, left the matter of the machine in abeyance, + and turned once more to the trade of authorship. He had spent in the + neighborhood of one hundred and ninety thousand dollars on the typesetter—money + that would better have been thrown into the Connecticut River, for then + the agony had been more quickly over. As it was, it had shadowed many + precious years. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0182" id="link2H_4_0182"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLXXV. “THE CLAIMANT”—LEAVING HARTFORD + </h2> + <p> + For the first time in twenty years Mark Twain was altogether dependent on + literature. He did not feel mentally unequal to the new problem; in fact, + with his added store of experience, he may have felt himself more fully + equipped for authorship than ever before. It had been his habit to write + within his knowledge and observation. To a correspondent of this time he + reviewed his stock in trade— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ... I confine myself to life with which I am familiar when + pretending to portray life. But I confined myself to the boy-life + out on the Mississippi because that had a peculiar charm for me, and + not because I was not familiar with other phases of life. I was a + soldier two weeks once in the beginning of the war, and was hunted + like a rat the whole time. Familiar? My splendid Kipling himself + hasn't a more burnt-in, hard-baked, and unforgetable familiarity + with that death-on-the-pale-horse-with-hell-following-after, which + is a raw soldier's first fortnight in the field—and which, without + any doubt, is the most tremendous fortnight and the vividest he is + ever going to see. + + Yes, and I have shoveled silver tailings in a quartz-mill a couple + of weeks, and acquired the last possibilities of culture in that + direction. And I've done “pocket-mining” during three months in the + one little patch of ground in the whole globe where Nature conceals + gold in pockets—or did before we robbed all of those pockets and + exhausted, obliterated, annihilated the most curious freak Nature + ever indulged in. There are not thirty men left alive who, being + told there was a pocket hidden on the broad slope of a mountain, + would know how to go and find it, or have even the faintest idea of + how to set about it; but I am one of the possible 20 or 30 who + possess the secret, and I could go and put my hand on that hidden + treasure with a most deadly precision. + + And I've been a prospector, and know pay rock from poor when I find + it—just with a touch of the tongue. And I've been a silver miner + and know how to dig and shovel and drill and put in a blast. And so + I know the mines and the miners interiorly as well as Bret Harte + knows them exteriorly. + + And I was a newspaper reporter four years in cities, and so saw the + inside of many things; and was reporter in a legislature two + sessions and the same in Congress one session, and thus learned to + know personally three sample bodies of the smallest minds and the + selfishest souls and the cowardliest hearts that God makes. + + And I was some years a Mississippi pilot, and familiarly knew all + the different kinds of steamboatmen—a race apart, and not like + other folk. + + And I was for some years a traveling “jour” printer, and wandered + from city to city—and so I know that sect familiarly. + + And I was a lecturer on the public platform a number of seasons and + was a responder to toasts at all the different kinds of banquets + —and so I know a great many secrets about audiences—secrets not to + be got out of books, but only acquirable by experience. + + And I watched over one dear project of mine for years, spent a + fortune on it, and failed to make it go—and the history of that + would make a large book in which a million men would see themselves + as in a mirror; and they would testify and say, Verily, this is not + imagination; this fellow has been there—and after would they cast + dust upon their heads, cursing and blaspheming. + + And I am a publisher, and did pay to one author's widow (General + Grant's) the largest copyright checks this world has seen + —aggregating more than L80,000 in the first year. + + And I have been an author for 20 years and an ass for 55. + + Now then: as the most valuable capital or culture or education + usable in the building of novels is personal experience I ought to + be well equipped for that trade. + + I surely have the equipment, a wide culture, and all of it real, + none of it artificial, for I don't know anything about books. +</pre> + <p> + This generous bill of literary particulars was fully warranted. Mark + Twain's equipment was equal to his occasions. It is true that he was no + longer young, and that his health was not perfect, but his resolution and + his energy had not waned. + </p> + <p> + His need was imminent and he lost no time. He dug out from his pigeonholes + such materials as he had in stock, selecting a few completed manuscripts + for immediate disposal—among them his old article entitled, “Mental + Telegraphy,” written in 1878, when he had hesitated to offer it, in + the fear that it would not be accepted by the public otherwise than as a + joke. He added to it now a supplement and sent it to Mr. Alden, of + Harper's Magazine. + </p> + <p> + Psychic interest had progressed in twelve years; also Mark Twain had come + to be rather more seriously regarded. The article was accepted promptly!—[The + publication of this article created a good deal of a stir and resulted in + the first general recognition of what later became known as Telepathy. A + good many readers insisted on regarding the whole matter as one of Mark + Twain's jokes, but its serious acceptance was much wider.]—The old + sketch, “Luck,” also found its way to Harper's Magazine, and + other manuscripts were looked over and furbished up with a view to their + disposal. Even the history game was dragged from the dust of its + retirement, and Hall was instructed to investigate its chance of profit. + </p> + <p> + Then Mark Twain went to work in earnest. Within a week after the collapse + of the Jones bubble he was hard at work on a new book—the + transmigration of the old “Claimant” play into a novel. + </p> + <p> + Ever since the appearance of the Yankee there had been what was evidently + a concerted movement to induce him to write a novel with the theories of + Henry George as the central idea. Letters from every direction had urged + him to undertake such a story, and these had suggested a more serious + purpose for the Claimant book. A motif in which there is a young lord who + renounces his heritage and class to come to America and labor with his + hands; who attends socialistic meetings at which men inspired by readings + of 'Progress and Poverty' and 'Looking Backward' address their brothers of + toil, could have in it something worth while. Clemens inserted portions of + some of his discarded essays in these addresses, and had he developed this + element further, and abandoned Colonel Sellers's materialization lunacies + to the oblivion they had earned, the result might have been more + fortunate. + </p> + <p> + But his faith in the new Sellers had never died, and the temptation to use + scenes from the abandoned play proved to be too strong to be resisted. The + result was incongruous enough. The author, however, admired it amazingly + at the time. He sent Howells stirring reports of his progress. He wrote + Hall that the book would be ready soon and that there must be seventy-five + thousand orders by the date of issue, “not a single one short of + that.” Then suddenly, at the end of February, the rheumatism came + back into his shoulder and right arm and he could hardly hold the pen. He + conceived the idea of dictating into a phonograph, and wrote Howells to + test this invention and find out as to terms for three months, with + cylinders enough to carry one hundred and seventy-five thousand words. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I don't want to erase any of them. My right arm is nearly disabled + by rheumatism, but I am bound to write this book (and sell 100,000 + copies of it-no, I mean 1,000,000—next fall). I feel sure I can + dictate the book into a phonograph if I don't have to yell. I write + 2,000 words a day. I think I can dictate twice as many. + + But mind, if this is going to be too much trouble to you—go ahead + and do it all the same. +</pre> + <p> + Howells replied encouragingly. He had talked a letter into a phonograph + and the phonograph man had talked his answer into it, after which the + cylinder had been taken to a typewriter in the-next room and correctly + written out. If a man had the “cheek” to dictate his story + into a phonograph, Howells said, all the rest seemed perfectly easy. + </p> + <p> + Clemens ordered a phonograph and gave it a pretty fair trial. It was only + a partial success. He said he couldn't write literature with it because it + hadn't any ideas or gift for elaboration, but was just as matter-of-fact, + compressive and unresponsive, grave and unsmiling as the devil—a + poor audience. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I filled four dozen cylinders in two sittings, then I found I could have + said it about as easy with the pen, and said it a deal better. Then I + resigned. + </pre> + <p> + He did not immediately give it up. To relieve his aching arm he alternated + the phonograph with the pen, and the work progressed rapidly. Early in May + he was arranging for its serial disposition, and it was eventually sold + for twelve thousand dollars to the McClure Syndicate, who placed it with a + number of papers in America and with the Idler Magazine in England. W. M. + Laffan, of the Sun, an old and tried friend, combined with McClure in the + arrangement. Laffan also proposed to join with McClure in paying Mark + Twain a thousand dollars each for a series of six European letters. This + was toward the end of May, 1891, when Clemens had already decided upon a + long European sojourn. + </p> + <p> + There were several reasons why this was desirable. Neither Clemens nor his + wife was in good health. Both of them were troubled with rheumatism, and a + council of physicians had agreed that Mrs. Clemens had some disturbance of + the heart. The death of Charles L. Webster in April—the fourth death + among relatives in two years—had renewed her forebodings. Susy, who + had been at Bryn Mawr, had returned far from well. The European baths and + the change of travel it was believed would be beneficial to the family + health. Furthermore, the maintenance of the Hartford home was far too + costly for their present and prospective income. The house with its + associations of seventeen incomparable years must be closed. A great + period had ended. + </p> + <p> + They arranged to sail on the 6th of June by the French line.—[On the + Gascogne.]—Mrs. Crane was to accompany them, and came over in April + to help in breaking the news to the servants. John and Ellen O'Neill (the + gardener and his wife) were to remain in charge; places were found for + George and Patrick. Katie Leary was retained to accompany the family. It + was a sad dissolution. + </p> + <p> + The day came for departure and the carriage was at the door. Mrs. Clemens + did not come immediately. She was looking into the rooms, bidding a kind + of silent good-by to the home she had made and to all its memories. + Following the others she entered the carriage, and Patrick McAleer drove + them together for the last time. They were going on a long journey. They + did not guess how long, or that the place would never be home to them + again. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0183" id="link2H_4_0183"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLXXVI. A EUROPEAN SUMMER + </h2> + <p> + They landed at Havre and went directly to Paris, where they remained about + a week. From Paris Clemens wrote to Hall that a deal by which he had hoped + to sell out his interest in the type-setter to the Mallorys, of the + Churchman, had fallen through. + </p> + <p> + “Therefore,” he said, “you will have to modify your + instalment system to meet the emergency of a constipated purse; for if you + should need to borrow any more money I would not know how or where to + raise it.” + </p> + <p> + The Clemens party went to Geneva, then rested for a time at the baths of + Aix; from Aix to Bayreuth to attend the Wagner festival, and from Bayreuth + to Marienbad for further additions of health. Clemens began writing his + newspaper letters at Aix, the first of which consists of observations at + that “paradise of rheumatics.” This letter is really a careful + and faithful description of Aix-les-Bains, with no particular drift of + humor in it. He tells how in his own case the baths at first developed + plenty of pain, but that the subsequent ones removed almost all of it. + </p> + <p> + “I've got back the use of my arm the last few days, and I am going + away now,” he says, and concludes by describing the beautiful drives + and scenery about Aix—the pleasures to be found paddling on little + Lake Bourget and the happy excursions to Annecy. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + At the end of an hour you come to Annecy and rattle through its old + crooked lanes, built solidly up with curious old houses that are a + dream of the Middle Ages, and presently you come to the main object + of your trip—Lake Annecy. It is a revelation. It is a miracle. + It brings the tears to a body's eyes. It is so enchanting. That is + to say, it affects you just as all other things that you instantly + recognize as perfect affect you—perfect music, perfect eloquence, + perfect art, perfect joy, perfect grief. +</pre> + <p> + He was getting back into his old descriptive swing, but his dislike for + travel was against him, and he found writing the letters hard. From + Bayreuth he wrote “At the Shrine of St. Wagner,” one of the + best descriptions of that great musical festival that has been put into + words. He paid full tribute to the performance, also to the Wagner + devotion, confessing its genuineness. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + This opera of “Tristan and Isolde” last night broke the hearts of + all witnesses who were of the faith, and I know of some, and have + heard of many, who could not sleep after it, but cried the night + away. I feel strongly out of place here. Sometimes I feel like the + one sane person in the community of the mad; sometimes I feel like + the one blind man where all others see; the one groping savage in + the college of the learned, and always during service I feel like a + heretic in heaven. +</pre> + <p> + He tells how he really enjoyed two of the operas, and rejoiced in + supposing that his musical regeneration was accomplished and perfected; + but alas! he was informed by experts that those particular events were not + real music at all. Then he says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Well, I ought to have recognized the sign the old, sure sign that + has never failed me in matters of art. Whenever I enjoy anything in + art it means that it is mighty poor. The private knowledge of this + fact has saved me from going to pieces with enthusiasm in front of + many and many a chromo. However, my base instinct does bring me + profit sometimes; I was the only man out of 3,200 who got his money + back on those two operas. +</pre> + <p> + His third letter was from Marienbad, in Bohemia, another “health-factory,” + as he calls it, and is of the same general character as those preceding. + In his fourth letter he told how he himself took charge of the family + fortunes and became courier from Aix to Bayreuth. It is a very delightful + letter, most of it, and probably not greatly burlesqued or exaggerated in + its details. It is included now in the “Complete Works,” as + fresh and delightful as ever. They returned to Germany at the end of + August, to Nuremberg, which he notes as the “city of exquisite + glimpses,” and to Heidelberg, where they had their old apartment of + thirteen years before, Room 40 at the Schloss Hotel, with its wonderful + prospect of wood and hill, and the haze-haunted valley of the Rhine. They + remained less than a week in that beautiful place, and then were off for + Switzerland, Lucerne, Brienz, Interlaken, finally resting at the Hotel + Beau Rivage, Ouchy, Lausanne, on beautiful Lake Leman. + </p> + <p> + Clemens had agreed to write six of the newspaper letters, and he had by + this time finished five of them, the fifth being dated from Interlaken, + its subject, “Switzerland, the Cradle of Liberty.” He wrote to + Hall that it was his intention to write another book of travel and to take + a year or two to collect the material. The Century editors were after him + for a series after the style of Innocents Abroad. He considered this + suggestion, but declined by cable, explaining to Hall that he intended to + write for serial publication no more than the six newspaper letters. He + said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + To write a book of travel would be less trouble than to write six + detached chapters. Each of these letters requires the same variety + of treatment and subject that one puts into a book; but in the book + each chapter doesn't have to be rounded and complete in itself. +</pre> + <p> + He suggested that the six letters be gathered into a small volume which + would contain about thirty-five or forty thousand words, to be sold as low + as twenty-five cents, but this idea appears to have been dropped. + </p> + <p> + At Ouchy Clemens conceived the idea of taking a little trip on his own + account, an excursion that would be a rest after the strenuous three + months' travel and sightseeing—one that he could turn into + literature. He engaged Joseph Very, a courier used during their earlier + European travels, and highly recommended in the Tramp Abroad. He sent + Joseph over to Lake Bourget to engage a boat and a boatman for a ten days' + trip down the river Rhone. For five dollars Joseph bought a safe, + flat-bottom craft; also he engaged the owner as pilot. A few days later—September + 19—Clemens followed. They stopped overnight on an island in Lake + Bourget, and in his notes Clemens tells how he slept in the old castle of + Chatillon, in the room where a pope was born. They started on their drift + next morning. To Mrs. Clemens, in some good-by memoranda, he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The lake is as smooth as glass; a brilliant sun is shining. + + Our boat is so comfortable and shady with its awning. + + 11.20. We have crossed the lake and are entering the canal. Shall + presently be in the Rhone. + + Noon. Nearly down to the Rhone, passing the village of Chanaz. + + Sunday, 3.15 P.M. We have been in the Rhone three hours. It + is unimaginably still & reposeful & cool & soft & breezy. No rowing + or work of any kind to do—we merely float with the current we glide + noiseless and swift—as fast as a London cab-horse rips along—8 + miles an hour—the swiftest current I've ever boated in. We have the + entire river to ourselves nowhere a boat of any kind. +</pre> + <p> + Pleasant it must have been in the warm September days to go swinging down + that swift, gray stream which comes racing out of Switzerland into France, + fed from a thousand glaciers. He sent almost daily memoranda of his + progress. Half-way to Arles he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It's too delicious, floating with the swift current under the + awning these superb, sunshiny days in deep peace and quietness. + + Some of these curious old historical towns strangely persuade me, + but it is so lovely afloat that I don't stop, but view them from the + outside and sail on. We get abundance of grapes and peaches for + next to nothing. My, but that inn was suffocating with garlic where + we stayed last night! I had to hold my nose as we went up-stairs or + I believe I should have fainted. + + Little bit of a room, rude board floor unswept, 2 chairs, unpainted + white pine table—void the furniture! Had a good firm bed, solid as + a rock, & you could have brained an ox with the bolster. + + These six hours have been entirely delightful. I want to do all the + rivers of Europe in an open boat in summer weather. +</pre> + <p> + Still further along he described one of their shore accommodations. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Night caught us yesterday where we had to take quarters in a + peasant's house which was occupied by the family and a lot of cows & + calves, also several rabbits.—[His word for fleas. Neither fleas + nor mosquitoes ever bit him—probably because of his steady use of + tobacco.]—The latter had a ball & I was the ballroom; but they + were very friendly and didn't bite. + + The peasants were mighty kind and hearty & flew around & did their + best to make us comfortable. This morning I breakfasted on the + shore in the open air with two sociable dogs & a cat. Clean cloth, + napkins & table furniture, white sugar, a vast hunk of excellent + butter, good bread, first-class coffee with pure milk, fried fish + just caught. Wonderful that so much cleanliness should come out of + such a phenomenally dirty house. + + An hour ago we saw the Falls of the Rhone, a prodigiously rough and + dangerous-looking place; shipped a little water, but came to no + harm. It was one of the most beautiful pieces of piloting & boat + management I ever saw. Our admiral knew his business. + + We have had to run ashore for shelter every time it has rained + heretofore, but Joseph has been putting in his odd time making a + waterproof sun-bonnet for the boat, & now we sail along dry, + although we have had many heavy showers this morning. +</pre> + <p> + Here follows a pencil-drawing of the boat and its new awning, and he adds: + “I'm on the stern, under the shelter, and out of sight.” + </p> + <p> + The trip down the Rhone proved more valuable as an outing than as literary + material. Clemens covered one hundred and seventy-four pages with his + notes of it, then gave it up. Traveling alone with no one but Joseph and + the Admiral (former owner of the craft) was reposeful and satisfactory, + but it did not inspire literary flights. He tried to rectify the lack of + companionship by introducing fictitious characters, such as Uncle Abner, + Fargo, and Stavely, a young artist; also Harris, from the Tramp Abroad; + but Harris was not really there this time, and Mark Twain's genius, given + rather to elaboration than to construction, found it too severe a task to + imagine a string of adventures without at least the customary ten per + cent. of fact to build upon. + </p> + <p> + It was a day above Avignon that he had an experience worth while. They + were abreast of an old castle, nearing a village, one of the huddled + jumble of houses of that locality, when, glancing over his left shoulder + toward the distant mountain range, he received what he referred to later + as a soul-stirring shock. Pointing to the outline of the distant range he + said to the courier: + </p> + <p> + “Name it. Who is it?” + </p> + <p> + The courier said, “Napoleon.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens assented. The Admiral, when questioned, also promptly agreed that + the mountain outlined was none other than the reclining figure of the + great commander himself. They watched and discussed the phenomenon until + they reached the village. Next morning Clemens was up for a first daybreak + glimpse of his discovery. Later he reported it to Mrs. Clemens: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I did so long for you and Sue yesterday morning—the most superb + sunrise—the most marvelous sunrise—& I saw it all, from the very + faintest suspicion of the coming dawn, all the way through to the + final explosion of glory. But it had an interest private to itself + & not to be found elsewhere in the world; for between me & it, in + the far-distant eastward, was a silhouetted mountain range, in which + I had discovered, the previous afternoon, a most noble face upturned + to the sky, & mighty form outstretched, which I had named Napoleon + Dreaming of Universal Empire—& now this prodigious face, soft, + rich, blue, spirituelle, asleep, tranquil, reposeful, lay against + that giant conflagration of ruddy and golden splendors, all rayed + like a wheel with the up-streaming & far-reaching lances of the sun. + It made one want to cry for delight, it was so supreme in its + unimaginable majesty & beauty. +</pre> + <p> + He made a pencil-sketch of the Napoleon head in his note-book, and stated + that the apparition could be seen opposite the castle of Beauchastel; but + in later years his treacherous memory betrayed him, and, forgetting these + identifying marks, he told of it as lying a few hours above Arles, and + named it the “Lost Napoleon,” because those who set out to + find it did not succeed. He even wrote an article upon the subject, in + which he urged tourists to take steamer from Arles and make a short trip + upstream, keeping watch on the right-hand bank, with the purpose of + rediscovering the natural wonder. Fortunately this sketch was not + published. It would have been set down as a practical joke by disappointed + travelers. One of Mark Twain's friends, Mr. Theodore Stanton, made a + persistent effort to find the Napoleon, but with the wrong directions + naturally failed. + </p> + <p> + It required ten days to float to Arles. Then the current gave out and + Clemens ended the excursion and returned to Lausanne by rail. He said: + </p> + <p> + “It was twenty-eight miles to Marseilles, and somebody would have to + row. That would not have been pleasure; it would have meant work for the + sailor, and I do not like work even when another person does it.” + </p> + <p> + To Twichell in America he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + You ought to have been along—I could have made room for you easily, + & you would have found that a pedestrian tour in Europe doesn't + begin with a raft voyage for hilarity & mild adventure & intimate + contact with the unvisited native of the back settlements & + extinction from the world and newspapers & a conscience in a state + of coma & lazy comfort & solid happiness. In fact, there's nothing + that's so lovely. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + But it's all over. I gave the raft away yesterday at Arles & am + loafing along back by short stages on the rail to Ouchy, Lausanne, where + the tribe are staying at the Beau Rivage and are well and prosperous. + </pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0184" id="link2H_4_0184"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLXXVII. KORNERSTRASSE,7 + </h2> + <p> + They had decided to spend the winter in Berlin, and in October Mrs. + Clemens and Mrs. Crane, after some previous correspondence with an agent, + went up to that city to engage an apartment. The elevator had not reached + the European apartment in those days, and it was necessary, on Mrs. + Clemens's account, to have a ground floor. The sisters searched a good + while without success, and at last reached Kornerstrasse, a short, + secluded street, highly recommended by the agent. The apartment they + examined in Kornerstrasse was Number 7, and they were so much pleased with + the conveniences and comfort of it and so tired that they did not notice + closely its general social environment. The agent supplied an assortment + of furniture for a consideration, and they were soon settled in the + attractive, roomy place. Clemens and the children, arriving somewhat + later, expressed themselves as satisfied. + </p> + <p> + Their contentment was somewhat premature. When they began to go out + socially, which was very soon, and friends inquired as to their location, + they noticed that the address produced a curious effect. + Semi-acquaintances said, “Ah, yes, Kornerstrasse”; + acquaintances said, “Dear me, do you like it?” An old friend + exclaimed, “Good gracious! How in the world did you ever come to + locate there?” Then they began to notice what they had not at first + seen. Kornerstrasse was not disreputable, but it certainly was not + elegant. There were rag warehouses across the street and women who leaned + out the windows to gossip. The street itself was thronged with children. + They played on a sand pile and were often noisy and seldom clean. It was + eminently not the place for a distinguished man of letters. The family + began to be sensitive on the subject of their address. + </p> + <p> + Clemens, of course, made humor out of it. He wrote a newspaper letter on + the subject, a burlesque, naturally, which the family prevailed upon him + not to print. But the humiliation is out of it now, and a bit of its humor + may be preserved. He takes upon himself the renting of the place, and + pictures the tour of inspection with the agent's assistant. + </p> + <p> + He was greatly moved when they came to the street and said, softly and + lovingly: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Ah, Korner Street, Korner Street, why did I not think of you + before! A place fit for the gods, dear sir. Quiet?—notice how + still it is; and remember this is noonday—noonday. It is but one + block long, you see, just a sweet, dear little nest hid away here in + the heart of the great metropolis, its presence and its sacred quiet + unsuspected by the restless crowds that swarm along the stately + thoroughfares yonder at its two extremities. And——” + + “This building is handsome, but I don't think much of the others. + They look pretty commonplace, compared with the rest of Berlin.” + + “Dear! dear! have you noticed that? It is just an affectation of + the nobility. What they want——” + + “The nobility? Do they live in——” + + “In this street? That is good! very good, indeed! I wish the Duke + of Sassafras-Hagenstein could hear you say that. When the Duke + first moved in here he——” + + “Does he live in this street?” + + “Him! Well, I should say so! Do you see the big, plain house over + there with the placard in the third floor window? That's his + house.” + + “The placard that says 'Furnished rooms to let'? Does he keep + boarders?” + + “What an idea! Him! With a rent-roll of twelve hundred thousand + marks a year? Oh, positively this is too good.” + + “Well, what does he have that sign up for?” + + The assistant took me by the buttonhole & said, with a merry light + beaming in his eye: + + “Why, my dear sir, a person would know you are new to Berlin just by + your innocent questions. Our aristocracy, our old, real, genuine + aristocracy, are full of the quaintest eccentricities, + eccentricities inherited for centuries, eccentricities which they + are prouder of than they are of their titles, and that sign-board + there is one of them. They all hang them out. And it's regulated + by an unwritten law. A baron is entitled to hang out two, a count + five, a duke fifteen——” + + “Then they are all dukes over on that side, I sup——” + + “Every one of them. Now the old Duke of Backofenhofenschwartz not + the present Duke, but the last but one, he——” + + “Does he live over the sausage-shop in the cellar?” + + “No, the one farther along, where the eighteenth yellow cat is + chewing the door-mat——” + + “But all the yellow cats are chewing the door-mats.” + + “Yes, but I mean the eighteenth one. Count. No, never mind; + there's a lot more come. I'll get you another mark. Let me see—-” + </pre> + <p> + They could not remain permanently in Komerstrasse, but they stuck it out + till the end of December—about two months. Then they made such + settlement with the agent as they could—that is to say, they paid + the rest of their year's rent—and established themselves in a + handsome apartment at the Hotel Royal, Unter den Linden. There was no need + to be ashamed of this address, for it was one of the best in Berlin. + </p> + <p> + As for Komerstrasse, it is cleaner now. It is still not aristocratic, but + it is eminently respectable. There is a new post-office that takes in + Number 7, where one may post mail and send telegrams and use the + Fernsprecher—which is to say the telephone—and be politely + treated by uniformed officials, who have all heard of Mark Twain, but have + no knowledge of his former occupation of their premises. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0185" id="link2H_4_0185"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLXXVIII. A WINTER IN BERLIN + </h2> + <p> + Clemens, meantime, had been trying to establish himself in his work, but + his rheumatism racked him occasionally and was always a menace. Closing a + letter to Hall, he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I must stop-my arm is howling.” + </pre> + <p> + He put in a good deal of time devising publishing schemes, principal among + them being a plan for various cheap editions of his books, pamphlets, and + such like, to sell for a few cents. These projects appear never to have + been really undertaken, Hall very likely fearing that a flood of cheap + issues would interfere with the more important trade. It seemed dangerous + to trifle with an apparently increasing prosperity, and Clemens was + willing enough to agree with this view. + </p> + <p> + Clemens had still another letter to write for Laffan and McClure, and he + made a pretty careful study of Berlin with that end in view. But his arm + kept him from any regular work. He made notes, however. Once he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The first gospel of all monarchies should be Rebellion; the second + should be Rebellion; and the third and all gospels, and the only + gospel of any monarchy, should be Rebellion—against Church and + State. +</pre> + <p> + And again: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I wrote a chapter on this language 13 years ago and tried my level + best to improve it and simplify it for these people, and this is the + result—a word of thirty-nine letters. It merely concentrates the + alphabet with a shovel. It hurts me to know that that chapter is + not in any of their text-books and they don't use it in the + university. +</pre> + <p> + Socially, that winter in Berlin was eventful enough. William Walter + Phelps, of New Jersey (Clemens had known him in America), was United + States minister at the German capital, while at the Emperor's court there + was a cousin, Frau von Versen, nee Clemens, one of the St. Louis family. + She had married a young German officer who had risen to the rank of a full + general. Mark Twain and his family were welcome guests at all the + diplomatic events—often brilliant levees, gatherings of + distinguished men and women from every circle of achievement. Labouchere + of 'Truth' was there, De Blowitz of the 'Times', and authors, ambassadors, + and scientists of rank. Clemens became immediately a distinguished figure + at these assemblies. His popularity in Germany was openly manifested. At + any gathering he was surrounded by a brilliant company, eager to do him + honor. He was recognized whenever he appeared on the street, and saluted, + though in his notes he says he was sometimes mistaken for the historian + Mommsen, whom he resembled in hair and features. His books were displayed + for sale everywhere, and a special cheap edition of them was issued at a + few cents per copy. + </p> + <p> + Captain Bingham (later General Bingham, Commissioner of Police in New York + City) and John Jackson were attaches of the legation, both of them popular + with the public in general, and especially so with the Clemens family. + Susy Clemens, writing to her father during a temporary absence, tells of a + party at Mrs. Jackson's, and especially refers to Captain Bingham in the + most complimentary terms. + </p> + <p> + “He never left me sitting alone, nor in an awkward situation of any + kind, but always came cordially to the rescue. My gratitude toward him was + absolutely limitless.” + </p> + <p> + She adds that Mrs. Bingham was very handsome and decidedly the most + attractive lady present. Berlin was Susy's first real taste of society, + and she was reveling in it. In her letter she refers to Minister Phelps by + the rather disrespectful nickname of “Yaas,” a term conferred + because of his pronunciation of that affirmative. The Clemens children + were not entirely happy in the company of the minister. They were fond of + him, but he was a great tease. They were quite young enough, but it seemed + always to give him delight to make them appear much younger. In the letter + above quoted Susy says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When I saw Mr. Phelps I put out my hand enthusiastically and said, + “Oh, Mr. Phelps, good evening,” whereat he drew back and said, so + all could hear, “What, you here! why, you're too young. Do you + think you know how to behave?” As there were two or three young + gentlemen near by to whom I hadn't been introduced I wasn't exactly + overjoyed at this greeting. +</pre> + <p> + We may imagine that the nickname “Yaas” had been invented by + Susy in secret retaliation, though she was ready enough to forgive him, + for he was kindness itself at heart. + </p> + <p> + In one of his later dictations Clemens related an anecdote concerning a + dinner with Phelps, when he (Clemens) had been invited to meet Count S——, + a cabinet minister of long and illustrious descent. Clemens, and Phelps + too, it seems, felt overshadowed by this ancestry. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Of course I wanted to let out the fact that I had some ancestors, + too; but I did not want to pull them out of their graves by the + ears, and I never could seem to get the chance to work them in, in a + way that would look sufficiently casual. I suppose Phelps was in + the same difficulty. In fact he looked distraught now and then just + as a person looks who wants to uncover an ancestor purely by + accident and cannot think of a way that will seem accidental enough. + But at last, after dinner, he made a try. He took us about his + drawing-room, showing us the pictures, and finally stopped before a + rude and ancient engraving. It was a picture of the court that + tried Charles I. There was a pyramid of judges in Puritan slouch + hats, and below them three bareheaded secretaries seated at a table. + Mr. Phelps put his finger upon one of the three and said, with + exulting indifference: + + “An ancestor of mine.” + + I put a finger on a judge and retorted with scathing languidness: + “Ancestor of mine. But it is a small matter. I have others.” + </pre> + <p> + Clemens was sincerely fond of Phelps and spent a good deal of time at the + legation headquarters. Sometimes he wrote there. An American journalist, + Henry W. Fischer, remembers seeing him there several times scribbling on + such scraps of paper as came handy, and recalls that on one occasion he + delivered an address to a German and English audience on the “Awful + German Tongue.” This was probably the lecture that brought Clemens + to bed with pneumonia. With Mrs. Clemens he had been down to Ilsenburg, in + the Hartz Mountains, for a week of change. It was pleasant there, and they + would have remained longer but for the Berlin lecture engagement. As it + was, they found Berlin very cold and the lecture-room crowded and hot. + When the lecture was over they stopped at General von Versen's for a ball, + arriving at home about two in the morning. Clemens awoke with a heavy cold + and lung congestion. He remained in bed, a very sick man indeed, for the + better part of a month. It was unpleasant enough at first, though he + rather enjoyed the convalescent period. He could sit up in bed and read + and receive occasional callers. Fischer brought him Memoirs of the + Margravine of Bayreuth, always a favorite.—[Clemens was deeply + interested in the Margravine, and at one time began a novel with her + absorbing history as its theme. He gave it up, probably feeling that the + romantic form could add nothing to the Margravine's own story.]—The + Emperor sent Frau von Versen with an invitation for him to attend the + consecration of some flags in the palace. When she returned, conveying + thanks and excuses, his Majesty commanded her to prepare a dinner at her + home for Mark Twain and himself and a few special guests, the date to be + arranged when Clemens's physician should pronounce him well enough to + attend. + </p> + <p> + Members of the Clemens household were impressed by this royal attention. + Little Jean was especially awed. She said: + </p> + <p> + “I wish I could be in papa's clothes”; then, after reflection, + “but that wouldn't be any use. I reckon the Emperor wouldn't + recognize me.” And a little later, when she had been considering all + the notables and nobilities of her father's recent association, she added: + </p> + <p> + “Why, papa, if it keeps on like this, pretty soon there won't be + anybody for you to get acquainted with but God,” which Mark Twain + decided was not quite as much of a compliment as it had at first seemed. + </p> + <p> + It was during the period of his convalescence that Clemens prepared his + sixth letter for the New York Sun and McClure's syndicate, “The + German Chicago,” a finely descriptive article on Berlin, and German + customs and institutions generally. Perhaps the best part of it is where + he describes the grand and prolonged celebration which had been given in + honor of Professor Virchow's seventieth birthday.—[Rudolph Virchow, + an eminent German pathologist and anthropologist and scholar; then one of + the most prominent figures of the German Reichstag. He died in 1902.]—He + tells how the demonstrations had continued in one form or another day + after day, and merged at last into the seventieth birthday of Professor + Helmholtz—[Herman von Helmholtz, an eminent German physicist, one of + the most distinguished scientists of the nineteenth century. He died in + 1894.]—also how these great affairs finally culminated in a mighty + 'commers', or beer-fest, given in their honor by a thousand German + students. This letter has been published in Mark Twain's “Complete + Works,” and is well worth reading to-day. His place had been at the + table of the two heroes of the occasion, Virchow and Helmholtz, a place + where he could see and hear all that went on; and he was immensely + impressed at the honor which Germany paid to her men of science. The + climax came when Mommsen unexpectedly entered the room.—[Theodor + Mommsen (1817-1903), an eminent German historian and archeologist, a + powerful factor in all liberal movements. From 1874-1895 permanent + secretary of the Berlin Royal Academy of Sciences.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There seemed to be some signal whereby the students on the platform + were made aware that a professor had arrived at the remote door of + entrance, for you would see them suddenly rise to their feet, strike + an erect military attitude, then draw their swords; the swords of + all their brethren standing guard at the innumerable tables would + flash from the scabbard and be held aloft—a handsome spectacle. + Three clear bugle-notes would ring out, then all these swords would + come down with a crash, twice repeated, on the tables and be + uplifted and held aloft again; then in the distance you would see + the gay uniforms and uplifted swords of a guard of honor clearing + the way and conducting the guest down to his place. The songs were + stirring, and the immense outpour from young life and young lungs, + the crash of swords, and the thunder of the beer-mugs gradually + worked a body up to what seemed the last possible summit of + excitement. It surely seemed to me that I had reached that summit, + that I had reached my limit, and that there was no higher lift + devisable for me. When apparently the last eminent guest had long + ago taken his place, again those three bugle-blasts rang out, and + once more the swords leaped from their scabbards. Who might this + late comer be? Nobody was interested to inquire. Still, indolent + eyes were turned toward the distant entrance, and we saw the silken + gleam and the lifted sword of a guard of honor plowing through the + remote crowds. Then we saw that end of the house rising to its + feet; saw it rise abreast the advancing guard all along like a wave. + This supreme honor had been offered to no one before. There was an + excited whisper at our table—“Mommsen!”—and the whole house rose + —rose and shouted and stamped and clapped and banged the beer-mugs. + Just simply a storm! Then the little man with his long hair and + Emersonian face edged his way past us and took his seat. I could + have touched him with my hand—Mommsen!—think of it! + + This was one of those immense surprises that can happen only a few + times in one's life. I was not dreaming of him; he was to me only a + giant myth, a world-shadowing specter, not a reality. The surprise + of it all can be only comparable to a man's suddenly coming upon + Mont Blanc, with its awful form towering into the sky, when he + didn't suspect he was in its neighborhood. I would have walked a + great many miles to get a sight of him, and here he was, without + trouble, or tramp, or cost of any kind. Here he was, clothed in a + titanic deceptive modesty which made him look like other men. Here + he was, carrying the Roman world and all the Caesars in his + hospitable skull, and doing it as easily as that other luminous + vault, the skull of the universe, carries the Milky Way and the + constellations. +</pre> + <p> + During his convalescent days, Clemens had plenty of time to reflect and to + look out of the window. His notebook preserves some of his reflections. In + one place he says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The Emperor passes in a modest open carriage. Next that happy + 12-year-old butcher-boy, all in white apron and turban, standing up + & so proud! + + How fast they drive-nothing like it but in London. And the horses + seem to be of very fine breed, though I am not an expert in horses + & do not speak with assurance. I can always tell which is the front + end of a horse, but beyond that my art is not above the ordinary. + + The “Court Gazette” of a German paper can be covered with a playing- + card. In an English paper the movements of titled people take up + about three times that room. In the papers of Republican France + from six to sixteen times as much. There, if a Duke's dog should + catch cold in the head they would stop the press to announce it and + cry about it. In Germany they respect titles, in England they + revere them, in France they adore them. That is, the French + newspapers do. + + Been taken for Mommsen twice. We have the same hair, but on + examination it was found the brains were different. +</pre> + <p> + On February 14th he records that Professor Helmholtz called, but + unfortunately leaves no further memorandum of that visit. He was quite + recovered by this time, but was still cautioned about going out in the + severe weather. In the final entry he says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Thirty days sick abed—full of interest—read the debates and get + excited over them, though don't 'versteh'. By reading keep in a + state of excited ignorance, like a blind man in a house afire; + flounder around, immensely but unintelligently interested; don't + know how I got in and can't find the way out, but I'm having a + booming time all to myself. + + + Don't know what a 'Schelgesetzentwurf' is, but I keep as excited over it + and as worried about it as if it was my own child. I simply live on the + Sch.; it is my daily bread. I wouldn't have the question settled for + anything in the world. Especially now that I've lost the 'offentliche + Militargericht circus'. I read all the debates on that question with a + never-failing interest, but all at once they sprung a vote on me a couple + of days ago & did something by a vote of 100 to 143, but I couldn't + find out what it was. + </pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0186" id="link2H_4_0186"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLXXIX. A DINNER WITH WILLIAM II. + </h2> + <p> + The dinner with Emperor William II. at General von Versen's was set for + the 20th of February. A few days before, Mark Twain entered in his + note-book: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In that day the Imperial lion and the Democratic lamb shall sit down + together, and a little General shall feed them. +</pre> + <p> + Mark Twain was the guest of honor on this occasion, and was seated at the + Emperor's right hand. The Emperor's brother, Prince Heinrich, sat + opposite; Prince Radolin farther along. Rudolf Lindau, of the Foreign + Office, was also present. There were fourteen at the table, all told. In + his memorandum made at the time, Clemens gave no account of the dinner + beyond the above details, only adding: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + After dinner 6 or 8 officers came in, & all hands adjourned to the + big room out of the smoking-room and held a “smoking parliament” + after the style of the ancient Potsdam one, till midnight, when the + Emperor shook hands and left. +</pre> + <p> + It was not until fourteen years later that Mark Twain related some special + matters pertaining to that evening. He may have expanded then somewhat to + fill out spaces of his memory, and embroidered them, as was his wont; but + that something happened, either in reality or in his imagination, which + justified his version of it we may believe. He told it as here given, + premising: “This may appear in print after I am dead, but not + before. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “From 1891 until day before yesterday I had never mentioned the + matter, nor set it down with a pen, nor ever referred to it in any + way—not even to my wife, to whom I was accustomed to tell + everything that happened to me. + + “At the dinner his Majesty chatted briskly and entertainingly along + in easy and flowing English, and now and then he interrupted himself + to address a remark to me or to some other individual of the guests. + When the reply had been delivered he resumed his talk. I noticed + that the table etiquette tallied with that which was the law of my + house at home when we had guests; that is to say, the guests + answered when the host favored them with a remark, and then quieted + down and behaved themselves until they got another chance. If I had + been in the Emperor's chair and he in mine I should have felt + infinitely comfortable and at home, but I was guest now, and + consequently felt less at home. From old experience I was familiar + with the rules of the game and familiar with their exercise from the + high place of host; but I was not familiar with the trammeled and + less satisfactory position of guest, therefore I felt a little + strange and out of place. But there was no animosity—no, the + Emperor was host, therefore, according to my own rule, he had a + right to do the talking, and it was my honorable duty to intrude no + interruptions or other improvements except upon invitation; and of + course it could be my turn some day—some day, on some friendly + visit of inspection to America, it might be my pleasure and + distinction to have him as guest at my table; then I would give him + a rest and a quiet time. + + “In one way there was a difference between his table and mine-for + instance, atmosphere; the guests stood in awe of him, and naturally + they conferred that feeling upon me, for, after all, I am only + human, although I regret it. When a guest answered a question he + did it with a deferential voice and manner; he did not put any + emotion into it, and he did not spin it out, but got it out of his + system as quickly as he could, and then looked relieved. The + Emperor was used to this atmosphere, and it did not chill his blood; + maybe it was an inspiration to him, for he was alert, brilliant, and + full of animation; also he was most gracefully and felicitously + complimentary to my books—and I will remark here that the happy + phrasing of a compliment is one of the rarest of human gifts and the + happy delivery of it another. I once mentioned the high compliment + which he paid to the book 'Old Times on the Mississippi'; but there + were others, among them some high praise of my description in 'A + Tramp Abroad' of certain striking phases of German student life. + + “Fifteen or twenty minutes before the dinner ended the Emperor made + a remark to me in praise of our generous soldier pensions; then, + without pausing, he continued the remark, not speaking to me, but + across the table to his brother, Prince Heinrich. The Prince + replied, endorsing the Emperor's view of the matter. Then I + followed with my own view of it. I said that in the beginning our + government's generosity to the soldier was clear in its intent and + praiseworthy, since the pensions were conferred upon soldiers who + had earned them, soldiers who had been disabled in the war and could + no longer earn a livelihood for themselves and their families, but + that the pensions decreed and added later lacked the virtue of a + clean motive, and had, little by little, degenerated into a wider + and wider and more and more offensive system of vote-purchasing, and + was now become a source of corruption, which was an unpleasant thing + to contemplate and was a danger besides. I think that that was + about the substance of my remark; but in any case the remark had a + quite definite result, and that is the memorable thing about it + —manifestly it made everybody uncomfortable. I seemed to perceive + this quite plainly. I had committed an indiscretion. Possibly it + was in violating etiquette by intruding a remark when I had not been + invited to make one; possibly it was in taking issue with an opinion + promulgated by his Majesty. I do not know which it was, but I quite + clearly remember the effect which my act produced—to wit, the + Emperor refrained from addressing any remarks to me afterward, and + not merely during the brief remainder of the dinner, but afterward + in the kneip-room, where beer and cigars and hilarious anecdoting + prevailed until about midnight. I am sure that the Emperor's good + night was the only thing he said to me in all that time. + + “Was this rebuke studied and intentional? I don't know, but I + regarded it in that way. I can't be absolutely sure of it because + of modifying doubts created afterward by one or two circumstances. + For example: the Empress Dowager invited me to her palace, and the + reigning Empress invited me to breakfast, and also sent for General + von Versen to come to her palace and read to her and her ladies from + my books.” + </pre> + <p> + It was a personal message from the Emperor that fourteen years later + recalled to him this curious circumstance. A gentleman whom Clemens knew + went on a diplomatic mission to Germany. Upon being presented to Emperor + William, the latter had immediately begun to talk of Mark Twain and his + work. He spoke of the description of German student life as the greatest + thing of its kind ever written, and of the sketch on the German language + as wonderful; then he said: + </p> + <p> + “Convey to Mr. Clemens my kindest regards, ask him if he remembers + that dinner at Von Versen's, and ask him why he didn't do any more talking + at that dinner.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed a mysterious message. Clemens thought it might have been meant + to convey some sort of an imperial apology; but again it might have meant + that Mark Twain's breach and the Emperor's coolness on that occasion were + purely imaginary, and that the Emperor had really expected him to talk far + more than he did. + </p> + <p> + Returning to the Royal Hotel after the Von Versen dinner, Mark Twain + received his second high compliment that day on the Mississippi book. The + portier, a tow-headed young German, must have been comparatively new at + the hotel; for apparently he had just that day learned that his favorite + author, whose books he had long been collecting, was actually present in + the flesh. Clemens, all ready to apologize for asking so late an + admission, was greeted by the portier's round face all sunshine and + smiles. The young German then poured out a stream of welcome and + compliments and dragged the author to a small bedroom near the front door, + where he excitedly pointed out a row of books, German translations of Mark + Twain. + </p> + <p> + “There,” he said; “you wrote them. I've found it out. + Lieber Gott! I did not know it before, and I ask a million pardons. That + one there, Old Times on the Mississippi, is the best you ever wrote.” + </p> + <p> + The note-book records only one social event following the Emperor's dinner—a + dinner with the secretary of the legation. The note says: + </p> + <p> + At the Emperor's dinner black cravats were ordered. Tonight I went in a + black cravat and everybody else wore white ones. Just my luck. + </p> + <p> + The Berlin activities came to an end then. He was still physically far + from robust, and his doctors peremptorily ordered him to stay indoors or + to go to a warmer climate. This was March 1st. Clemens and his wife took + Joseph Very, and, leaving the others for the time in Berlin, set out for + Mentone, in the south of France. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0187" id="link2H_4_0187"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLXXX. MANY WANDERINGS + </h2> + <p> + Mentone was warm and quiet, and Clemens worked when his arm permitted. He + was alone there with Mrs. Clemens, and they wandered about a good deal, + idling and picture-making, enjoying a sort of belated honeymoon. Clemens + wrote to Susy: + </p> + <p> + Joseph is gone to Nice to educate himself in kodaking—and to get the + pictures mounted which mama thinks she took here; but I noticed she didn't + take the plug out, as a rule. When she did she took nine pictures on top + of each other—composites. + </p> + <p> + They remained a month in Mentone, then went over to Pisa, and sent Joseph + to bring the rest of the party to Rome. In Rome they spent another month—a + period of sight-seeing, enjoyable, but to Clemens pretty profitless. + </p> + <p> + “I do not expect to be able to write any literature this year,” + he said in a letter to Hall near the end of April. “The moment I + take up my pen my rheumatism returns.” + </p> + <p> + Still he struggled along and managed to pile up a good deal of copy in the + course of weeks. From Rome to Florence, at the end of April, and so + pleasing was the prospect, and so salubrious the air of that ancient city, + that they resolved to engage residence there for the next winter. They + inspected accommodations of various kinds, and finally, through Prof. + Willard Fiske, were directed to the Villa Viviani, near Settignano, on a + hill to the eastward of Florence, with vineyard and olive-grove sloping + away to the city lying in a haze-a vision of beauty and peace. They closed + the arrangement for Viviani, and about the middle of May went up to Venice + for a fortnight of sight-seeing—a break in the travel back to + Germany. William Gedney Bunce, the Hartford artist, was in Venice, and + Sarah Orne Jewett and other home friends. + </p> + <p> + From Venice, by way of Lake Como and “a tangled route” (his + note-book says) to Lucerne, and so northward to Berlin and on to Bad + Nauheim, where they had planned to spend the summer. Clemens for some + weeks had contemplated a trip to America, for matters there seemed to + demand his personal attention. Summer arrangements for the family being + now concluded, he left within the week and set sail on the Havel for New + York. To Jean he wrote a cheerful good-by letter, more cheerful, we may + believe, than he felt. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + BREMEN, 7.45 A.M., June 14, 1892. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR JEAN CLEMENS,—I am up & shaved & got my clean shirt on + & feel mighty fine, & am going down to show off before I put on + the rest of my clothes. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps mama & Mrs. Hague can persuade the Hauswirth to do right; but + if he don't you go down & kill his dog. + </p> + <p> + I wish you would invite the Consul-General and his ladies down to take one + of those slim dinners with mama, then he would complain to the Government. + </p> + <p> + Clemens felt that his presence in America, was demanded by two things. + Hall's reports continued, as ever, optimistic; but the semi-annual + statements were less encouraging. The Library of Literature and some of + the other books were selling well enough; but the continuous increase of + capital required by a business conducted on the instalment plan had + steadily added to the firm's liabilities, while the prospect of a general + tightening in the money-market made the outlook not a particularly happy + one. Clemens thought he might be able to dispose of the Library or an + interest in it, or even of his share of the business itself, to some one + with means sufficient to put it on an easier financial footing. The + uncertainties of trade and the burden of increased debt had become a + nightmare which interfered with his sleep. It seemed hard enough to earn a + living with a crippled arm, without this heavy business care. + </p> + <p> + The second interest requiring attention was that other old one—the + machine. Clemens had left the matter in Paige's hands, and Paige, with + persuasive eloquence, had interested Chicago capital to a point where a + company had been formed to manufacture the type-setter in that city. Paige + reported that he had got several million dollars subscribed for the + construction of a factory, and that he had been placed on a salary as a + sort of general “consulting omniscient” at five thousand + dollars a month. Clemens, who had been negotiating again with the Mallorys + for the disposal of his machine royalties, thought it proper to find out + just what was going on. He remained in America less than two weeks, during + which he made a flying trip to Chicago and found that Paige's company + really had a factory started, and proposed to manufacture fifty machines. + It was not easy to find out the exact status of this new company, but + Clemens at least was hopeful enough of its prospects to call off the + negotiations with the Mallorys which had promised considerable cash in + hand. He had been able to accomplish nothing material in the publishing + situation, but his heart-to-heart talk with Hall for some reason had + seemed comforting. The business had been expanding; they would now “concentrate.” + He returned on the Lahn, and he must have been in better health and + spirits, for it is said he kept the ship very merry during the passage. He + told many extravagantly amusing yarns; so many that a court was convened + to try him on the charge of “inordinate and unscientific lying.” + Many witnesses testified, and his own testimony was so unconvincing that + the jury convicted him without leaving the bench. He was sentenced to read + aloud from his own works for a considerable period every day until the + steamer should reach port. It is said that he faithfully carried out this + part of the program, and that the proceeds from the trial and the various + readings amounted to something more than six hundred dollars, which was + turned over to the Seamen's Fund. + </p> + <p> + Clemens's arm was really much better, and he put in a good deal of spare + time during the trip writing an article on “All Sorts and Conditions + of Ships,” from Noah's Ark down to the fine new Havel, then the + latest word in ship-construction. It was an article written in a happy + vein and is profitable reading to-day. The description of Columbus as he + appeared on the deck of his flag-ship is particularly rich and flowing: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + If the weather was chilly he came up clad from plumed helmet to + spurred heel in magnificent plate-armor inlaid with arabesques of + gold, having previously warmed it at the galley fire. If the + weather was warm he came up in the ordinary sailor toggery of the + time-great slouch hat of blue velvet, with a flowing brush of snowy + ostrich-plumes, fastened on with a flashing cluster of diamonds and + emeralds; gold-embroidered doublet of green velvet, with slashed + sleeves exposing undersleeves of crimson satin; deep collar and cuff + ruffles of rich, limp lace; trunk hose of pink velvet, with big + knee-knots of brocaded yellow ribbon; pearl-tinted silk stockings, + clocked and daintily embroidered; lemon-colored buskins of unborn + kid, funnel-topped, and drooping low to expose the pretty stockings; + deep gauntlets of finest white heretic skin, from the factory of the + Holy Inquisition, formerly part of the person of a lady of rank; + rapier with sheath crusted with jewels and hanging from a broad + baldric upholstered with rubies and sapphires. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0188" id="link2H_4_0188"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLXXXI. NAUHEIM AND THE PRINCE OF WALES + </h2> + <p> + Clemens was able to write pretty steadily that summer in Nauheim and + turned off a quantity of copy. He completed several short articles and + stories, and began, or at least continued work on, two books—'Tom + Sawyer Abroad' and 'Those Extraordinary Twins'—the latter being the + original form of 'Pudd'nhead Wilson'. As early as August 4th he wrote to + Hall that he had finished forty thousand words of the “Tom Sawyer” + story, and that it was to be offered to some young people's magazine, + Harper's Young People or St. Nicholas; but then he suddenly decided that + his narrative method was altogether wrong. To Hall on the 10th he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have dropped that novel I wrote you about because I saw a more + effective way of using the main episode—to wit, by telling it + through the lips of Huck Finn. So I have started Huck Finn & Tom + Sawyer (still 15 years old) & their friend the freed slave Jim + around the world in a stray balloon, with Huck as narrator, & + somewhere after the end of that great voyage he will work in that + original episode & then nobody will suspect that a whole book has + been written & the globe circumnavigated merely to get that episode + in in an effective (& at the same time apparently unintentional) + way. I have written 12,000 words of this new narrative, & find that + the humor flows as easily as the adventures & surprises—so I shall + go along and make a book of from 50,000 to 100,000 words. + + It is a story for boys, of course, & I think it will interest any + boy between 8 years & 80. + + When I was in New York the other day Mrs. Dodge, editor of St. + Nicholas, wrote and offered me $5,000 for (serial right) a story for + boys 50,000 words long. I wrote back and declined, for I had other + matter in my mind then. + + I conceive that the right way to write a story for boys is to write + so that it will not only interest boys, but will also strongly + interest any man who has ever been a boy. That immensely enlarges + the audience. + + Now, this story doesn't need to be restricted to a child's magazine + —it is proper enough for any magazine, I should think, or for a + syndicate. I don't swear it, but I think so. + + Proposed title—New Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. +</pre> + <p> + He was full of his usual enthusiasm in any new undertaking, and writes of + the Extraordinary Twins: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + By and by I shall have to offer (for grown folks' magazine) a novel + entitled, 'Those Extraordinary Twins'. It's the howling farce I + told you I had begun awhile back. I laid it aside to ferment while + I wrote Tom Sawyer Abroad, but I took it up again on a little + different plan lately, and it is swimming along satisfactorily now. + I think all sorts of folks will read it. It is clear out of the + common order—it is a fresh idea—I don't think it resembles + anything in literature. +</pre> + <p> + He was quite right; it did not resemble anything in literature, nor did it + greatly resemble literature, though something at least related to + literature would eventually grow out of it. + </p> + <p> + In a letter written many years afterward by Frank Mason, then + consul-general at Frankfort, he refers to “that happy summer at + Nauheim.” Mason was often a visitor there, and we may believe that + his memory of the summer was justified. For one thing, Clemens himself was + in better health and spirits and able to continue his work. But an even + greater happiness lay in the fact that two eminent physicians had + pronounced Mrs. Clemens free from any organic ills. To Orion, Clemens + wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We are in the clouds because the bath physicians say positively that + Livy has no heart disease but has only weakness of the heart muscles + and will soon be well again. That was worth going to Europe to find + out. +</pre> + <p> + It was enough to change the whole atmosphere of the household, and + financial worries were less considered. Another letter to Orion relates + history: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The Twichells have been here four days & we have had good times with + them. Joe & I ran over to Homburg, the great pleasure-resort, + Saturday, to dine with friends, & in the morning I went walking in + the promenade & met the British ambassador to the Court of Berlin + and he introduced me to the Prince of Wales. I found him a most + unusually comfortable and unembarrassing Englishman. +</pre> + <p> + Twichell has reported Mark Twain's meeting with the Prince (later Edward + VII) as having come about by special request of the latter, made through + the British ambassador. “The meeting,” he says, “was a + most cordial one on both sides, and presently the Prince took Mark Twain's + arm and the two marched up and down, talking earnestly together, the + Prince, solid, erect, and soldier-like, Clemens weaving along in his + curious, swinging gait in a full tide of talk, and brandishing a + sun-umbrella of the most scandalous description.” + </p> + <p> + When they parted Clemens said: + </p> + <p> + “It has been, indeed, a great pleasure to meet your Royal Highness.” + </p> + <p> + The Prince answered: + </p> + <p> + “And it is a pleasure, Mr. Clemens, to have met you—again.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens was puzzled to reply. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” he said, “have we met before?” + </p> + <p> + The Prince smiled happily. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes,” he said; “don't you remember that day on the + Strand when you were on the top of a bus and I was heading a procession + and you had on your new overcoat with flap-pockets?”—[See + chap. clxiii, “A Letter to the Queen of England.”] + </p> + <p> + It was the highest compliment he could have paid, for it showed that he + had read, and had remembered all those years. Clemens expressed to + Twichell regret that he had forgotten to mention his visit to the Prince's + sister, Louise, in Ottawa, but he had his opportunity at a dinner next + day. Later the Prince had him to supper and they passed an entire evening + together. + </p> + <p> + There was a certain uneasiness in the Nauheim atmosphere that year, for + the cholera had broken out at Hamburg, and its victims were dying at a + terrific rate. It was almost impossible to get authentic news as to the + spread of the epidemic, for the German papers were curiously conservative + in their reports. Clemens wrote an article on the subject but concluded + not to print it. A paragraph will convey its tenor. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + What I am trying to make the reader understand is the strangeness of + the situation here—a mighty tragedy being played upon a stage that + is close to us, & yet we are as ignorant of its details as we should + be if the stage were in China. We sit “in front,” & the audience is + in fact the world; but the curtain is down, & from behind it we hear + only an inarticulate murmur. The Hamburg disaster must go into + history as the disaster without a history. +</pre> + <p> + He closes with an item from a physician's letter—an item which he + says “gives you a sudden and terrific sense of the situation there.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + For in a line it flashes before you—this ghastly picture—a thing + seen by the physician: a wagon going along the street with five sick + people in it, and with them four dead ones. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0189" id="link2H_4_0189"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLXXXII. THE VILLA VIVIANI. + </h2> + <p> + 'The American Claimant', published in May (1892), did not bring a very + satisfactory return. For one thing, the book-trade was light, and then the + Claimant was not up to his usual standard. It had been written under hard + circumstances and by a pen long out of practice; it had not paid, and its + author must work all the harder on the new undertakings. The conditions at + Nauheim seemed favorable, and they lingered there until well into + September. To Mrs. Crane, who had returned to America, Clemens wrote on + the 18th, from Lucerne, in the midst of their travel to Italy: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We remained in Nauheim a little too long. If we had left four or + five days earlier we should have made Florence in three days. Hard + trip because it was one of those trains that gets tired every 7 + minutes and stops to rest three-quarters of an hour. It took us + 3 1/2 hours to get there instead of the regulation 2 hours. We + shall pull through to Milan to-morrow if possible. Next day we + shall start at 10 AM and try to make Bologna, 5 hours. Next day, + Florence, D. V. Next year we will walk. Phelps came to Frankfort + and we had some great times—dinner at his hotel; & the Masons, + supper at our inn—Livy not in it. She was merely allowed a + glimpse, no more. Of course Phelps said she was merely pretending + to be ill; was never looking so well & fine. + + A Paris journal has created a happy interest by inoculating one of + its correspondents with cholera. A man said yesterday he wished to + God they would inoculate all of them. Yes, the interest is quite + general and strong & much hope is felt. + + Livy says I have said enough bad things, and better send all our + loves & shut up. Which I do—and shut up. +</pre> + <p> + They lingered at Lucerne until Mrs. Clemens was rested and better able to + continue the journey, arriving at last in Florence, September 26th. They + drove out to the Villa Viviani in the afternoon and found everything in + readiness for their reception, even to the dinner, which was prepared and + on the table. Clemens, in his notes, speaks of this and adds: + </p> + <p> + It takes but a sentence to state that, but it makes an indolent person + tired to think of the planning & work and trouble that lie concealed + in it. + </p> + <p> + Some further memoranda made at this time have that intimate interest which + gives reality and charm. The 'contadino' brought up their trunks from the + station, and Clemens wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The 'contadino' is middle-aged & like the rest of the peasants—that + is to say, brown, handsome, good-natured, courteous, & entirely + independent without making any offensive show of it. He charged too + much for the trunks, I was told. My informer explained that this + was customary. + + September 27. The rest of the trunks brought up this morning. He + charged too much again, but I was told that this was also customary. + It's all right, then. I do not wish to violate the customs. Hired + landau, horses, & coachman. Terms, 480 francs a month & a pourboire + to the coachman, I to furnish lodging for the man & the horses, but + nothing else. The landau has seen better days & weighs 30 tons. + The horses are feeble & object to the landau; they stop & turn + around every now & then & examine it with surprise & suspicion. + This causes delay. But it entertains the people along the road. + They came out & stood around with their hands in their pockets & + discussed the matter with each other. I was told that they said + that a 30-ton landau was not the thing for horses like those—what + they needed was a wheelbarrow. +</pre> + <p> + His description of the house pictures it as exactly today as it did then, + for it has not changed in these twenty years, nor greatly, perhaps, in the + centuries since it was built. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It is a plain, square building, like a box, & is painted light + yellow & has green window-shutters. It stands in a commanding + position on the artificial terrace of liberal dimensions, which is + walled around with masonry. From the walls the vineyards & olive + orchards of the estate slant away toward the valley. There are + several tall trees, stately stone-pines, also fig-trees & trees of + breeds not familiar to me. Roses overflow the retaining-walls, & + the battered & mossy stone urn on the gate-posts, in pink & yellow + cataracts exactly as they do on the drop-curtains in the theaters. + The house is a very fortress for strength. The main walls—all + brick covered with plaster—are about 3 feet thick. I have several + times tried to count the rooms of the house, but the irregularities + baffle me. There seem to be 28. There are plenty of windows & + worlds of sunlight. The floors are sleek & shiny & full of + reflections, for each is a mirror in its way, softly imaging all + objects after the subdued fashion of forest lakes. The curious + feature of the house is the salon. This is a spacious & lofty + vacuum which occupies the center of the house. All the rest of the + house is built around it; it extends up through both stories & its + roof projects some feet above the rest of the building. The sense + of its vastness strikes you the moment you step into it & cast your + eyes around it & aloft. There are divans distributed along its + walls. They make little or no show, though their aggregate length + is 57 feet. A piano in it is a lost object. We have tried to + reduce the sense of desert space & emptiness with tables & things, + but they have a defeated look, & do not do any good. Whatever + stands or moves under that soaring painted vault is belittled. +</pre> + <p> + He describes the interior of this vast room (they grew to love it), + dwelling upon the plaster-relief portraits above its six doors, Florentine + senators and judges, ancient dwellers there and former owners of the + estate. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The date of one of them is 1305—middle-aged, then, & a judge—he + could have known, as a youth, the very greatest Italian artists, & + he could have walked & talked with Dante, & probably did. The date + of another is 1343—he could have known Boccaccio & spent his + afternoons wandering in Fiesole, gazing down on plague-reeking + Florence & listening to that man's improper tales, & he probably + did. The date of another is 1463—he could have met Columbus & he + knew the magnificent Lorenzo, of course. These are all Cerretanis + —or Cerretani-Twains, as I may say, for I have adopted myself into + their family on account of its antiquity—my origin having been + heretofore too recent to suit me. +</pre> + <p> + We are considering the details of Viviani at some length, for it was in + this setting that he began and largely completed what was to be his most + important work of this later time—in some respects his most + important of any time—the 'Personal Recollections of Joan of Arc'. + If the reader loves this book, and he must love it if he has read it, he + will not begrudge the space here given to the scene of its inspiration. + The outdoor picture of Viviani is of even more importance, for he wrote + oftener out-of-doors than elsewhere. Clemens added it to his notes several + months later, but it belongs here. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The situation of this villa is perfect. It is three miles from + Florence, on the side of a hill. Beyond some hill-spurs is Fiesole + perched upon its steep terraces; in the immediate foreground is the + imposing mass of the Ross castle, its walls and turrets rich with + the mellow weather-stains of forgotten centuries; in the distant + plain lies Florence, pink & gray & brown, with the ruddy, huge dome + of the cathedral dominating its center like a captive balloon, & + flanked on the right by the smaller bulb of the Medici chapel & on + the left by the airy tower of the Palazzo Vecchio; all around the + horizon is a billowy rim of lofty blue hills, snowed white with + innumerable villas. After nine months of familiarity with this + panorama I still think, as I thought in the beginning, that this is + the fairest picture on our planet, the most enchanting to look upon, + the most satisfying to the eye & the spirit. To see the sun sink + down, drowned in his pink & purple & golden floods, & overwhelm + Florence with tides of color that make all the sharp lines dim & + faint & turn the solid city into a city of dreams, is a sight to + stir the coldest nature & make a sympathetic one drunk with ecstasy. +</pre> + <p> + The Clemens household at Florence consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Clemens, Susy, + and Jean. Clara had soon returned to Berlin to attend Mrs. Willard's + school and for piano instruction. Mrs. Clemens improved in the balmy + autumn air of Florence and in the peaceful life of their well-ordered + villa. In a memorandum of October 27th Clemens wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The first month is finished. We are wonted now. This carefree life + at a Florentine villa is an ideal existence. The weather is divine, + the outside aspects lovely, the days and nights tranquil and + reposeful, the seclusion from the world and its worries as + satisfactory as a dream. Late in the afternoons friends come out + from the city & drink tea in the open air & tell what is happening + in the world; & when the great sun sinks down upon Florence & the + daily miracle begins they hold their breath & look. It is not a + time for talk. +</pre> + <p> + No wonder he could work in that environment. He finished 'Tom Sawyer + Abroad', also a short story, 'The L 1,000,000 Bank-Note' (planned many + years before), discovered the literary mistake of the 'Extraordinary + Twins' and began converting it into the worthier tale, 'Pudd'nhead + Wilson', soon completed and on its way to America. + </p> + <p> + With this work out of his hands, Clemens was ready for his great new + undertaking. A seed sown by the wind more than forty years before was + ready to bloom. He would write the story of Joan of Arc. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0190" id="link2H_4_0190"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLXXXIII. THE SIEUR DE CONTE AND JOAN + </h2> + <p> + In a note which he made many years later Mark Twain declared that he was + fourteen years at work on Joan of Arc; that he had been twelve years + preparing for it, and that he was two years in writing it. + </p> + <p> + There is nothing in any of his earlier notes or letters to indicate that + he contemplated the story of Joan as early as the eighties; but there is a + bibliographical list of various works on the subject, probably compiled + for him not much later than 1880, for the latest published work of the + list bears that date. He was then too busy with his inventions and + publishing schemes to really undertake a work requiring such vast + preparation; but without doubt he procured a number of books and renewed + that old interest begun so long ago when a stray wind had blown a leaf + from that tragic life into his own. Joan of Arc, by Janet Tuckey, was + apparently the first book he read with the definite idea of study, for + this little volume had been recently issued, and his copy, which still + exists, is filled with his marginal notes. He did not speak of this volume + in discussing the matter in after-years. He may have forgotten it. He + dwelt mainly on the old records of the trial which had been dug out and + put into modern French by Quicherat; the 'Jeanne d'Arc' of J. Michelet, + and the splendid 'Life of the Maid' of Lord Ronald Gower, these being + remembered as his chief sources of information.—[The book of Janet + Tuckey, however, and ten others, including those mentioned, are credited + as “authorities examined in verification” on a front page of + his published book. In a letter written at the conclusion of “Joan” + in 1895, the author states that in the first two-thirds of the story he + used one French and one English authority, while in the last third he had + constantly drawn from five French and five English sources.] + </p> + <p> + “I could not get the Quicherat and some of the other books in + English,” he said, “and I had to dig them out of the French. I + began the story five times.” + </p> + <p> + None of these discarded beginnings exists to-day, but we may believe they + were wisely put aside, for no story of the Maid could begin more + charmingly, more rarely, than the one supposedly told in his old age by + Sieur Louis de Conte, secretary of Joan of Arc, and translated by Jean + Francois Alden for the world to read. The impulse which had once prompted + Mark Twain to offer The Prince and the Pauper anonymously now prevailed. + He felt that the Prince had missed a certain appreciation by being + connected with his signature, and he resolved that its companion piece (he + so regarded Joan) should be accepted on its merits and without prejudice. + Walking the floor one day at Viviani, smoking vigorously, he said to Mrs. + Clemens and Susy: + </p> + <p> + “I shall never be accepted seriously over my own signature. People + always want to laugh over what I write and are disappointed if they don't + find a joke in it. This is to be a serious book. It means more to me than + anything I have ever undertaken. I shall write it anonymously.” + </p> + <p> + So it was that that gentle, quaint Sieur de Conte took up the pen, and the + tale of Joan was begun in that beautiful spot which of all others seems + now the proper environment for its lovely telling. + </p> + <p> + He wrote rapidly once he got his plan perfected and his material arranged. + The reading of his youth and manhood, with the vivid impressions of that + earlier time, became now something remembered, not merely as reading, but + as fact. + </p> + <p> + Others of the family went down into the city almost daily, but he remained + in that still garden with Joan as his companion—the old Sieur de + Conte, saturated with memories, pouring out that marvelous and tragic + tale. At the end of each day he would read to the others what he had + written, to their enjoyment and wonder. + </p> + <p> + How rapidly he worked may be judged from a letter which he wrote to Hall + in February, in which he said: + </p> + <p> + I am writing a companion piece to 'The Prince and the Pauper', which is + half done & will make 200,000 words. + </p> + <p> + That is to say, he had written one hundred thousand words in a period of + perhaps six weeks, marvelous work when one remembers that after all he was + writing history, some of which he must dig laboriously from a foreign + source. He had always, more or less, kept up his study of the French, + begun so long ago on the river and it stood him in good stead now. Still, + it was never easy for him, and the multitude of notes along the margin of + his French authorities bears evidence of his faithfulness and the + magnitude of his toil. No previous work had ever required so much of him, + such thorough knowledge; none had ever so completely commanded his + interest. He would have been willing to remain shut away from visitors, to + have been released altogether from social obligations; and he did avoid + most of them. Not all, for he could not always escape, and perhaps did not + always really wish to. Florence and its suburbs were full of delightful + people—some of them his old friends. There were luncheons, dinners, + teas, dances, concerts, operas always in progress somewhere, and not all + of these were to be resisted even by an absorbed author who was no longer + himself, but sad old Sieur de Conte, following again the banner of the + Maid of Orleans, marshaling her twilight armies across his illumined page. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0191" id="link2H_4_0191"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLXXXIV. NEW HOPE IN THE MACHINE + </h2> + <p> + If all human events had not been ordered in the first act of the primal + atom, and so become inevitable, it would seem a pity now that he must + abandon his work half-way, and make another hard, distracting trip to + America. + </p> + <p> + But it was necessary for him to go. Even Hall was no longer optimistic. + His letters provided only the barest shreds of hope. Times were hard and + there was every reason to believe they would be worse. The World's Fair + year promised to be what it speedily became—one of the hardest + financial periods this country has ever seen. Chicago could hardly have + selected a more profitless time for her great exposition. Clemens wrote + urging Hall to sell out all, or a portion, of the business—to do + anything, indeed, that would avoid the necessity of further liability and + increased dread. Every payment that could be spared from the sales of his + manuscript was left in Hall's hands, and such moneys as still came to Mrs. + Clemens from her Elmira interests were flung into the general fund. The + latter were no longer large, for Langdon & Co. were suffering heavily + in the general depression, barely hoping to weather the financial storm. + </p> + <p> + It is interesting to note that age and misfortune and illness had a + tempering influence on Mark Twain's nature. Instead of becoming harsh and + severe and bitter, he had become more gentle, more kindly. He wrote often + to Hall, always considerately, even tenderly. Once, when something in + Hall's letter suggested that he had perhaps been severe, he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mrs. Clemens is deeply distressed, for she thinks I have been + blaming you or finding fault with you about something. But most + assuredly that cannot be. I tell her that although I am prone to + write hasty and regrettable things to other people I am not a bit + likely to write such things to you. I can't believe I have done + anything so ungrateful. If I have, pile coals of fire upon my head + for I deserve it. You have done magnificently with the business, & + we must raise the money somehow to enable you to reap a reward for + all that labor. +</pre> + <p> + He was fond of Hall. He realized how honest and resolute and industrious + he had been. In another letter he wrote him that it was wonderful he had + been able to “keep the ship afloat in the storm that has seen fleets + and fleets go down”; and he added: “Mrs. Clemens says I must + tell you not to send us any money for a month or two, so that you may be + afforded what little relief is in our power.” + </p> + <p> + The type-setter situation seemed to promise something. In fact, the + machine once more had become the principal hope of financial salvation. + The new company seemed really to begetting ahead in spite of the money + stringency, and was said to have fifty machines well under way. About the + middle of March Clemens packed up two of his shorter manuscripts which he + had written at odd times and forwarded them to Hall, in the hope that they + would be disposed of and the money waiting him on his arrival; and a week + later, March 22, 1893, he sailed from Genoa on the Kaiser Wilhelm II, a + fine, new boat. One of the manuscripts was 'The Californian's Tale' and + the other was 'Adam's Diary'.—[It seems curious that neither of + these tales should have found welcome with the magazines. “The + Californian's Tale” was published in the Liber Scriptorum, an + Authors' Club book, edited by Arthur Stedman. The 'Diary' was disposed of + to the Niagara Book, a souvenir of Niagara Falls, which contained sketches + by Howells, Clemens, and others. Harper's Magazine republished both these + stories in later years—the Diary especially with great success.] + </p> + <p> + Some joke was likely to be played on Mark Twain during these ocean + journeys, and for this particular voyage an original one was planned. They + knew how he would fume and swear if he should be discovered with dutiable + goods and held up in the Custom House, and they planned for this effect. A + few days before arriving in New York one passenger after another came to + him, each with a box of expensive cigars, and some pleasant speech + expressing friendship and appreciation and a hope that they would be + remembered in absence, etc., until he had perhaps ten or a dozen very + choice boxes of smoking material. He took them all with gratitude and + innocence. He had never declared any dutiable baggage, entering New York + alone, and it never occurred to him that he would need to do so now. His + trunk and bags were full; he had the cigars made into a nice package, to + be carried handily, and on his arrival at the North German Lloyd docks + stood waiting among his things for the formality of Customs examination, + his friends assembled for the explosion. + </p> + <p> + They had not calculated well; the Custom-House official came along + presently with the usual “Open your baggage, please,” then + suddenly recognizing the owner of it he said: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Clemens, excuse me. We have orders to extend to you the + courtesies of the port. No examination of your effects is necessary.” + </p> + <p> + It was the evening of Monday, April 3d, when he landed in New York and + went to the Hotel Glenham. In his notes he tells of having a two-hour talk + with Howells on the following night. They had not seen each other for two + years, and their correspondence had been broken off. It was a happy, even + if somewhat sad, reunion, for they were no longer young, and when they + called the roll of friends there were many vacancies. They had reached an + age where some one they loved died every year. Writing to Mrs. Crane, + Clemens speaks of the ghosts of memory; then he says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I dreamed I was born & grew up & was a pilot on the Mississippi & a + miner & a journalist in Nevada & a pilgrim in the Quaker City & had + a wife & children & went to live in a villa at Florence—& this + dream goes on & on & sometimes seems so real that I almost believe + it is real. I wonder if it is? But there is no way to tell, for if + one applies tests they would be part of the dream, too, & so would + simply aid the deceit. I wish I knew whether it is a dream or real. +</pre> + <p> + He was made handsomely welcome in New York. His note-book says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Wednesday. Dined with Mary Mapes Dodge, Howells, Rudyard Kipling & + wife, Clarke,—[ William Fayal Clarke, now editor of St. Nicholas + Magazine.]—Jamie Dodge & wife. + + Thursday, 6th. Dined with Andrew Carnegie, Prof. Goldwin Smith, + John Cameron, Mr. Glenn. Creation of league for absorbing Canada + into our Union. Carnegie also wants to add Great Britain & Ireland. +</pre> + <p> + It was on this occasion that Carnegie made his celebrated maxim about the + basket and the eggs. Clemens was suggesting that Carnegie take an interest + in the typesetter, and quoted the old adage that one should not put all of + his eggs into one basket. Carnegie regarded him through half-closed lids, + as was his custom, and answered: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “That's a mistake; put all your eggs into one basket—and watch that + basket.” + </pre> + <p> + He had not come to America merely for entertainment. He was at the New + York office of the type-setter company, acquiring there what seemed to be + good news, for he was assured that his interests were being taken care of, + and that within a year at most his royalty returns would place him far + beyond the fear of want. He forwarded this good news to Italy, where it + was sorely needed, for Mrs. Clemens found her courage not easy to sustain + in his absence. That he had made his letter glowing enough, we may gather + from her answer. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It does not seem credible that we are really again to have money to + spend. I think I will jump around and spend money just for fun, and + give a little away, if we really get some. What should we do and + how should we feel if we had no bright prospects before us, and yet + how many people are situated in that way? +</pre> + <p> + He decided to make another trip to Chicago to verify, with his own eyes, + the manufacturing reports, and to see Paige, who would appear to have + become more elusive than ever as to contracts, written and implied. He + took Hall with him, and wrote Orion to meet him at the Great Northern + Hotel. This would give him a chance to see Orion and would give Orion a + chance to see the great Fair. He was in Chicago eleven days, and in bed + with a heavy cold almost the whole of that time. Paige came to see him at + his rooms, and, as always, was rich in prospects and promises; full of + protestations that, whatever came, when the tide of millions rolled in, + they would share and share alike. The note-book says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Paige shed even more tears than usual. What a talker he is! He + could persuade a fish to come out and take a walk with him. When he + is present I always believe him; I can't help it. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens returned to New York as soon as he was able to travel. Going down + in the elevator a man stepped in from one of the floors swearing + violently. Clemens, leaning over to Hall, with his hand to his mouth, and + in a whisper audible to every one, said: + </p> + <p> + “Bishop of Chicago.” + </p> + <p> + The man, with a quick glance, recognized his fellow-passenger and + subsided. + </p> + <p> + On May 13th Clemens took the Kaiser Wilhelm II. for Genoa. He had + accomplished little, but he was in better spirits as to the machine. If + only the strain of his publishing business had slackened even for a + moment! Night and day it was always with him. Hall presently wrote that + the condition of the money-market was “something beyond description. + You cannot get money on anything short of government bonds.” The + Mount Morris Bank would no longer handle their paper. The Clemens + household resorted to economies hitherto undreamed of. Mrs. Clemens wrote + to her sister that she really did not see sometimes where their next money + would come from. She reported that her husband got up in the night and + walked the floor in his distress. + </p> + <p> + He wrote again to Hall, urging him to sell and get rid of the debts and + responsibilities at whatever sacrifice: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I am terribly tired of business. I am by nature and disposition + unfit for it, & I want to get out of it. I am standing on the Mount + Morris volcano with help from the machine a long, long way off—& + doubtless a long way further off than the Connecticut company + imagine. + + Get me out of business! +</pre> + <p> + He knew something of the delays of completing a typesetting machine, and + he had little faith in any near relief from that source. He wrote again to + Hall, urging him to sell some of his type-setter royalties. They should be + worth something now since the manufacturing company was actually in + operation; but with the terrible state of the money-market there was no + sale for anything. Clemens attempted to work, but put in most of his time + footing up on the margin of his manuscript the amount of his indebtedness, + the expenses of his household, and the possibilities of his income. It was + weary, hard, nerve-racking employment. About the middle of June they + closed Viviani. Susy Clemens went to Paris to cultivate her voice, a rare + soprano, with a view to preparing for the operatic stage. Clemens took + Mrs. Clemens, with little Jean, to Germany for the baths. Clara, who had + graduated from Mrs. Willard's school in Berlin, joined them in Munich, and + somewhat later Susy also joined them, for Madame Marchesi, the great + master of voice-culture, had told her that she must acquire physique to + carry that voice of hers before she would undertake to teach her. + </p> + <p> + In spite of his disturbed state of mind Clemens must have completed some + literary work during this period, for we find first mention, in a letter + to Hall, of his immortal defense of Harriet Shelley, a piece of writing + all the more marvelous when we consider the conditions of its performance. + Characteristically, in the same letter, he suddenly develops a plan for a + new enterprise—this time for a magazine which Arthur Stedman or his + father will edit, and the Webster company will publish as soon as their + present burdens are unloaded. But we hear no more of this project. + </p> + <p> + But by August he was half beside himself with anxiety. On the 6th he wrote + Hall: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Here we never see a newspaper, but even if we did I could not come + anywhere near appreciating or correctly estimating the tempest you + have been buffeting your way through—only the man who is in it can + do that—but I have tried not to burden you thoughtlessly or + wantonly. I have been overwrought & unsettled in mind by + apprehensions, & that is a thing that is not helpable when one is in + a strange land & sees his resources melt down to a two months' + supply & can't see any sure daylight beyond. The bloody machine + offers but a doubtful outlook—& will still offer nothing much + better for a long time to come; for when the “three weeks” are up, + there will be three months' tinkering to follow, I guess. That is + unquestionably the boss machine of the world, but is the toughest + one on prophets when it is in an incomplete state that has ever seen + the light. +</pre> + <p> + And three days later: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Great Scott, but it's a long year—for you & me! I never knew the + almanac to drag so. At least not since I was finishing that other + machine. + + I watch for your letters hungrily—just as I used to watch for the + telegram saying the machine's finished—but when “next week + certainly” suddenly swelled into “three weeks sure” I recognized the + old familiar tune I used to hear so much. W——don't know what + sick-heartedness is—but he is in a way to find out. +</pre> + <p> + And finally, on the 4th: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I am very glad indeed if you and Mr. Langdon are able to see any + daylight ahead. To me none is visible. I strongly advise that + every penny that comes in shall be applied to paying off debts. I + may be in error about this, but it seems to me that we have no other + course open. We can pay a part of the debts owing to outsiders + —none to Clemenses. In very prosperous times we might regard our + stock & copyrights as assets sufficient, with the money owing to us, + to square up & quit even, but I suppose we may not hope for such + luck in the present condition of things. + + What I am mainly hoping for is to save my book royalties. If they + come into danger I hope you will cable me so that I can come over & + try to save them, for if they go I am a beggar. + + I would sail to-day if I had anybody to take charge of my family & + help them through the difficult journeys commanded by the doctors. +</pre> + <p> + A few days later he could stand it no longer, and on August 29 (1893) + sailed, the second time that year, for New York. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0192" id="link2H_4_0192"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLXXXV. AN INTRODUCTION TO H. H. ROGERS + </h2> + <p> + Clemens took a room at The Players—“a cheap room,” he + wrote, “at $1.50 per day.” It was now the end of September, + the beginning of a long half-year, during which Mark Twain's fortunes were + at a lower ebb than ever before; lower, even, than during those mining + days among the bleak Esmeralda hills. Then he had no one but him self and + was young. Now, at fifty-eight, he had precious lives dependent upon him, + and he was weighed down with a vast burden of debt. The liabilities of + Charles L. Webster & Co. were fully two hundred thousand dollars. + Something like sixty thousand dollars of this was money supplied by Mrs. + Clemens, but the vast remaining sum was due to banks, to printers, to + binders, and to dealers in various publishing materials. Somehow it must + be paid. As for their assets, they looked ample enough on paper, but in + reality, at a time like this, they were problematical. In fact, their + value was very doubtful indeed. What he was to do Clemens did not know. He + could not even send cheerful reports to Europe. There was no longer + anything to promise concerning the type-setter. The fifty machines which + the company had started to build had dwindled to ten machines; there was a + prospect that the ten would dwindle to one, and that one a reconstruction + of the original Hartford product, which had cost so much money and so many + weary years. Clemens spent a good part of his days at The Players, reading + or trying to write or seeking to divert his mind in the company of the + congenial souls there, waiting for-he knew not what. + </p> + <p> + Yet at this very moment a factor was coming into his life, a human + element, a man to whom in his old age Mark Twain owed more than to any + other of his myriad of friends. One night, when he was with Dr. Clarence + C. Rice at the Murray Hill Hotel, Rice said: + </p> + <p> + “Clemens, I want you to know my friend, Mr. H. H. Rogers. He is an + admirer of your books.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens turned and was looking into the handsome, clean-cut features of + the great financier, whose name was hardly so familiar then as it became + at a later period, but whose power was already widely known and felt among + his kind. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Clemens,” said Mr. Rogers, “I was one of your early + admirers. I heard you lecture a long time ago on the Sandwich Islands. I + was interested in the subject in those days, and I heard that Mark Twain + was a man who had been there. I didn't suppose I'd have any difficulty + getting a seat, but I did; the house was jammed. When I came away I + realized that Mark Twain was a great man, and I have read everything of + yours since that I could get hold of.” + </p> + <p> + They sat down at a table, and Clemens told some of his amusing stories. + Rogers was in a perpetual gale of laughter. When at last he rose to go the + author and the financier were as old friends. Mr. Rogers urged him to + visit him at his home. He must introduce him to Mrs. Rogers, he said, who + was also his warm admirer. It was only a little while after this that Dr. + Rice said to the millionaire: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Rogers, I wish you would look into Clemens's finances a little: + I am afraid they are a good deal confused.” + </p> + <p> + This would be near the end of September, 1893. On October 18 Clemens wrote + home concerning a possible combination of Webster & Co. with John + Brisben Walker, of the 'Cosmopolitan', and added: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have got the best and wisest man of the whole Standard Oil group-a + multi-millionaire—a good deal interested in looking into the type- + setter. He has been searching into that thing for three weeks and + yesterday he said to me: + + “I find the machine to be all you represent it. I have here + exhaustive reports from my own experts, and I know every detail of + its capacity, its immense construction, its cost, its history, and + all about its inventor's character. I know that the New York + company and the Chicago company are both stupid, and that they are + unbusinesslike people, destitute of money and in a hopeless boggle.” + + Then he told me the scheme he had planned and said: + + “If I can arrange with these people on this basis—it will take + several weeks to find out—I will see to it that they get the money + they need. In the mean time you 'stop walking the floor'.” + </pre> + <p> + Of course, with this encouragement, Clemens was in the clouds again. + Furthermore, Rogers had suggested to his son-in-law, William Evarts + Benjamin, also a subscription publisher, that he buy from the Webster + company The Library of American Literature for fifty thousand dollars, a + sum which provided for the more insistent creditors. There was hope that + the worst was over. Clemens did in reality give up walking the floor, and + for the time, at least, found happier diversions. He must not return to + Europe as yet, for the type-setter matter was still far from conclusion. + On the 11th of November he was gorgeously entertained by the Lotos Club in + its new building. Introducing him, President Frank Lawrence said: + </p> + <p> + “What name is there in literature that can be likened to his? + Perhaps some of the distinguished gentlemen about this table can tell us, + but I know of none. Himself his only parallel, it seems to me. He is all + our own—a ripe and perfect product of the American soil.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0193" id="link2H_4_0193"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLXXXVI. “THE BELLE OF NEW YORK” + </h2> + <p> + Those were feverish weeks of waiting, with days of alternate depression + and exaltation as the pendulum swung to and fro between hope and despair. + By daylight Clemens tried to keep himself strenuously busy; evenings and + nights he plunged into social activities—dinners, amusements, + suppers, balls, and the like. He was besieged with invitations, sought for + by the gayest and the greatest; “Jamie” Dodge conferred upon + him the appropriate title: of “The Belle of New York.” In his + letters home he describes in detail many of the festivities and the + wildness with which he has flung himself into them, dilating on his + splendid renewal of health, his absolute immunity from fatigue. He + attributes this to his indifference to diet and regularities of meals and + sleep; but we may guess that it was due to a reaction from having shifted + his burden to stronger financial shoulders. Henry Rogers had taken his + load upon him. + </p> + <p> + “It rests me,” Rogers said, “to experiment with the + affairs of a friend when I am tired of my own. You enjoy yourself. Let me + work at the puzzle a little.” + </p> + <p> + And Clemens, though his conscience pricked him, obeyed, as was his habit + at such times. To Mrs. Clemens (in Paris now, at the Hotel Brighton) he + wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He is not common clay, but fine-fine & delicate. I did hate to + burden his good heart & overworked head, but he took hold with + avidity & said it was no burden to work for his friends, but a + pleasure. When I arrived in September, Lord! how black the prospect + was & how desperate, how incurably desperate! Webster & Co. had to + have a small sum of money or go under at once. I flew to Hartford + —to my friends—but they were not moved, not strongly interested, & + I was ashamed that I went. It was from Mr. Rogers, a stranger, that + I got the money and was by it saved. And then—while still a + stranger—he set himself the task of saving my financial life + without putting upon me (in his native delicacy) any sense that I + was the recipient of a charity, a benevolence. He gave time to me + —time, which could not be bought by any man at $100,000 a + month—no, nor for three times the money. +</pre> + <p> + He adds that a friend has just offered to Webster & Co. a book that + arraigns the Standard Oil magnates individual by individual. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I wanted to say the only man I care for in the world, the only man I + would give a d—-n for, the only man who is lavishing his sweat & + blood to save me & mine from starvation is a Standard Oil magnate. + If you know me, you know whether I want the book or not. + + But I didn't say that. I said I didn't want any book; I wanted to + get out of this publishing business & out of all business & was here + for that purpose & would accomplish it if I could. +</pre> + <p> + He tells how he played billiards with Rogers, tirelessly as always, until + the millionaire had looked at him helplessly and asked: + </p> + <p> + “Don't you ever get tired?” + </p> + <p> + And he answered: + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what it is to get tired. I wish I did.” + </p> + <p> + He wrote of going with Mr. Rogers to the Madison Square Garden to see an + exhibition of boxing given by the then splendid star of pugilism, James J. + Corbett. Dr. Rice accompanied him, and painters Robert Reid and Edward + Simmons, from The Players. They had five seats in a box, and Stanford + White came along presently and took Clemens into the champion's + dressing-room. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Corbett has a fine face and is modest and diffident, besides being + the most perfectly & beautifully constructed human animal in the + world. I said: + + “You have whipped Mitchell & maybe you will whip Jackson in June + —but you are not done then. You will have to tackle me.” + + He answered, so gravely that one might easily have thought him in + earnest: + + “No, I am not going to meet you in the ring. It is not fair or + right to require it. You might chance to knock me out, by no merit + of your own, but by a purely accidental blow, & then my reputation + would be gone & you would have a double one. You have got fame + enough & you ought not to want to take mine away from me.” + + Corbett was for a long time a clerk in the Nevada Bank, in San + Francisco. + + There were lots of little boxing-matches to entertain the crowd; + then at last Corbett appeared in the ring & the 8,000 people present + went mad with enthusiasm. My two artists went mad about his form. + They said they had never seen anything that came reasonably near + equalling its perfection except Greek statues, & they didn't surpass + it. + + Corbett boxed 3 rounds with the middle-weight Australian champion + —oh, beautiful to see!—then the show was over and we struggled out + through a perfect mash of humanity. When we reached the street I + found I had left my arctics in the box. I had to have them, so + Simmons said he would go back & get them, & I didn't dissuade him. + I wouldn't see how he was going to make his way a single yard into + that solid incoming wave of people—yet he must plow through it full + 50 yards. He was back with the shoes in 3 minutes! + + How do you reckon he accomplished that miracle? By saying: + + “Way, gentlemen, please—coming to fetch Mr. Corbett's overshoes.” + + The word flew from mouth to mouth, the Red Sea divided, & Simmons + walked comfortably through & back, dry-shod. This is Fire-escape + Simmons, the inveterate talker, you know: Exit—in case of Simmons. + + I had an engagement at a beautiful dwelling close to The Players for + 10.30; I was there by 10.45. Thirty cultivated & very musical + ladies & gentlemen present—all of them acquaintances & many of them + personal friends of mine. That wonderful Hungarian band was there + (they charge $500 for an evening). Conversation and band until + midnight; then a bite of supper; then the company was compactly + grouped before me & I told them about Dr. B. E. Martin & the + etchings, & followed it with the Scotch-Irish christening. My, but + the Martin is a darling story! Next, the head tenor from the Opera + sang half a dozen great songs that set the company wild, yes, mad + with delight, that nobly handsome young Damrosch accompanying on the + piano. + + Just a little pause, then the band burst out into an explosion of + weird and tremendous dance-music, a Hungarian celebrity & his wife + took the floor; I followed—I couldn't help it; the others drifted + in, one by one, & it was Onteora over again. + + By half past 4. I had danced all those people down—& yet was not + tired; merely breathless. I was in bed at 5 & asleep in ten + minutes. Up at 9 & presently at work on this letter to you. I + think I wrote until 2 or half past. Then I walked leisurely out to + Mr. Rogers's (it is called 3 miles, but is short of it), arriving at + 3.30, but he was out—to return at 5.30—so I didn't stay, but + dropped over and chatted with Howells until five. +—[Two Mark Twain anecdotes are remembered of that winter at The +Players: +</pre> + <p> + Just before Christmas a member named Scott said one day: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Clemens, you have an extra overcoat hanging in the coatroom. + I've got to attend my uncle's funeral and it's raining very hard. I'd like + to wear it.” + </p> + <p> + The coat was an old one, in the pockets of which Clemens kept a melancholy + assortment of pipes, soiled handkerchiefs, neckties, letters, and what + not. + </p> + <p> + “Scott,” he said, “if you won't lose anything out of the + pockets of that coat you may wear it.” + </p> + <p> + An hour or two later Clemens found a notice in his mail-box that a package + for him was in the office. He called for it and found a neat bundle, which + somehow had a Christmas look. He carried it up to the reading-room with a + showy, air. + </p> + <p> + “Now, boys,” he said, “you may make all the fun of + Christmas you like, but it's pretty nice, after all, to be remembered.” + </p> + <p> + They gathered around and he undid the package. It was filled with the + pipes, soiled handkerchiefs, and other articles from the old overcoat. + Scott had taken special precautions against losing them. + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain regarded them a moment in silence, then he drawled: + </p> + <p> + “Well—, d—-n Scott. I hope his uncle's funeral will be a + failure!” + </p> + <p> + The second anecdote concerns The Player egg-cups. They easily hold two + eggs, but not three. One morning a new waiter came to take the breakfast + order. Clemens said: + </p> + <p> + “Boy, put three soft eggs in that cup for me.” + </p> + <p> + By and by the waiter returned, bringing the breakfast. Clemens looked at + the egg portion and asked: + </p> + <p> + “Boy, what was my order?” + </p> + <p> + “Three soft eggs broken in the cup, Mr. Clemens.” + </p> + <p> + “And you've filled that order, have you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mr. Clemens.” + </p> + <p> + “Boy, you are trifling with the truth; I've been trying all winter + to get three eggs into that cup.”] + </p> + <p> + In one letter he tells of a dinner with his old Comstock friend, John + Mackay—a dinner without any frills, just soup and raw oysters and + corned beef and cabbage, such as they had reveled in sometimes, in + prosperous moments, thirty years before. + </p> + <p> + “The guests were old gray Pacific coasters,” he said, “whom + I knew when they were young and not gray. The talk was of the days when we + went gipsying—a long time ago—thirty years.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Indeed, it was a talk of the dead. Mainly that. And of how they looked + & the harum-scarum things they did & said. For there were no cares + in that life, no aches & pains, & not time enough in the day (& + three-fourths of the night) to work off one's surplus vigor & energy. + Of the midnight highway-robbery joke played upon me with revolvers at my + head on the windswept & desolate Gold Hill Divide no witness was left + but me, the victim. Those old fools last night laughed till they cried + over the particulars of that old forgotten crime. + </pre> + <p> + In still another letter he told of a very wonderful entertainment at + Robert Reid's studio. There were present, he says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Coquelin; + Richard Harding Davis; + Harrison, the great outdoor painter; + Wm. H. Chase, the artist; + Bettini, inventor of the new phonograph; + Nikola Tesla, the world-wide illustrious electrician; see article + about him in Jan. or Feb. Century. + John Drew, actor; + James Barnes, a marvelous mimic; my, you should see him! + Smedley, the artist; + Zorn, “ ” + Zogbaum, “ ” + Reinhart, “ ” + Metcalf, “ ” + Ancona, head tenor at the Opera; + + Oh, & a great lot of others. Everybody there had done something & + was in his way famous. + + Somebody welcomed Coquelin in a nice little French speech, John Drew + did the like for me in English, & then the fun began. Coquelin did + some excellent French monologues—one of them an ungrammatical + Englishman telling a colorless historiette in French. It nearly + killed the fifteen or twenty people who understood it. + + I told a yarn, Ancona sang half a dozen songs, Barnes did his + darling imitations, Handing Davis sang the hanging of Danny Deever, + which was of course good, but he followed it with that most + fascinating (for what reason I don't know) of all Kipling's poems, + “On the Road to Mandalay,” sang it tenderly, & it searched me deeper + & charmed me more than the Deever. + + Young Gerrit Smith played some ravishing dance-music, & we all + danced about an hour. There couldn't be a pleasanter night than + that one was. Some of those people complained of fatigue, but I + don't seem to know what the sense of fatigue is. +</pre> + <p> + In his reprieve he was like some wild thing that had regained liberty. + </p> + <p> + He refers to Susy's recent illness and to Mrs. Clemens's own poor state of + health. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Dear, dear Susy! My strength reproaches me when I think of her and + you. + + It is an unspeakable pity that you should be without any one to go + about with the girls, & it troubles me, & grieves me, & makes me + curse & swear; but you see, dear heart, I've got to stick right + where I am till I find out whether we are rich or whether the + poorest person we are acquainted with in anybody's kitchen is better + off than we are.. I stand on the land-end of a springboard, with + the family clustered on the other end; if I take my foot—— +</pre> + <p> + He realized his hopes to her as a vessel trying to make port; once he + wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The ship is in sight now.... + + When the anchor is down then I shall say: + + “Farewell—a long farewell—to business! I will never touch it + again!” + + I will live in literature, I will wallow in it, revel in it; I will + swim in ink! 'Joan of Arc'—but all this is premature; the anchor + is not down yet. +</pre> + <p> + Sometimes he sent her impulsive cables calculating to sustain hope. Mrs. + Clemens, writing to her sister in January, said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mr. Clemens now for ten days has been hourly expecting to send me + word that Paige had signed the (new) contract, but as yet no + despatch comes.... On the 5th of this month I received a + cable, “Expect good news in ten days.” On the 15th I receive a + cable, “Look out for good news.” On the 19th a cable, “Nearing + success.” + </pre> + <p> + It appealed to her sense of humor even in these dark days. She added: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + They make me laugh, for they are so like my beloved “Colonel.” + </pre> + <p> + Mr. Rogers had agreed that he would bring Paige to rational terms, and + with Clemens made a trip to Chicago. All agreed now that the machine + promised a certain fortune as soon as a contract acceptable to everybody + could be concluded—Paige and his lawyer being the last to dally and + dicker as to terms. Finally a telegram came from Chicago saying that Paige + had agreed to terms. On that day Clemens wrote in his note-book: + </p> + <p> + This is a great date in my history. Yesterday we were paupers with but 3 + months' rations of cash left and $160,000 in debt, my wife & I, but + this telegram makes us wealthy. + </p> + <p> + But it was not until a fortnight later that Paige did actually sign. This + was on the 1st of February, '94, and Clemens that night cabled to Paris, + so that Mrs. Clemens would have it on her breakfast-plate the morning of + their anniversary: + </p> + <p> + “Wedding news. Our ship is safe in port. I sail the moment Rogers + can spare me.” + </p> + <p> + So this painted bubble, this thing of emptiness, had become as substance + again—the grand hope. He was as concerned with it as if it had been + an actual gold-mine with ore and bullion piled in heaps—that shadow, + that farce, that nightmare. One longs to go back through the years and + face him to the light and arouse him to the vast sham of it all. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0194" id="link2H_4_0194"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLXXXVII. SOME LITERARY MATTERS + </h2> + <p> + Clemens might have lectured that winter with profit, and Major Pond did + his best to persuade him; but Rogers agreed that his presence in New York + was likely to be too important to warrant any schedule of absence. He went + once to Boston to lecture for charity, though his pleasure in the + experience was a sufficient reward. On the evening before the lecture Mrs. + James T. Fields had him to her house to dine with Dr. Holmes, then not far + from the end of his long, beautiful life.—[He died that same year, + October, 1894.] + </p> + <p> + Clemens wrote to Paris of their evening together: + </p> + <p> + Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes never goes out (he is in his 84th year), but he + came out this time—said he wanted to “have a time” once + more with me. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Fields said Aldrich begged to come, & went away crying because + she wouldn't let him. She allowed only her family (Sarah Orne Jewett & + sister) to be present, because much company would overtax Dr. Holmes. + </p> + <p> + Well, he was just delightful! He did as brilliant and beautiful talking (& + listening) as he ever did in his life, I guess. Fields and Jewett said he + hadn't been in such splendid form for years. He had ordered his carriage + for 9. The coachman sent in for him at 9, but he said, “Oh, + nonsense!—leave glories & grandeurs like these? Tell him to go + away & come in an hour!” + </p> + <p> + At 10 he was called for again, & Mrs. Fields, getting uneasy, rose, + but he wouldn't go—& so we rattled ahead the same as ever. Twice + more Mrs. Fields rose, but he wouldn't go—& he didn't go till + half past 10—an unwarrantable dissipation for him in these days. He + was prodigiously complimentary about some of my books, & is having + Pudd'nhead read to him. I told him you & I used the Autocrat as a + courting book & marked it all through, & that you keep it in the + sacred green box with the loveletters, & it pleased him. + </p> + <p> + One other address Clemens delivered that winter, at Fair Haven, on the + opening of the Millicent Library, a present to the town from Mrs. Rogers. + Mrs. Rogers had suggested to her husband that perhaps Mr. Clemens would be + willing to say a few words there. Mr. Rogers had replied, “Oh, + Clemens is in trouble. I don't like to ask him,” but a day or two + later told him of Mrs. Rogers's wish, adding: + </p> + <p> + “Don't feel at all that you need to do it. I know just how you are + feeling, how worried you are.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens answered, “Mr. Rogers, do you think there is anything I + could do for you that I wouldn't do?” + </p> + <p> + It was on this occasion that he told for the first time the “stolen + watermelon” story, so often reprinted since; how once he had stolen + a watermelon, and when he found it to be a green one, had returned it to + the farmer, with a lecture on honesty, and received a ripe one in its + place. + </p> + <p> + In spite of his cares and diversions Clemens's literary activities of this + time were considerable. He wrote an article for the Youth's Companion—“How + to Tell a Story”—and another for the North American Review on + Fenimore Cooper's “Literary Offenses.” Mark Twain had not much + respect for Cooper as a literary artist. Cooper's stilted artificialities + and slipshod English exasperated him and made it hard for him to see that + in spite of these things the author of the Deerslayer was a mighty + story-teller. Clemens had also promised some stories to Walker, of the + Cosmopolitan, and gave him one for his Christmas number, “Traveling + with a Reformer,” which had grown out of some incidents of that + long-ago journey with Osgood to Chicago, supplemented by others that had + happened on the more recent visit to that city with Hall. This story had + already appeared when Clemens and Rogers had made their Chicago trip. + Rogers had written for passes over the Pennsylvania road, and the + president, replying, said: + </p> + <p> + “No, I won't give Mark Twain a pass over our road. I've been reading + his 'Traveling with a Reformer,' in which he abuses our road. I wouldn't + let him ride over it again if I could help it. The only way I'll agree to + let him go over it at all is in my private car. I have stocked it with + everything he can possibly want, and have given orders that if there is + anything else he wants the train is to be stopped until they can get it.” + </p> + <p> + “Pudd'nhead Wilson” was appearing in the Century during this + period, and “Tom Sawyer Abroad” in the St. Nicholas. The + Century had issued a tiny calendar of the Pudd'nhead maxims, and these + quaint bits of philosophy, the very gems of Mark Twain mental riches, were + in everybody's mouth. With all this going on, and with his appearance at + various social events, he was rather a more spectacular figure that winter + than ever before. + </p> + <p> + From the note-book: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The Haunted Looking-glass. The guest (at midnight a dim light + burning) wakes up & sees appear & disappear the faces that have + looked into the glass during 3 centuries. + + Love seems the swiftest but is the slowest of all growths. No man + and woman really know what perfect love is until they have been + married a quarter of a century. + + It is more trouble to make a maxim than it is to do right. + + Of all God's creatures, there is only one that cannot be made the + slave of the lash—that one is the cat. + + Truth is stranger than fiction—to some people, but I am measurably + familiar with it. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0195" id="link2H_4_0195"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLXXXVIII. FAILURE + </h2> + <p> + It was the first week in March before it was thought to be safe for + Clemens to return to France, even for a brief visit to his family. He + hurried across and remained with them what seemed an infinitesimal time, a + bare three weeks, and was back again in New York by the middle of April. + The Webster company difficulties had now reached an acute stage. Mr. + Rogers had kept a close watch on its financial affairs, hoping to be able + to pull it through or to close it without failure, paying all the + creditors in full; but on the afternoon of the 16th of April, 1894, Hall + arrived at Clemens's room at The Players in a panic. The Mount Morris Bank + had elected a new president and board of directors, and had straightway + served notice on him that he must pay his notes—two notes of five + thousand dollars each in a few days when due. Mr. Rogers was immediately + notified, of course, and said he would sleep on it and advise them next + day. He did not believe that the bank would really push them to the wall. + The next day was spent in seeing what could be done, and by evening it was + clear that unless a considerable sum of money was raised a voluntary + assignment was the proper course. The end of the long struggle had come. + Clemens hesitated less on his own than on his wife's account. He knew that + to her the word failure would be associated with disgrace. She had pinched + herself with a hundred economies to keep the business afloat, and was + willing to go on economizing to avert this final disaster. Mr. Rogers + said: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Clemens, assure her from me that there is not even a tinge of + disgrace in making this assignment. By doing it you will relieve yourself + of a fearful load of dread, and in time will be able to pay everything and + stand clear before the world. If you don't do it you will probably never + be free from debt, and it will kill you and Mrs. Clemens both. If there is + any disgrace it would be in not taking the course that will give you and + her your freedom and your creditors a better chance for their claims. Most + of them will be glad enough to help you.” + </p> + <p> + It was on the afternoon of the next day, April 18, 1894, that the firm of + Charles L. Webster & Co. executed assignment papers and closed its + doors. A meeting of the creditors was called, at which H. H. Rogers was + present, representing Clemens. For the most part the creditors were + liberal and willing to agree to any equitable arrangement. But there were + a few who were grumpy and fussy. They declared that Mark Twain should turn + over his copyrights, his Hartford home, and whatever other odds and ends + could be discovered. Mr. Rogers, discussing the matter in 1908, said: + </p> + <p> + “They were bent on devouring every pound of flesh in sight and + picking the bones afterward, as Clemens and his wife were perfectly + willing they should do. I was getting a little warm all the time at the + highhanded way in which these few men were conducting the thing, and + presently I got on my feet and said, 'Gentlemen, you are not going to have + this thing all your way. I have something to say about Mr. Clemens's + affairs. Mrs. Clemens is the chief creditor of this firm. Out of her own + personal fortune she has lent it more than sixty thousand dollars. She + will be a preferred creditor, and those copyrights will be assigned to her + until her claim is paid in full. As for the home in Hartford, it is hers + already.' + </p> + <p> + “There was a good deal of complaint, but I refused to budge. I + insisted that Mrs. Clemens had the first claims on the copyrights, though, + to tell the truth, these did not promise much then, for in that hard year + the sale of books was small enough. Besides Mrs. Clemens's claim the debts + amounted to one hundred thousand dollars, and of course there must be a + definite basis of settlement, so it was agreed that Clemens should pay + fifty cents on the dollar, when the assets were finally realized upon, and + receive a quittance. Clemens himself declared that sooner or later he + would pay the other fifty cents, dollar for dollar, though I believe there + was no one besides himself and his wife and me who believed he would ever + be able to do it. Clemens himself got discouraged sometimes, and was about + ready to give it up, for he was getting on in years—nearly sixty—and + he was in poor health. Once when we found the debt, after the Webster + salvage, was going to be at least seventy thousand dollars, he said, 'I + need not dream of paying it. I never could manage it.' But he stuck to it. + He was at my house a good deal at first. We gave him a room there and he + came and went as he chose. The worry told upon him. He became frail during + those weeks, almost ethereal, yet it was strange how brilliant he was, how + cheerful.” + </p> + <p> + The business that had begun so promisingly and prosperously a decade + before had dwindled to its end. The last book it had in hand was 'Tom + Sawyer Abroad', just ready for issue. It curiously happened that on the + day of the failure copies of it were filed in Washington for copyright. + Frank Bliss came over from Hartford, and Clemens arranged with him for the + publication of 'Pudd'nhead Wilson', thereby renewing the old relationship + with the American Publishing Company after a break of a dozen years. + </p> + <p> + Naturally, the failure of Mark Twain's publishing firm made a public stir, + and it showed how many and sincere were his friends, how ready they were + with sympathy and help of a more material kind. Those who understood best, + congratulated him on being out of the entanglement. + </p> + <p> + Poultney Bigelow, Douglas Taylor, Andrew Carnegie, Charles Dudley Warner, + and others extended financial help, Bigelow and Taylor each inclosing him + a check of one thousand dollars for immediate necessities. He was touched + by these things, but the checks were returned. Many of his creditors sent + him personal letters assuring him that he was to forget his obligation to + them completely until such time as the remembering would cost him no + uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + Clemens, in fact, felt relieved, now that the worst had come, and wrote + bright letters home. In one he said: + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rogers is perfectly satisfied that our course was right, absolutely + right and wise—cheer up, the best is yet to come. + </p> + <p> + And again: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Now & then a good and dear Joe Twichell or Susy Warner condoles with + me & says, “Cheer up-don't be downhearted,” and some other friend + says, “I'm glad and surprised to see how cheerful you are & how + bravely you stand it,” & none of them suspect what a burden has been + lifted from me & how blithe I am inside. Except when I think of + you, dear heart—then I am not blithe; for I seem to see you + grieving and ashamed, & dreading to look people in the face. For in + the thick of the fight there is cheer, but you are far away & cannot + hear the drum nor see the wheeling squadrons. You only seem to see + rout, retreat, & dishonored colors dragging in the dirt—whereas + none of these things exist. There is temporary defeat, but no + dishonor—& we will march again. Charley Warner said to-day, “Sho, + Livy isn't worrying. So long as she's got you and the children she + doesn't care what happens. She knows it isn't her affair.” Which + didn't convince me. +</pre> + <p> + Olivia Clemens wrote bravely and encouragingly to him, and more cheerfully + than she felt, for in a letter to her sister she said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The hideous news of Webster & Co.'s failure reached me by cable on + Thursday, and Friday morning Galignani's Messenger had a squib about + it. Of course I knew it was likely to come, but I had great hope + that it would be in some way averted. Mr. Rogers was so sure there + was no way out but failure that I suppose it was true. But I have a + perfect horror and heart-sickness over it. I cannot get away from + the feeling that business failure means disgrace. I suppose it + always will mean that to me. We have put a great deal of money into + the concern, and perhaps there would have been nothing but to keep + putting it in and losing it. We certainly now have not much to + lose. We might have mortgaged the house; that was the only thing I + could think of to do. Mr. Clemens felt that there would never be + any end, and perhaps he was right. At any rate, I know that he was + convinced that it was the only thing, because when he went back he + promised me that if it was possible to save the thing he would do so + if only on account of my sentiment in the matter. + + Sue, if you were to see me you would see that I have grown old very + fast during this last year. I have wrinkled. + + Most of the time I want to lie down and cry. Everything seems to me + so impossible. I do not make things go very well, and I feel that + my life is an absolute and irretrievable failure. Perhaps I am + thankless, but I so often feel that I should like to give it up and + die. However, I presume that if I could have the opportunity I + should at once desire to live. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens now hurried back to Paris, arriving about the middle of May, his + second trip in two months. Scarcely had he got the family settled at La + Bourboule-les-Bains, a quiet watering-place in the southern part of + France, when a cable from Mr. Rogers, stating that the typesetter was + perfected, made him decide to hurry back to America to assist in securing + the new fortune. He did not go, however. Rogers wrote that the machine had + been installed in the Times-Herald office, Chicago, for a long and + thorough trial. There would be plenty of time, and Clemens concluded to + rest with his family at La Bourboule-les-Bains. Later in the summer they + went to Etretat, where he settled down to work. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0196" id="link2H_4_0196"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLXXXIX. AN EVENTFUL YEAR ENDS + </h2> + <p> + That summer (July, '94.) the 'North American Review' published “In + Defense of Harriet Shelley,” a rare piece of literary criticism and + probably the most human and convincing plea ever made for that injured, + ill-fated woman. An admirer of Shelley's works, Clemens could not resist + taking up the defense of Shelley's abandoned wife. It had become the + fashion to refer to her slightingly, and to suggest that she had not been + without blame for Shelley's behavior. A Shelley biography by Professor + Dowden, Clemens had found particularly irritating. In the midst of his + tangle of the previous year he had paused to give it attention. There were + times when Mark Twain wrote without much sequence, digressing this way and + that, as his fancy led him, charmingly and entertainingly enough, with no + large, logical idea. He pursued no such method in this instance. The paper + on Harriet Shelley is a brief as direct and compact and cumulative as + could have been prepared by a trained legal mind of the highest order, and + it has the added advantage of being the utterance of a human soul voicing + an indignation inspired by human suffering and human wrong. By no means + does it lack humor, searching and biting sarcasm. The characterization of + Professor Dowden's Life of Shelley as a “literary cake-walk” + is a touch which only Mark Twain could have laid on. Indeed, the “Defense + of Harriet Shelly,” with those early chapters of Joan at Florence, + maybe counted as the beginning for Mark Twain of a genuine literary + renaissance. It was to prove a remarkable period less voluminous than the + first, but even more choice, containing, as it would, besides Joan and the + Shelley article, the rest of that remarkable series collected now as + Literary Essays; the Hadleyburg story; “Was it Heaven or Hell?”; + those masterly articles on our national policies; closing at last with + those exquisite memories, in his final days. + </p> + <p> + The summer of 1894 found Mark Twain in the proper frame of mind for + literary work. He was no longer in a state of dread. At Etretat, a + watering-place on the French coast, he returned eagerly to the + long-neglected tale of Joan—“a book which writes itself,” + he wrote Mr. Rogers—a tale which tells itself; I merely have to hold + the pen.” Etretat, originally a fishing-village, was less + pretentious than to-day, and the family had taken a small furnished + cottage a little way back from the coast—a charming place, and a + cheap one—as became their means. Clemens worked steadily at Etretat + for more than a month, finishing the second part of his story, then went + over to Rouen to visit the hallowed precincts where Joan dragged out those + weary months that brought her to the stake. Susy Clemens was taken ill at + Rouen, and they lingered in that ancient city, wandering about its + venerable streets, which have been changed but slowly by the centuries, + and are still full of memories. + </p> + <p> + They returned to Paris at length—to the Brighton; their quarters of + the previous winter—but presently engaged for the winter the studio + home of the artist Pomroy at 169 rue de l'Universite, beyond the Seine. + Mark Twain wrote of it once: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It was a lovely house; large, rambling, quaint, charmingly furnished + and decorated, built upon no particular plan, delightfully uncertain + and full of surprises. You were always getting lost in it, and + finding nooks and corners which you did not know were there and + whose presence you had not suspected before. It was built by a rich + French artist, and he had also furnished it and decorated it + himself. The studio was coziness itself. With us it served as a + drawing-room, sitting-room, living-room, dancing-room—we used it + for everything. We couldn't get enough of it. It is odd that it + should have been so cozy, for it was 40 feet long, 40 feet high, and + 30 feet wide, with a vast fireplace on, each side, in the middle, + and a musicians' gallery at one end. +</pre> + <p> + Mrs. Clemens had hoped to return to America, to their Hartford home. That + was her heart's desire—to go back once more to their old life and + fireside, to forget all this period of exile and wandering. Her letters + were full of her home-longing; her three years of absence seemed like an + eternity. + </p> + <p> + In its way, the Pomroy house was the best substitute for home they had + found. Its belongings were of the kind she loved. Susy had better health, + and her husband was happy in his work. They had much delightful and + distinguished company. Her letters tell of these attractive things, and of + their economies to make their income reach. + </p> + <p> + It was near the end of the year that the other great interest—the + machine—came finally to a conclusion. Reports from the test had been + hopeful during the summer. Early in October Clemens, receiving a copy of + the Times-Herald, partly set by the machine, wrote: “The Herald has + just arrived, and that column is healing for sore eyes. It affects me like + Columbus sighting land.” And again on the 28th: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It seems to me that things couldn't well be going better at Chicago + than they are. There's no other machine that can set type eight + hours with only seventeen minutes' stoppage through cussedness. The + others do rather more stopping than working. By and by our machines + will be perfect; then they won't stop at all. +</pre> + <p> + But that was about the end of the good news. The stoppages became worse + and worse. The type began to break—the machine had its old trouble: + it was too delicately adjusted—too complicated. + </p> + <p> + “Great guns, what is the matter with it?” wrote Clemens in + November when he received a detailed account of its misconduct. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rogers and his son-in-law, Mr. Broughton, went out to Chicago to + investigate. They went to the Times-Herald office to watch the type-setter + in action. Mr. Rogers once told of this visit to the writer of these + chapters. He said: + </p> + <p> + “Certainly it was a marvelous invention. It was the nearest approach + to a human being in the wonderful things it could do of any machine I have + ever known. But that was just the trouble; it was too much of a human + being and not enough of a machine. It had all the complications of the + human mechanism, all the liability of getting out of repair, and it could + not be replaced with the ease and immediateness of the human being. It was + too costly; too difficult of construction; too hard to set up. I took out + my watch and timed its work and counted its mistakes. We watched it a long + time, for it was most interesting, most fascinating, but it was not + practical—that to me was clear.” + </p> + <p> + It had failed to stand the test. The Times-Herald would have no more of + it. Mr. Rogers himself could see the uselessness of the endeavor. He + instructed Mr. Broughton to close up the matter as best he could and + himself undertook the harder task of breaking the news to Mark Twain. His + letters seem not to have been preserved, but the replies to them tell the + story. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 169 rue de l'Universite, + + PARIS, December 22, 1894. + + DEAR MR. ROGERS,—I seemed to be entirely expecting your letter, and + also prepared and resigned; but Lord, it shows how little we know + ourselves and how easily we can deceive ourselves. It hit me like a + thunder-clap. It knocked every rag of sense out of my head, and I + went flying here and there and yonder, not knowing what I was doing, + and only one clearly defined thought standing up visible and + substantial out of the crazy storm-drift—that my dream of ten years + was in desperate peril and out of the 60,000 or 70,000 projects for + its rescue that came flocking through my skull not one would hold + still long enough for me to examine it and size it up. Have you + ever been like that? Not so much, I reckon. + + There was another clearly defined idea—I must be there and see it + die. That is, if it must die; and maybe if I were there we might + hatch up some next-to-impossible way to make it take up its bed and + take a walk. + + So, at the end of four hours I started, still whirling, and walked + over to the rue Scribe—4 p.m.—and asked a question or two and was + told I should be running a big risk if I took the 9 p.m. train for + London and Southampton; “better come right along at 6.52 per Havre + special and step aboard the New York all easy and comfortable.” + Very! and I about two miles from home and no packing done. + + Then it occurred to me that none of these salvation notions that + were whirlwinding through my head could be examined or made + available unless at least a month's time could be secured. So I + cabled you, and said to myself that I would take the French steamer + to-morrow (which will be Sunday). + + By bedtime Mrs. Clemens had reasoned me into a fairly rational and + contented state of mind; but of course it didn't last long. So I + went on thinking—mixing it with a smoke in the dressing-room once + an hour—until dawn this morning. Result—a sane resolution; no + matter what your answer to my cable might be I would hold still and + not sail until I should get an answer to this present letter which I + am now writing or a cable answer from you saying “Come” or “Remain.” + + I have slept 6 hours, my pond has clarified, and I find the sediment + of my 70,000 projects to be of this character: +</pre> + <p> + He follows with a detailed plan for reconstructing the machine, using + brass type, etc., and concludes: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Don't say I'm wild. For really I'm sane again this morning. + + I am going right along with Joan now, and wait untroubled till I + hear from you. If you think I can be of the least use cable me + “Come.” I can write Joan on board ship and lose no time. Also I + could discuss my plan with the publisher for a de luxe Joan, time + being an object, for some of the pictures could be made over here, + cheaply and quickly, that would cost much more time and money in + America. +</pre> + <p> + The second letter followed five days later: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 169 rue de l'Universite, + PARIS, December 27, 1894. + + DEAR MR. ROGERS,—Notwithstanding your heart is “old and hard” you + make a body choke up. I know you “mean every word you say” and I do + take it “in the same spirit in which you tender it.” I shall keep + your regard while we two live—that I know; for I shall always + remember what you have done for me, and that will insure me against + ever doing anything that could forfeit it or impair it. + + It is six days or seven days ago that I lived through that + despairing day, and then through a night without sleep; then settled + down next day into my right mind (or thereabouts) and wrote you. I + put in the rest of that day till 7 P.m. plenty comfortably enough + writing a long chapter of my book; then went to a masked ball + blacked up as Uncle Remus, taking Clara along, and we had a good + time. I have lost no day since, and suffered no discomfort to speak + of, but drove my troubles out of my mind and had good success in + keeping them out—through watchfulness. I have done a good week's + work and put the book a good way ahead in the Great Trial [of Joan], + which is the difficult part: the part which requires the most + thought and carefulness. I cannot see the end of the Trial yet, but + I am on the road. I am creeping surely toward it. + + “Why not leave them all to me?” My business brothers? I take you by + the hand! I jump at the chance! + + I ought to be ashamed and I am trying my best to be ashamed—and yet + I do jump at the chance in spite of it. I don't want to write + Irving and I don't want to write Stoker. It doesn't seem as if I + could. But I can suggest something for you to write them; and then + if you see that I am unwise you can write them something quite + different. Now this is my idea: + + 1. To return Stoker's $100 to him and keep his stock. + + 2. And tell Irving that when luck turns with me I will make + good to him what the salvage from the dead Co. fails to pay him + of his $500. + + [P. S. Madam says No, I must face the music. So I inclose my + effort—to be used if you approve, but not otherwise.] + + We shall try to find a tenant for our Hartford house; not an easy + matter, for it costs heavily to live in. We can never live in it + again; though it would break the family's hearts if they could + believe it. + + Nothing daunts Mrs. Clemens or makes the world look black to her + —which is the reason I haven't drowned myself. + + I got the Xmas journals which you sent and I thank you for that Xmas + remembrance. + + We all send our deepest and warmest greetings to you and all of + yours and a Happy New Year! + + S. L. CLEMENS. +—[Brain Stoker and Sir Henry Irving had each taken a small interest in +the machine. The inclosure for Stoker ran as follows:] + + MY DEAR STOKER,—I am not dating this, because it is not to be + mailed at present. + + When it reaches you it will mean that there is a hitch in my machine + enterprise—a hitch so serious as to make it take to itself the + aspect of a dissolved dream. This letter, then, will contain cheque + for the $100 which you have paid. And will you tell Irving for me + —I can't get up courage enough to talk about this misfortune myself, + except to you, whom by good luck I haven't damaged yet—that when + the wreckage presently floats ashore he will get a good deal of his + $500 back; and a dab at a time I will make up to him the rest. + + I'm not feeling as fine as I was when I saw you there in your home. + Please remember me kindly to Mrs. Stoker. I gave up that London + lecture-project entirely. Had to—there's never been a chance since + to find the time. + + Sincerely yours, + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> + <p> + A week later he added what was about his final word on the subject: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yours of December 21 has arrived, containing the circular to + stockholders, and I guess the Co. will really quit—there doesn't + seem to be any other wise course. + + There's one thing which makes it difficult for me to soberly realize + that my ten-year dream is actually dissolved; and that is that it + reverses my horoscope. The proverb says, “Born lucky, always + lucky.” + + It was usual for one or two of our lads (per annum) to get drowned + in the Mississippi or in Bear Creek, but I was pulled out in a + drowned condition 9 times before I learned to swim, and was + considered to be a cat in disguise. When the Pennsylvania blew up + and the telegraph reported my brother as fatally injured (with 60 + others) but made no mention of me, my uncle said to my mother “it + means that Sam was somewhere else, after being on that boat a year + and a half—he was born lucky.” Yes, I was somewhere else. I am so + superstitious that I have always been afraid to have business + dealings with certain relatives and friends of mine because they + were unlucky people. All my life I have stumbled upon lucky chances + of large size, and whenever they were wasted it was because of my + own stupidity and carelessness. And so I have felt entirely certain + that the machine would turn up trumps eventually. It disappointed + me lots of times, but I couldn't shake off the confidence of a + lifetime in my luck. + + Well, whatever I get out of the wreckage will be due to good luck + —the good luck of getting you into the scheme—for, but for that + there wouldn't be any wreckage; it would be total loss. + + I wish you had been in at the beginning. Then we should have had + the good luck to step promptly ashore. +</pre> + <p> + So it was that the other great interest died and was put away forever. + Clemens scarcely ever mentioned it again, even to members of his family. + It was a dead issue; it was only a pity that it had ever seemed a live + one. A combination known as the Regius Company took over Paige's interest, + but accomplished nothing. Eventually—irony of fate—the + Mergenthaler Company, so long scorned and derided, for twenty thousand + dollars bought out the rights and assets and presented that marvelous work + of genius, the mechanical wonder of the age, to the Sibley College of + Engineering, where it is shown as the costliest piece of machinery, for + its size, ever constructed. Mark Twain once received a letter from an + author who had written a book calculated to assist inventors and + patentees, asking for his indorsement. He replied: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR SIR,—I have, as you say, been interested in patents and + patentees. If your books tell how to exterminate inventors send me + nine editions. Send them by express. + + Very truly yours, + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> + <p> + The collapse of the “great hope” meant to the Clemens + household that their struggle with debt was to continue, that their + economies were to become more rigid. In a letter on her wedding + anniversary, February 2, (1895), Mrs. Clemens wrote to her sister: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + As I was starting down the stairs for my breakfast this morning Mr. + Clemens called me back and took out a five-franc piece and gave it to me, + saying: “It is our silver-wedding day, and so I give you a present.” + </pre> + <p> + It was a symbol of their reduced circumstances—of the change that + twenty-five years had brought. + </p> + <p> + Literary matters, however, prospered. The new book progressed amazingly. + The worst had happened; other and distracting interests were dead. He was + deep in the third part-the story of Joan's trial and condemnation, and he + forgot most other things in his determination to make that one a reality. + </p> + <p> + As at Viviani, Clemens read his chapters to the family circle. The story + was drawing near the end now; tragedy was closing in on the frail martyr; + the farce of her trial was wringing their hearts. Susy would say, “Wait, + wait till I get a handkerchief,” and one night when the last pages + had been written and read, and Joan had made the supreme expiation for + devotion to a paltry king, Susy wrote in her diary, “To-night Joan + of Arc was burned at the stake,” meaning that the book was finished. + </p> + <p> + Susy herself had literary taste and might have written had it not been + that she desired to sing. There are fragments of her writing that show the + true literary touch. Her father, in an unpublished article which he once + wrote of her, quoted a paragraph, doubtless intended some day to take its + place at the end of a story: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + And now at last when they lie at rest they must go hence. It is + always so. Completion; perfection, satisfaction attained—a human + life has fulfilled its earthly destiny. Poor human life! It may + not pause and rest, for it must hasten on to other realms and + greater consummations. +</pre> + <p> + She was a deep reader, and she had that wonderful gift of brilliant, + flowing, scintillating speech. From her father she had inherited a rare + faculty of oral expression, born of a superior depth of mind, swiftness + and clearness of comprehension, combined with rapid, brilliant, and + forceful phrasing. Her father wrote of her gift: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sometimes in those days of swift development her speech was rocket- + like for vividness and for the sense it carried of visibility. I + seem to see it stream into the sky and burst full in a shower of + colored fire. +</pre> + <p> + We are dwelling here a moment on Susy, for she was at her best that + winter. + </p> + <p> + She was more at home than the others. Her health did not permit her to go + out so freely and her father had more of her companionship. They discussed + many things—the problems of life and of those beyond life, + philosophies of many kinds, and the subtleties of literary art. He + recalled long after how once they lost themselves in trying to solve the + mystery of the emotional effect of certain word-combinations—certain + phrases and lines of verse—as, for instance, the wild, free breath + of the open that one feels in “the days when we went gipsying a long + time ago” and the tender, sunlit, grassy slope and mossy headstones + suggested by the simple words, “departed this life.” Both Susy + and her father cared more for Joan than any of the former books. To Mr. + Rogers, Clemens wrote: + </p> + <p> + “Possibly the book may not sell, but that is nothing—it was + written for love.” A memorandum which he made at the time, + apparently for no one but himself, brings us very close to the personality + behind it. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Do you know that shock? I mean when you come at your regular hour + into the sick-room where you have watched for months and find the + medicine-bottles all gone, the night-table removed, the bed + stripped, the furniture set stiffly to rights, the windows up, the + room cold, stark, vacant—& you catch your breath & realize what has + happened. + + Do you know that shock? + + The man who has written a long book has that experience the morning + after he has revised it for the last time & sent it away to the + printer. He steps into his study at the hour established by the + habit of months—& he gets that little shock. All the litter & + confusion are gone. The piles of dusty reference-books are gone + from the chairs, the maps from the floor; the chaos of letters, + manuscripts, note-books, paper-knives, pipes, matches, photographs, + tobacco-jars, & cigar-boxes is gone from the writing-table, the + furniture is back where it used to be in the long-ago. The + housemaid, forbidden the place for five months, has been there & + tidied it up & scoured it clean & made it repellent & awful. + + I stand here this morning contemplating this desolation, & I realize + that if I would bring back the spirit that made this hospital home- + like & pleasant to me I must restore the aids to lingering + dissolution to their wonted places & nurse another patient through + & send it forth for the last rites, With many or few to assist + there, as may happen; & that I will do. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0197" id="link2H_4_0197"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXC. STARTING ON THE LONG TRAIL. + </h2> + <p> + The tragedy of 'Pudd'nhead Wilson', with its splendid illustrations by + Louis Loeb, having finished its course in the Century Magazine, had been + issued by the American Publishing Company. It proved not one of Mark + Twain's great books, but only one of his good books. From first to last it + is interesting, and there are strong situations and chapters finely + written. The character of Roxy is thoroughly alive, and her weird + relationship with her half-breed son is startling enough. There are not + many situations in fiction stronger than that where half-breed Tom sells + his mother down the river into slavery. The negro character is well drawn, + of course-Mark Twain could not write it less than well, but its realism is + hardly to be compared with similar matter in his other books—in Tom + Sawyer, for instance, or Huck Finn. With the exceptions of Tom, Roxy, and + Pudd'nhead the characters are slight. The Twins are mere bodiless names + that might have been eliminated altogether. The character of Pudd'nhead + Wilson is lovable and fine, and his final triumph at the murder trial is + thrilling in the extreme. Identification by thumb-marks was a new feature + in fiction then—in law, too, for that matter. But it is chiefly + Pudd'nhead Wilson's maxims, run at the head of each chapter, that will + stick in the memory of men. Perhaps the book would live without these, but + with them it is certainly immortal. + </p> + <p> + Such aphorisms as: “Nothing so needs reforming as other people's + habits”; “Few things are harder to put up with than the + annoyance of a good example”; “When angry count four, and when + very angry swear,” cannot perish; these, with the forty or so others + in this volume and the added collection of rare philosophies that head the + chapters of Following the Equator, have insured to Philosopher Pudd'nhead + a respectful hearing for all time.—[The story of Pudd'nhead Wilson + was dramatized by Frank Mayo, who played it successfully as long as he + lived. It is by no means dead, and still pays a royalty to the Mayo and + Clemens estates.] + </p> + <p> + Clemens had meant to begin another book, but he decided first to make a + trip to America, to give some personal attention to publishing matters + there. They were a good deal confused. The Harpers had arranged for the + serial and book publication of Joan, and were negotiating for the Webster + contracts. Mr. Rogers was devoting priceless time in an effort to + establish amicable relations between the Harpers and the American Company + at Hartford so that they could work on some general basis that would be + satisfactory and profitable to all concerned. It was time that Clemens was + on the scene of action. He sailed on the New York on the 23rd of February, + and a little more than a month later returned by the Paris—that is, + at the end of March. By this time he had altogether a new thought. It was + necessary to earn a large sum of money as promptly as possible, and he + adopted the plan which twice before in his life in 1872 and in 1884:—had + supplied him with needed funds. Loathing the platform as he did, he was + going back to it. Major Pond had proposed a lecture tour soon after his + failure. + </p> + <p> + “The loss of a fortune is tough,” wrote Pond, “but there + are other resources for another fortune. You and I will make the tour + together.” + </p> + <p> + Now he had resolved to make a tour-one that even Pond himself had not + contemplated. He would go platforming around the world! He would take Pond + with him as far as the Pacific coast, arranging with some one equally + familiar with the lecture circuit on the other side of the Pacific. He had + heard of R. S. Smythe, who had personally conducted Henry M. Stanley and + other great lecturers through Australia and the East, and he wrote + immediately, asking information and advice concerning such a tour. Clemens + himself has told us in one of his chapters how his mental message found + its way to Smythe long before his written one, and how Smythe's letter, + proposing just such a trip, crossed his own. + </p> + <p> + He sailed for America, with the family on the 11th of May, and a little + more than a week later, after four years of exile, they found themselves + once more at beautiful Quarry Farm. We may imagine how happy they were to + reach that peaceful haven. Mrs. Clemens had written: + </p> + <p> + “It is, in a way, hard to go home and feel that we are not able to + open our house. But it is an immense delight to me to think of seeing our + friends.” + </p> + <p> + Little at the farm was changed. There were more vines on the home—the + study was overgrown—that was all. Even Ellerslie remained as the + children had left it, with all the small comforts and utensils in place. + Most of the old friends were there; only Mrs. Langdon and Theodore Crane + were missing. The Beechers drove up to see them, as formerly, and the old + discussions on life and immortality were taken up in the old places. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Beecher once came with some curious thin layers of leaves of stone + which she had found, knowing Mark Twain's interest in geology. Later, when + they had been discussing the usual problems, he said he would write an + agreement on those imperishable leaves, to be laid away until the ages + should solve their problems. He wrote it in verse: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + If you prove right and I prove wrong, + A million years from now, + In language plain and frank and strong + My error I'll avow + To your dear waking face. + + If I prove right, by God His grace, + Full sorry I shall be, + For in that solitude no trace + There'll be of you and me. + + A million years, O patient stone, + You've waited for this message. + Deliver it a million hence; + (Survivor pays expressage.) + MARK TWAIN + + Contract with Mrs. T. K. Beecher, July 2, 1895. +</pre> + <p> + Pond came to Elmira and the route westward was arranged. Clemens decided + to give selections from his books, as he had done with Cable, and to start + without much delay. He dreaded the prospect of setting out on that long + journey alone, nor could Mrs. Clemens find it in her heart to consent to + such a plan. It was bitterly hard to know what to do, but it was decided + at last that she and one of the elder daughters should accompany him, the + others remaining with their aunt at Quarry Farm. Susy, who had the choice, + dreaded ocean travel, and felt that she would be happier and healthier to + rest in the quiet of that peaceful hilltop. She elected to remain with her + aunt and Jean; and it fell to Clara to go. Major Pond and his wife would + accompany them as far as Vancouver. They left Elmira on the night of the + 14th of July. When the train pulled away their last glimpse was of Susy, + standing with the others under the electric light of the railway platform, + waving them good-by. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0198" id="link2H_4_0198"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXCI. CLEMENS HAD BEEN ILL IN ELMIRA WITH A CARBUNCLE + </h2> + <p> + Clemens had been ill in Elmira with a distressing carbuncle, and was still + in no condition to undertake steady travel and entertainment in that + fierce summer heat. He was fearful of failure. “I sha'n't be able to + stand on a platform,” he wrote Mr. Rogers; but they pushed along + steadily with few delays. They began in Cleveland, thence by the Great + Lakes, traveling by steamer from one point to another, going constantly, + with readings at every important point—Duluth, Minneapolis, St. + Paul, Winnipeg, Butte, and through the great Northwest, arriving at + Vancouver at last on August 16th, but one day behind schedule time. + </p> + <p> + It had been a hot, blistering journey, but of immense interest, for none + of them had traveled through the Northwest, and the wonder and grandeur of + it all, its scenery, its bigness, its mighty agriculture, impressed them. + Clemens in his notes refers more than once to the “seas” and + “ocean” of wheat. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There is the peace of the ocean about it and a deep contentment, a + heaven-wide sense of ampleness, spaciousness, where pettiness and + all small thoughts and tempers must be out of place, not suited to + it, and so not intruding. The scattering, far-off homesteads, with + trees about them, were so homelike and remote from the warring + world, so reposeful and enticing. The most distant and faintest + under the horizon suggested fading ships at sea. +</pre> + <p> + The Lake travel impressed him; the beauties and cleanliness of the Lake + steamers, which he compares with those of Europe, to the disadvantage of + the latter. Entering Port Huron he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The long approach through narrow ways with flat grass and wooded + land on both sides, and on the left a continuous row of summer + cottages, with small-boat accommodations for visiting across the + little canals from family to family, the groups of summer-dressed + young people all along waving flags and handkerchiefs and firing + cannon, our boat replying with toots of the hoarse whistle and now + and then a cannon, and meeting steamers in the narrow way, and once + the stately sister-ship of the line crowded with summer-dressed + people waving-the rich browns and greens of the rush-grown, far- + reaching flat-lands, with little glimpses of water away on their + farther edges, the sinking sun throwing a crinkled broad carpet of + gold on the water-well, it is the perfection of voyaging. +</pre> + <p> + It had seemed a doubtful experiment to start with Mrs. Clemens on that + journey in the summer heat; but, strange to say, her health improved, and + she reached Vancouver by no means unfit for the long voyage ahead. No + doubt the change and continuous interest and their splendid welcome + everywhere and their prosperity were accountable. Everywhere they were + entertained; flowers filled their rooms; carriages and committees were + always waiting. It was known that Mark Twain had set out for the purpose + of paying his debts, and no cause would make a deeper appeal to his + countrymen than that, or, for that matter, to the world at large. + </p> + <p> + From Winnipeg he wrote to Mr. Rogers: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + At the end of an hour and a half I offered to let the audience go, + but they said “go on,” and I did. +</pre> + <p> + He had five thousand dollars to forward to Rogers to place against his + debt account by the time he reached the Coast, a fine return for a month's + travel in that deadly season. At no more than two places were the houses + less than crowded. One of these was Anaconda, then a small place, which + they visited only because the manager of the entertainment hall there had + known Clemens somewhere back in the sixties and was eager to have him. He + failed to secure the amount of the guarantee required by Pond, and when + Pond reported to Clemens that he had taken “all he had” + Clemens said: + </p> + <p> + “And you took the last cent that poor fellow had. Send him one + hundred dollars, and if you can't afford to stand your share charge it all + to me. I'm not going around robbing my friends who are disappointed in my + commercial value. I don't want to get money that way.” + </p> + <p> + “I sent the money,” said Pond afterward, “and was glad + of the privilege of standing my share.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens himself had not been in the best of health during the trip. He had + contracted a heavy cold and did not seem to gain strength. But in a + presentation copy of 'Roughing It', given to Pond as a souvenir, he wrote: + </p> + <p> + “Here ends one of the smoothest and pleasantest trips across the + continent that any group of five has ever made.” + </p> + <p> + There were heavy forest fires in the Northwest that year, and smoke + everywhere. The steamer Waryimoo, which was to have sailed on the 16th, + went aground in the smoke, and was delayed a week. While they were + waiting, Clemens lectured in Victoria, with the Governor-General and Lady + Aberdeen and their little son in the audience. His note-book says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + They came in at 8.45, 15 minutes late; wish they would always be + present, for it isn't permissible to begin until they come; by that + time the late-comers are all in. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens wrote a number of final letters from Vancouver. In one of them to + Mr. J. Henry Harper, of Harper & Brothers, he expressed the wish that + his name might now be printed as the author of “Joan,” which + had begun serially in the April Magazine. He thought it might help his + lecturing tour and keep his name alive. But a few days later, with Mrs. + Clemens's help, he had reconsidered, and wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + My wife is a little troubled by my wanting my nom de plume put to + the “Joan of Arc” so soon. She thinks it might go counter to your + plans, and that you ought to be left free and unhampered in the + matter. + + All right-so be it. I wasn't strenuous about it, and wasn't meaning + to insist; I only thought my reasons were good, and I really think + so yet, though I do confess the weight and fairness of hers. +</pre> + <p> + As a matter of fact the authorship of “Joan” had been pretty + generally guessed by the second or third issue. Certain of its phrasing + and humor could hardly have come from another pen than Mark Twain's. The + authorship was not openly acknowledged, however, until the publication of + the book, the following May. + </p> + <p> + Among the letters from Vancouver was this one to Rudyard Kipling + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR KIPLING,—It is reported that you are about to visit India. + This has moved me to journey to that far country in order that I may + unload from my conscience a debt long due to you. Years ago you + came from India to Elmira to visit me, as you said at the time. It + has always been my purpose to return that visit & that great + compliment some day. I shall arrive next January & you must be + ready. I shall come riding my ayah with his tusks adorned with + silver bells & ribbons & escorted by a troop of native howdahs + richly clad & mounted upon a herd of wild bungalows; & you must be + on hand with a few bottles of ghee, for I shall be thirsty. +</pre> + <p> + To the press he gave this parting statement: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It has been reported that I sacrificed for the benefit of the + creditors the property of the publishing firm whose financial backer + I was and that I am now lecturing for my own benefit. This is an + error. I intend the lectures as well as the property for the + creditors. The law recognizes no mortgage on a man's brain, and a + merchant who has given up all he has may take advantage of the laws + of insolvency and start free again for himself. But I am not a + business man, and honor is a harder master than the law. It cannot + compromise for less than 100 cents on the dollar and its debts never + outlaw. From my reception thus far on my lecturing tour I am + confident that if I live I can pay off the last debt within four + years, after which, at the age of sixty-four, I can make a fresh and + unincumbered start in life. I am going to Australia, India, and + South Africa, and next year I hope to make a tour of the great + cities of the United States. I meant, when I began, to give my + creditors all the benefit of this, but I am beginning to feel that I + am gaining something from it, too, and that my dividends, if not + available for banking purposes, may be even more satisfactory than + theirs. +</pre> + <p> + There was one creditor, whose name need not be “handed down to + infamy,” who had refused to consent to any settlement except + immediate payment in full, and had pursued with threatened attachment of + earnings and belongings, until Clemens, exasperated, had been disposed to + turn over to his creditors all remaining properties and let that suffice, + once and for all. But this was momentary. He had presently instructed Mr. + Rogers to “pay Shylock in full,” and to assure any others that + he would pay them, too, in the end. But none of the others annoyed him. + </p> + <p> + It was on the afternoon of August 23, 1895, that they were off at last. + Major Pond and his wife lunched with them on board and waved them good-by + as long as they could see the vessel. The far voyage which was to carry + them for the better part of the year to the under side of the world had + begun. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0199" id="link2H_4_0199"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXCII. “FOLLOWING THE EQUATOR” + </h2> + <p> + Mark Twain himself has written with great fulness the story of that + traveling—setting down what happened, and mainly as it happened, + with all the wonderful description, charm, and color of which he was so + great a master. We need do little more than summarize then—adding a + touch here and there, perhaps, from another point of view. + </p> + <p> + They had expected to stop at the Sandwich Islands, but when they arrived + in the roadstead of Honolulu, word came that cholera had broken out and + many were dying daily. They could not land. It was a double + disappointment; not only were the lectures lost, but Clemens had long + looked forward to revisiting the islands he had so loved in the days of + his youth. There was nothing for them to do but to sit on the decks in the + shade of the awnings and look at the distant shore. In his book he says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We lay in luminous blue water; shoreward the water was green-green + and brilliant; at the shore itself it broke in a long, white ruffle, + and with no crash, no sound that we could hear. The town was buried + under a mat of foliage that looked like a cushion of moss. The + silky mountains were clothed in soft, rich splendors of melting + color, and some of the cliffs were veiled in slanting mists. I + recognized it all. It was just as I had seen it long before, with + nothing of its beauty lost, nothing of its charm wanting. +</pre> + <p> + In his note-book he wrote: “If I might, I would go ashore and never + leave.” + </p> + <p> + This was the 31 st of August. Two days later they were off again, sailing + over the serene Pacific, bearing to the southwest for Australia. They + crossed the equator, which he says was wisely put where it is, because if + it had been run through Europe all the kings would have tried to grab it. + They crossed it September 6th, and he notes that Clara kodaked it. A day + or two later the north star disappeared behind them and the constellation + of the Cross came into view above the southern horizon. Then presently + they were among the islands of the southern Pacific, and landed for a + little time on one of the Fiji group. They had twenty-four days of halcyon + voyaging between Vancouver and Sydney with only one rough day. A ship's + passengers get closely acquainted on a trip of that length and character. + They mingle in all sorts of diversions to while away the time; and at the + end have become like friends of many years. + </p> + <p> + On the night of September 15th-a night so dark that from the ship's deck + one could not see the water—schools of porpoises surrounded the + ship, setting the water alive with phosphorescent splendors: “Like + glorified serpents thirty to fifty feet long. Every curve of the tapering + long body perfect. The whole snake dazzlingly illumined. It was a weird + sight to see this sparkling ghost come suddenly flashing along out of the + solid gloom and stream past like a meteor.” + </p> + <p> + They were in Sydney next morning, September 16, 1895, and landed in a + pouring rain, the breaking up of a fierce drought. Clemens announced that + he had brought Australia good-fortune, and should expect something in + return. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Smythe was ready for them and there was no time lost in getting to + work. All Australia was ready for them, in fact, and nowhere in their own + country were they more lavishly and royally received than in that faraway + Pacific continent. Crowded houses, ovations, and gorgeous entertainment—public + and private—were the fashion, and a little more than two weeks after + arrival Clemens was able to send back another two thousand dollars to + apply on his debts. But he had hard luck, too, for another carbuncle + developed at Melbourne and kept him laid up for nearly a week. When he was + able to go before an audience again he said: + </p> + <p> + “The doctor says I am on the verge of being a sick man. Well, that + may be true enough while I am lying abed all day trying to persuade his + cantankerous, rebellious medicines to agree with each other; but when I + come out at night and get a welcome like this I feel as young and healthy + as anybody, and as to being on the verge of being a sick man I don't take + any stock in that. I have been on the verge of being an angel all my life, + but it's never happened yet.” + </p> + <p> + In his book Clemens has told us his joy in Australia, his interest in the + perishing native tribes, in the wonderfully governed cities, in the + gold-mines, and in the advanced industries. The climate he thought superb; + “a darling climate,” he says in a note-book entry. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps one ought to give a little idea of the character of his + entertainment. His readings were mainly from his earlier books, 'Roughing + It' and 'Innocents Abroad'. The story of the dead man which, as a boy, he + had discovered in his father's office was one that he often told, and the + “Mexican Plug” and his “Meeting with Artemus Ward” + and the story of Jim Blaine's old ram; now and again he gave chapters from + 'Huck Finn' and 'Tom Sawyer'. He was likely to finish with that old + fireside tale of his early childhood, the “Golden Arm.” But he + sometimes told the watermelon story, written for Mrs. Rogers, or gave + extracts from Adam's Diary, varying his program a good deal as he went + along, and changing it entirely where he appeared twice in one city. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Clemens and Clara, as often as they had heard him, generally went + when the hour of entertainment came: They enjoyed seeing his triumph with + the different audiences, watching the effect of his subtle art. + </p> + <p> + One story, the “Golden Arm,” had in it a pause, an effective, + delicate pause which must be timed to the fraction of a second in order to + realize its full value. Somewhere before we have stated that no one better + than Mark Twain knew the value of a pause. Mrs. Clemens and Clara were + willing to go night after night and hear that tale time and again, for its + effect on each new, audience. + </p> + <p> + From Australia to New Zealand—where Clemens had his third persistent + carbuncle,—[In Following the Equator the author says: “The + dictionary says a carbuncle is a kind of jewel. Humor is out of place in a + dictionary.”]—and again lost time in consequence. It was while + he was in bed with this distressing ailment that he wrote Twichell: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I think it was a good stroke of luck that knocked me on my back here + at Napier instead of in some hotel in the center of a noisy city. + Here we have the smooth & placidly complaining sea at our door, with + nothing between us & it but 20 yards of shingle—& hardly a + suggestion of life in that space to mar it or to make a noise. Away + down here fifty-five degrees south of the equator this sea seems to + murmur in an unfamiliar tongue—a foreign tongue—a tongue bred + among the ice-fields of the antarctic—a murmur with a note of + melancholy in it proper to the vast unvisited solitudes it has come + from. It was very delicious and solacing to wake in the night & + find it still pulsing there. I wish you were here—land, but it + would be fine! +</pre> + <p> + Mrs. Clemens and himself both had birthdays in New Zealand; Clemens turned + sixty, and his wife passed the half-century mark. + </p> + <p> + “I do not like it one single bit,” she wrote to her sister. + “Fifty years old-think of it; that seems very far on.” + </p> + <p> + And Clemens wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Day before yesterday was Livy's birthday (underworld time) & + tomorrow will be mine. I shall be 60—no thanks for it! +</pre> + <p> + From New Zealand back to Australia, and then with the new year away to + Ceylon. Here they were in the Orient at last, the land of color, + enchantment, and gentle races. Clemens was ill with a heavy cold when they + arrived; and in fact, at no time during this long journeying was his + health as good as that of his companions. The papers usually spoke of him + as looking frail, and he was continually warned that he must not remain in + India until the time of the great heat. He was so determined to work, + however, and working was so profitable, that he seldom spared himself. + </p> + <p> + He traveled up and down and back and forth the length and breadth of India—from + Bombay to Allahabad, to Benares, to Calcutta and Darjeeling, to Lahore, to + Lucknow, to Delhi—old cities of romance—and to Jeypore—through + the heat and dust on poor, comfortless railways, fighting his battle and + enjoying it too, for he reveled in that amazing land—its gorgeous, + swarming life, the patience and gentleness of its servitude, its splendid + pageantry, the magic of its architecture, the maze and mystery of its + religions, the wonder of its ageless story. + </p> + <p> + One railway trip he enjoyed—a thirty-five-mile flight down the steep + mountain of Darjeeling in a little canopied hand-car. In his book he says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + That was the most enjoyable time I have spent in the earth. For + rousing, tingling, rapturous pleasure there is no holiday trip that + approaches the bird-flight down the Himalayas in a handcar. It has + no fault, no blemish, no lack, except that there are only thirty- + five miles of it, instead of five hundred. +</pre> + <p> + Mark Twain found India all that Rudyard Kipling had painted it and more. + “INDIA THE MARVELOUS” he printed in his note-book in large + capitals, as an effort to picture his thought, and in his book he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + So far as I am able to judge nothing has been left undone, either by + man or Nature, to make India the most extraordinary country that the + sun visits on his rounds. “Where every prospect pleases, and only + man is vile.” + </pre> + <p> + Marvelous India is, certainly; and he saw it all to the best advantage, + for government official and native grandee spared no effort to do honor to + his party—to make their visit something to be remembered for a + lifetime. It was all very gratifying, and most of it of extraordinary + interest. There are not many visitors who get to see the inner household + of a native prince of India, and the letter which Mark Twain wrote to + Kumar Shri Samatsinhji, a prince of the Palitana state, at Bombay, gives + us a notion of how his unostentatious, even if lavish, hospitality was + appreciated. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR KUMAR SAHIB,—It would be hard for me to put into words how + much my family & I enjoyed our visit to your hospitable house. It + was our first glimpse of the home of an Eastern Prince, & the charm + of it, the grace & beauty & dignity of it realized to us the + pictures which we had long ago gathered from books of travel & + Oriental tales. We shall not forget that happy experience, nor your + kind courtesies to us, nor those of her Highness to my wife & + daughter. We shall keep always the portrait & the beautiful things + you gave us; & as long as we live a glance at them will bring your + house and its life & its sumptuous belongings & rich harmonies of + color instantly across the years & the oceans, & we shall see them + again, & how welcome they will be! + + We make our salutation to your Highness & to all members of your + family—including, with affectionate regard, that littlest little + sprite of a Princess—& I beg to sign myself + + Sincerely yours, + S. L. CLEMENS. + + BENARES, February 5, 1896. +</pre> + <p> + They had been entertained in truly royal fashion by Prince Kumar, who, + after refreshments, had ordered in “bales of rich stuffs” in + the true Arabian Nights fashion, and commanded his servants to open them + and allow his guests to select for themselves. + </p> + <p> + With the possible exception of General Grant's long trip in '78 and '79 + there has hardly been a more royal progress than Mark Twain's trip around + the world. Everywhere they were overwhelmed with honors and invitations, + and their gifts became so many that Mrs. Clemens wrote she did not see how + they were going to carry them all. In a sense, it was like the Grant trip, + for it was a tribute which the nations paid not only to a beloved + personality, but to the American character and people. + </p> + <p> + The story of that East Indian sojourn alone would fill a large book, and + Mark Twain, in his own way, has written that book, in the second volume of + Following the Equator, an informing, absorbing, and enchanting story of + Indian travel. + </p> + <p> + Clemens lectured everywhere to jammed houses, which were rather less + profitable than in Australia, because in India the houses were not built + for such audiences as he could command. He had to lecture three times in + Calcutta, and then many people were turned away. At one place, however, + his hall was large enough. This was in the great Hall of the Palace, where + durbars are held, at Bombay. + </p> + <p> + Altogether they were two months in India, and then about the middle of + March an English physician at Jeypore warned them to fly for Calcutta and + get out of the country immediately before the real heat set in. + </p> + <p> + They sailed toward the end of March, touched at Madras and again at + Ceylon, remaining a day or two at Colombo, and then away to sea again, + across the Indian Ocean on one of those long, peaceful, eventless, tropic + voyages, where at night one steeps on deck and in daytime wears the + whitest and lightest garments and cares to do little more than sit + drowsily in a steamer-chair and read and doze and dream. + </p> + <p> + From the note-book: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Here in the wastes of the Indian Ocean just under the equator the + sea is blue, the motion gentle, the sunshine brilliant, the broad + decks with their grouped companies of talking, reading, or game- + playing folk suggestive of a big summer hotel—but outside of the + ship is no life visible but the occasional flash of a flying-fish. + I would like the voyage, under these conditions, to continue + forever. + + The Injian Ocean sits and smiles + So sof', so bright, so bloomin' blue, + There aren't a wave for miles an' miles + Excep' the jiggle of the screw. + + —KIP. + + How curiously unanecdotical the colonials and the ship-going English + are—I believe I haven't told an anecdote or heard one since I left + America, but Americans when grouped drop into anecdotes as soon as + they get a little acquainted. + + Preserve your illusions. When they are gone you may still exist, + but not live. + + Swore off from profanity early this morning—I was on deck in the + peaceful dawn, the calm of holy dawn. Went down, dressed, bathed, + put on white linen, shaved—a long, hot, troublesome job and no + profanity. Then started to breakfast. Remembered my tonic—first + time in 3 months without being told—poured it into measuring-glass, + held bottle in one hand, it in the other, the cork in my teeth + —reached up & got a tumbler—measuring-glass slipped out of my + fingers—caught it, poured out another dose, first setting the + tumbler on wash-stand—just got it poured, ship lurched, heard a + crash behind me—it was the tumbler, broken into millions of + fragments, but the bottom hunk whole. Picked it up to throw out of + the open port, threw out the measuring-glass instead—then I + released my voice. Mrs. Clemens behind me in the door. + + “Don't reform any more. It is not an improvement.” + + This is a good time to read up on scientific matters and improve the + mind, for about us is the peace of the great deep. It invites to + dreams, to study, to reflection. Seventeen days ago this ship + sailed out of Calcutta, and ever since, barring a day or two in + Ceylon, there has been nothing in sight but the tranquil blue sea & + a cloudless blue sky. All down the Bay of Bengal it was so. It is + still so in the vast solitudes of the Indian Ocean—17 days of + heaven. In 11 more it will end. There will be one passenger who + will be sorry. One reads all day long in this delicious air. Today + I have been storing up knowledge from Sir John Lubbock about the + ant. The thing which has struck me most and most astonished me is + the ant's extraordinary powers of identification—memory of his + friend's person. I will quote something which he says about Formica + fusca. Formica fusca is not something to eat; it's the name of a + breed of ants. +</pre> + <p> + He does quote at great length and he transferred most of it later to his + book. In another note he says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In the past year have read Vicar of Wakefield and some of Jane + Austen—thoroughly artificial. Have begun Children of the Abbey. + It begins with this “Impromptu” from the sentimental heroine: + + “Hail, sweet asylum of my infancy! Content and innocence reside + beneath your humble roof and charity unboastful of the good it + renders.... Here unmolested may I wait till the rude storm + of sorrow is overblown and my father's arms are again extended to + receive me.” + + Has the ear-marks of preparation. +</pre> + <p> + They were at the island of Mauritius by the middle of April, that curious + bit of land mainly known to the world in the romance of Paul and Virginia, + a story supposed by some in Mauritius to be “a part of the Bible.” + They rested there for a fortnight and then set sail for South Africa on + the ship Arundel Castle, which he tells us is the finest boat he has seen + in those waters. + </p> + <p> + It was the end of the first week in May when they reached Durban and felt + that they were nearing home. + </p> + <p> + One more voyage and they would be in England, where they had planned for + Susy and Jean to join them. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Clemens, eager for letters, writes of her disappointment in not + finding one from Susy. The reports from Quarry Farm had been cheerful, and + there had been small snap-shot photographs which were comforting, but her + mother heart could not be entirely satisfied that Susy did not send + letters. She had a vague fear that some trouble, some illness, had come to + Susy which made her loath to write. Susy was, in fact, far from well, + though no one, not even Susy herself, suspected how serious was her + condition. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Clemens writes of her own hopefulness, but adds that her husband is + often depressed. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mr. Clemens has not as much courage as I wish he had, but, poor old + darling, he has been pursued with colds and inabilities of various + sorts. Then he is so impressed with the fact that he is sixty years + old. Naturally I combat that thought all I can, trying to make him + rejoice that he is not seventy.... + + He does not believe that any good thing will come, but that we must + all our lives live in poverty. He says he never wants to go back to + America. I cannot think that things are as black as he paints them, + and I trust that if I get him settled down for work in some quiet + English village he will get back much of his cheerfulness; in fact, + I believe he will because that is what he wants to do, and that is + the work that he loves: The platform he likes for the two hours that + he is on it, but all the rest of the time it grinds him, and he says + he is ashamed of what he is doing. Still, in spite of this sad + undercurrent, we are having a delightful trip. People are so nice, + and with people Mr. Clemens seems cheerful. Then the ocean trips + are a great rest to him. +</pre> + <p> + Mrs. Clemens and Clara remained at the hotel in Durban while Clemens made + his platform trip to the South African cities. It was just at the time + when the Transvaal invasion had been put down—when the Jameson raid + had come to grief and John Hares Hammond, chief of the reformers, and + fifty or more supporters were lying in the jail at Pretoria under various + sentences, ranging from one to fifteen years, Hammond himself having + received the latter award. Mrs. Hammond was a fellow-Missourian; Clemens + had known her in America. He went with her now to see the prisoners, who + seemed to be having a pretty good time, expecting to be pardoned + presently; pretending to regard their confinement mainly as a joke. + Clemens, writing of it to Twichell, said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A Boer guard was at my elbow all the time, but was courteous & + polite, only he barred the way in the compound (quadrangle or big + open court) & wouldn't let me cross a white mark that was on the + ground—the “deathline,” one of the prisoners called it. Not in + earnest, though, I think. I found that I had met Hammond once when + he was a Yale senior & a guest of General Franklin's. I also found + that I had known Captain Mein intimately 32 years ago. One of the + English prisoners had heard me lecture in London 23 years ago.... + + These prisoners are strong men, prominent men, & I believe they are + all educated men. They are well off; some of them are wealthy. + They have a lot of books to read, they play games & smoke, & for a + while they will be able to bear up in their captivity; but not for + long, not for very long, I take it. I am told they have times of + deadly brooding and depression. I made them a speech—sitting down. + It just happened so. I don't prefer that attitude. Still, it has + one advantage—it is only a talk, it doesn't take the form of a + speech.... I advised them at considerable length to stay + where they were—they would get used to it & like it presently; if + they got out they would only get in again somewhere else, by the + look of their countenances; & I promised to go and see the President + & do what I could to get him to double their jail terms.... + We had a very good sociable time till the permitted time was up & + a little over & we outsiders had to go. I went again to-day, but + the Rev. Mr. Gray had just arrived, & the warden, a genial, elderly + Boer named Du Plessis, explained that his orders wouldn't allow him + to admit saint & sinner at the same time, particularly on a Sunday. + Du Plessis descended from the Huguenot fugitives, you see, of 200 + years ago—but he hasn't any French left in him now—all Dutch. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens did visit President Kruger a few days later, but not for the + purpose explained. John Hayes Hammond, in a speech not long ago (1911), + told how Mark Twain was interviewed by a reporter after he left the jail, + and when the reporter asked if the prisoners were badly treated Clemens + had replied that he didn't think so, adding: + </p> + <p> + “As a matter of fact, a great many of these gentlemen have fared far + worse in the hotels and mining-camps of the West.” + </p> + <p> + Said Hammond in his speech: “The result of this was that the + interview was reported literally and a leader appeared in the next + morning's issue protesting against such lenience. The privations, already + severe enough, were considerably augmented by that remark, and it required + some three or four days' search on the part of some of our friends who + were already outside of jail to get hold of Mark Twain and have him go and + explain to Kruger that it was all a joke.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens made as good a plea to “Oom Paul” as he could, and in + some degree may have been responsible for the improved treatment and the + shortened terms of the unlucky reformers. + </p> + <p> + They did not hurry away from South Africa. Clemens gave many readings and + paid a visit to the Kimberley mines. His note-book recalls how poor Riley + twenty-five years before had made his fatal journey. + </p> + <p> + It was the 14th of July, 1896, a year to a day since they left Elmira, + that they sailed by the steamer Norman for England, arriving at + Southampton the 31st. It was from Southampton that they had sailed for + America fourteen months before. They had completed the circuit of the + globe. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0200" id="link2H_4_0200"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXCIII. THE PASSING OF SUSY + </h2> + <p> + It had been arranged that Katie Leary should bring Jean and Susy to + England. It was expected that they would arrive soon, not later than the + 12th, by which time the others would be established. The travelers + proceeded immediately to London and engaged for the summer a house in + Guildford, modest quarters, for they were still economizing, though Mark + Twain had reason to hope that with the money already earned and the + profits of the book he would write of his travels he could pay himself + free. Altogether, the trip had been prosperous. Now that it was behind + him, his health and spirits had improved. The outlook was brighter. + </p> + <p> + August 12th came, but it did not bring Katie and the children. A letter + came instead. Clemens long afterward wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It explained that Susy was slightly ill-nothing of consequence. But + we were disquieted and began to cable for later news. This was + Friday. All day no answer—and the ship to leave Southampton next + day at noon. Clara and her mother began packing, to be ready in + case the news should be bad. Finally came a cablegram saying, “Wait + for cablegram in the morning.” This was not satisfactory—not + reassuring. I cabled again, asking that the answer be sent to + Southampton, for the day was now closing. I waited in the post- + office that night till the doors were closed, toward midnight, in + the hope that good news might still come, but there was no message. + We sat silent at home till one in the morning waiting—waiting for + we knew not what. Then we took the earlier morning train, and when + we reached Southampton the message was there. It said the recovery + would be long but certain. This was a great relief to me, but not + to my wife. She was frightened. She and Clara went aboard the + steamer at once and sailed for America, to nurse Susy. I remained + behind to search for another and larger house in Guildford. + + That was the 15th of August, 1896. Three days later, when my wife + and Clara were about half-way across the ocean, I was standing in + our dining-room, thinking of nothing in particular, when a cablegram + was put into my hand. It said, “Susy was peacefully released + to-day.” + </pre> + <p> + Some of those who in later years wondered at Mark Twain's occasional + attitude of pessimism and bitterness toward all creation, when his natural + instinct lay all the other way, may find here some reasons in his logic of + gloom. For years he and his had been fighting various impending disasters. + In the end he had torn his family apart and set out on a weary pilgrimage + to pay, for long financial unwisdom, a heavy price—a penance in + which all, without complaint, had joined. Now, just when it seemed about + ended, when they were ready to unite and be happy once more, when he could + hold up his head among his fellows—in this moment of supreme triumph + had come the message that Susy's lovely and blameless life was ended. + There are not many greater dramas in fiction or in history than this. The + wonder is not that Mark Twain so often preached the doctrine of despair + during his later life, but that he did not exemplify it—that he did + not become a misanthrope in fact. + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain's life had contained other tragedies, but no other that equaled + this one. This time none of the elements were lacking—not the + smallest detail. The dead girl had been his heart's pride; it was a year + since he had seen her face, and now by this word he knew that he would + never see it again. The blow had found him alone absolutely alone among + strangers—those others—half-way across the ocean, drawing + nearer and nearer to it, and he with no way to warn them, to prepare them, + to comfort them. + </p> + <p> + Clemens sought no comfort for himself. Just as nearly forty years before + he had writhed in self-accusation for the death of his younger brother, + and as later he held himself to blame for the death of his infant son, so + now he crucified himself as the slayer of Susy. To Mrs. Clemens he poured + himself out in a letter in which he charged himself categorically as being + wholly and solely responsible for the tragedy, detailing step by step with + fearful reality his mistakes and weaknesses which had led to their + downfall, the separation from Susy, and this final incredible disaster. + Only a human being, he said, could have done these things. + </p> + <p> + Susy Clemens had died in the old Hartford home. She had been well for a + time at Quarry Farm, well and happy, but during the summer of '96 she had + become restless, nervous, and unlike herself in many ways. Her health + seemed to be gradually failing, and she renewed the old interest in mental + science, always with the approval of her parents. Clemens had great faith + in mind over matter, and Mrs. Clemens also believed that Susy's + high-strung nature was especially calculated to receive benefit from a + serene and confident mental attitude. From Bombay, in January, she wrote + Mrs. Crane: + </p> + <p> + I am very glad indeed that Susy has taken up Mental Science, and I do hope + it may do her as much good as she hopes. Last winter we were so very + anxious to have her get hold of it, and even felt at one time that we must + go to America on purpose to have her have the treatment, so it all seems + very fortunate that it should have come about as it has this winter. + </p> + <p> + Just how much or how little Susy was helped by this treatment cannot be + known. Like Stevenson, she had “a soul of flame in a body of gauze,” + a body to be guarded through the spirit. She worked continuously at her + singing and undoubtedly overdid herself. Early in the year she went over + to Hartford to pay some good-by visit, remaining most of the time in the + home of Charles Dudley Warner, working hard at her singing. Her health did + not improve, and when Katie Leary went to Hartford to arrange for their + departure she was startled at the change in her. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Susy; you are sick,” she said. “You must have the + doctor come.” + </p> + <p> + Susy refused at first, but she grew worse and the doctor was sent for. He + thought her case not very serious—the result, he said, of overwork. + He prescribed some soothing remedies, and advised that she be kept very + quiet, away from company, and that she be taken to her own home, which was + but a step away. It was then that the letter was written and the first + cable sent to England. Mrs. Crane was summoned from Elmira, also Charles + Langdon. Mr. Twichell was notified and came down from his summer place in + the Adirondacks. + </p> + <p> + Susy did not improve. She became rapidly worse, and a few days later the + doctor pronounced her ailment meningitis. This was on the 15th of August—that + hot, terrible August of 1896. Susy's fever increased and she wandered + through the burning rooms in delirium and pain; then her sight left her, + an effect of the disease. She lay down at last, and once, when Katie Leary + was near her, she put her hands on Katie's face and said, “mama.” + She did not speak after that, but sank into unconsciousness, and on the + evening of Tuesday, August 18th, the flame went out forever. + </p> + <p> + To Twichell Clemens wrote of it: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ah, well, Susy died at home. She had that privilege. Her dying + eyes rested upon no thing that was strange to them, but only upon + things which they had known & loved always & which had made her + young years glad; & she had you & Sue & Katie & John & Ellen. + This was happy fortune—I am thankful that it was vouchsafed to her. + If she had died in another house—well, I think I could not have + borne that. To us our house was not unsentient matter—it had a + heart & a soul & eyes to see us with, & approvals & solicitudes & + deep sympathies; it was of us, & we were in its confidence, & lived + in its grace & in the peace of its benediction. We never came home + from an absence that its face did not light up & speak out its + eloquent welcome—& we could not enter it unmoved. And could we + now? oh, now, in spirit we should enter it unshod. +</pre> + <p> + A tugboat with Dr. Rice, Mr. Twichell, and other friends of the family + went down the bay to meet the arriving vessel with Mrs. Clemens and Clara + on board. It was night when the ship arrived, and they did not show + themselves until morning; then at first to Clara. There had been little + need to formulate a message—their presence there was enough—and + when a moment later Clara returned to the stateroom her mother looked into + her face and she also knew. Susy already had been taken to Elmira, and at + half past ten that night Mrs. Clemens and Clara arrived there by the + through train—the same train and in the same coach which they had + taken one year and one month before on their journey westward around the + world. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + And again Susy was there, not waving her welcome in the glare of the + lights as she had waved her farewell to us thirteen months before, but + lying white and fair in her coffin in the house where she was born. + </pre> + <p> + They buried her with the Langdon relatives and the little brother, and + ordered a headstone with some lines which they had found in Australia: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Warm summer sun shine kindly here; + Warm southern wind blow softly here; + Green sod above lie light, lie light + Good night, dear heart, good night, good night. +—[These lines at first were generally attributed to Clemens himself. +When this was reported to him he ordered the name of the Australian +poet, Robert Richardson, cut beneath them. The word “southern” in the +original read “northern,” as in Australia, the warm wind is from the +north. Richardson died in England in 1901.] +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0201" id="link2H_4_0201"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXCIV. WINTER IN TEDWORTH SQUARE + </h2> + <p> + Mrs. Clemens, Clara, and Jean, with Katie Leary, sailed for England + without delay. Arriving there, they gave up the house in Guildford, and in + a secluded corner of Chelsea, on the tiny and then almost unknown Tedworth + Square (No. 23), they hid themselves away for the winter. They did not + wish to be visited; they did not wish their whereabouts known except to a + few of their closest friends. They wanted to be alone with their sorrow, + and not a target for curious attention. Perhaps not a dozen people in + London knew their address and the outside world was ignorant of it + altogether. It was through this that a wild report started that Mark + Twain's family had deserted him—that ill and in poverty he was + laboring alone to pay his debts. This report—exploited in + five-column head-lines by a hyper-hysterical paper of that period received + wide attention. + </p> + <p> + James Ross Clemens, of the St. Louis branch, a nephew of Frau von Versen, + was in London just then, and wrote at once, through Chatto & Windus, + begging Mark Twain to command his relative's purse. The reply to this kind + offer was an invitation to tea, and “Young Doctor Jim,” as he + was called, found his famous relative by no means abandoned or in want, + but in pleasant quarters, with his family still loyal. The general + impression survived, however, that Mark Twain was sorely pressed, and the + New York Herald headed a public benefit fund for the payment of his debts. + The Herald subscribed one thousand dollars on its own account, and Andrew + Carnegie followed with another thousand, but the enterprise was barely + under way when Clemens wrote a characteristic letter, in which he declared + that while he would have welcomed the help offered, being weary of debt, + his family did not wish him to accept and so long as he was able to take + care of them through his own efforts. + </p> + <p> + Meantime he was back into literary harness; a notebook entry for October + 24, 1896, says: + </p> + <p> + “Wrote the fist chapter of the book to-day-'Around the World'.” + </p> + <p> + He worked at it uninterruptedly, for in work there was respite, though his + note-books show something of his mental torture, also his spiritual + heresies. His series of mistakes and misfortunes, ending with the death of + Susy, had tended to solidify his attitude of criticism toward things in + general and the human race in particular. + </p> + <p> + “Man is the only animal that blushes, or that needs to,” was + one of his maxims of this period, and in another place he sets down the + myriad diseases which human flesh is heir to and his contempt for a + creature subject to such afflictions and for a Providence that could + invent them. Even Mrs. Clemens felt the general sorrow of the race. + “Poor, poor human nature,” she wrote once during that long, + gloomy winter. + </p> + <p> + Many of Mark Twain's notes refer to Susy. In one he says: + </p> + <p> + “I did not hear her glorious voice at its supremest—that was + in Hartford a month or two before the end.” + </p> + <p> + Notes of heavy regret most of them are, and self-reproach and the + hopelessness of it all. In one place he records her accomplishment of + speech, adding: + </p> + <p> + “And I felt like saying 'you marvelous child,' but never said it; to + my sorrow I remember it now. But I come of an undemonstrative race.” + </p> + <p> + He wrote to Twichell: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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—& I took it as the accolade from the hand of + genius. I see now—as Livy always saw—that she had greatness in + her, & that she herself was dimly conscious of it. + + And now she is dead—& I can never tell her. +</pre> + <p> + And closing a letter to Howells: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Good-by. Will healing ever come, or life have value again? + + And shall we see Susy? Without doubt! without a shadow of doubt if + it can furnish opportunity to break our hearts again. +</pre> + <p> + On November 26th, Thanksgiving, occurs this note: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “We did not celebrate it. Seven years ago Susy gave her play for + the first time.” + </pre> + <p> + And on Christmas: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + London, 11.30 Xmas morning. The Square & adjacent streets are not + merely quiet, they are dead. There is not a sound. At intervals a + Sunday-looking person passes along. The family have been to + breakfast. We three sat & talked as usual, but the name of the day + was not mentioned. It was in our minds, but we said nothing. +</pre> + <p> + And a little later: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Since bad luck struck us it is risky for people to have to do with + us. Our cook's sweetheart was healthy. He is rushing for the grave + now. Emily, one of the maids, has lost the sight of one eye and the + other is in danger. Wallace carried up coal & blacked the boots two + months—has suddenly gone to the hospital—pleurisy and a bad case. + We began to allow ourselves to see a good deal of our friends, the + Bigelows—straightway their baby sickened & died. Next Wilson got + his skull fractured. + + January 23, 1897. I wish the Lord would disguise Himself in + citizen's clothing & make a personal examination of the sufferings + of the poor in London. He would be moved & would do something for + them Himself. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0203" id="link2H_4_0203"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXCV. “PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS OF JOAN OF ARC”. + </h2> + <p> + Meantime certain publishing events had occurred. During his long voyage a + number of Mark Twain's articles had appeared in the magazines, among them + “Mental Telegraphy Again,” in Harpers, and in the North + American Review that scorching reply to Paul Bourget's reflections upon + America. Clemens could criticize his own nation freely enough, but he + would hardly be patient under the strictures of a Frenchman, especially + upon American women. + </p> + <p> + There had been book publication also during this period. The Harpers had + issued an edition of 'Tom Sawyer Abroad', which included another Tom and + Huck story 'Tom Sawyer, Detective', written in Paris, and the contents of + the old White Elephant book. + </p> + <p> + But there had been a much more important book event. The chapters of his + story of Joan having run their course in Harper's Magazine had been issued + as a volume. + </p> + <p> + As already mentioned, Joan had been early recognized as Mark Twain's work, + and it was now formally acknowledged as such on the title-page. It is not + certain now that the anonymous beginning had been a good thing. Those who + began reading it for its lofty charm, with the first hint of Mark Twain as + the author became fearful of some joke or burlesque. Some who now promptly + hastened to read it as Mark Twain's, were inclined to be disappointed at + the very lack of these features. When the book itself appeared the general + public, still doubtful as to its merits, gave it a somewhat dubious + reception. The early sales were disappointing. + </p> + <p> + Nor were the reviewers enthusiastic, as a rule. Perhaps they did not read + it over-carefully, or perhaps they were swayed a good deal by a sort of + general verdict that, in attempting 'Joan of Arc', Mark Twain had gone out + of his proper field. Furthermore, there were a number of Joan books + published just then, mainly sober, somber books, in which Joan was + pictured properly enough as a saint, and never as anything else—never + being permitted to smile or enjoy the lighter side of life, to be a human + being, in fact, at all. + </p> + <p> + But this is just the very wonder of Mark Twain's Joan. She is a saint; she + is rare, she is exquisite, she is all that is lovely, and she is a human + being besides. Considered from every point of view, Joan of Arc is Mark + Twain's supreme literary expression, the loftiest, the most delicate, the + most luminous example of his work. It is so from the first word of its + beginning, that wonderful “Translator's Preface,” to the last + word of the last chapter, where he declares that the figure of Joan with + the martyr's crown upon her head shall stand for patriotism through all + time. + </p> + <p> + The idyllic picture of Joan's childhood with her playmates around the + fairy tree is so rare in its delicacy and reality that any attempt to + recall it here would disturb its bloom. The little poem, “L'Arbre + fee de Bourlemont,” Mark Twain's own composition, is a perfect note, + and that curiously enough, for in versification he was not likely to be + strong. Joan's girlhood, the picture of her father's humble cottage, the + singing there by the wandering soldier of the great song of Roland which + stirred her deepest soul with the love of France, Joan's heroism among her + playmates, her wisdom, her spiritual ideals-are not these all reverently + and nobly told, and with that touch of tenderness which only Mark Twain + could give? And the story of her voices, and her march, and of her first + appearance before the wavering king. And then the great coronation scene + at Rheims, and the dramatic moment when Joan commands the march on Paris—the + dragging of the hopeless trial, and that last, fearful day of execution, + what can surpass these? Nor must we forget those charming, brighter + moments where Joan is shown just as a human being, laughing until the + tears run at the absurdities of the paladin or the simple home prattle of + her aged father and uncle. Only here and there does one find a touch—and + it is never more than that—of the forbidden thing, the burlesque + note which was so likely to be Mark Twain's undoing. + </p> + <p> + It seems incredible to-day that any reader, whatever his preconceived + notions of the writer might have been, could have followed these chapters + without realizing their majesty, and that this tale of Joan was a book + such as had not before been written. Let any one who read it then and + doubted, go back and consider it now. A surprise will await him, and it + will be worth while. He will know the true personality of Joan of Arc more + truly than ever before, and he will love her as the author loved her, for + “the most innocent, the most lovely, the most adorable child the + ages have produced.” + </p> + <p> + The tale is matchless in its workmanship. The quaint phrasing of the old + Sieur de Conte is perfectly adapted to the subject-matter, and the lovely + character of the old narrator himself is so perfectly maintained that we + find ourselves all the time as in an atmosphere of consecration, and feel + that somehow we are helping him to weave a garland to lay on Joan's tomb. + Whatever the tale he tells, he is never more than a step away. We are + within sound of his voice, we can touch his presence; we ride with him + into battle; we laugh with him in the by-play and humors of warfare; we + sit hushed at his side through the long, fearful days of the deadly trial, + and when it is all ended it is to him that we turn to weep for Joan—with + him only would we mingle our tears. It is all bathed in the atmosphere of + romance, but it is the ultimate of realism, too; not hard, sordid, ugly + realism, but noble, spiritual, divine realism, belonging to no particular + class or school—a creation apart. Not all of Mark Twain's tales have + been convincing, but there is no chapter of his Joan that we doubt. We + believe it all happened—we know that it must have happened, for our + faith in the Sieur de Conte never for an instant wavers. + </p> + <p> + Aside from the personality of the book—though, in truth, one never + is aside from it—the tale is a marvel in its pageantry, its splendid + panorama and succession of stirring and stately scenes. The fight before + Orleans, the taking of the Tourelles and of Jargeau, all the movement of + that splendid march to Rheims, there are few better battle-pictures than + these. Howells, always interested mainly in the realism of to-day, in his + review hints at staginess in the action and setting and even in Joan + herself. But Howells himself did not accept his earlier judgment as final. + Five years later he wrote: + </p> + <p> + “She is indeed realized to the modern sense as few figures of the + past have been realized in fiction.” + </p> + <p> + As for the action, suppose we consider a brief bit of Joan's warfare. It + is from the attack on the Tourelles: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Joan mounted her horse now with her staff about her, and when our + people saw us coming they raised a great shout, and were at once + eager for another assault on the boulevard. Joan rode straight to + the foss where she had received her wound, and, standing there in + the rain of bolts and arrows, she ordered the paladin to let her + long standard blow free, and to note when its fringes should touch + the fortress. Presently he said: + + “It touches.” + + “Now, then,” said Joan to the waiting battalions, “the place is + yours—enter in! Bugles, sound the assault! Now, then—all + together—go!” + + And go it was. You never saw anything like it. We swarmed up the + ladders and over the battlements like a wave—and the place was our + property. Why, one might live a thousand years and never see so + gorgeous a thing as that again.... + + We were busy and never heard the five cannon-shots fired, but they + were fired a moment after Joan had ordered the assault; and so, + while we were hammering and being hammered in the smaller fortress, + the reserve on the Orleans side poured across the bridge and + attacked the Tourelles from that side. A fireboat was brought down + and moored under the drawbridge which connected the Tourelles with + our boulevard; wherefore, when at last we drove our English ahead of + us, and they tried to cross that drawbridge and join their friends + in the Tourelles, the burning timbers gave way under them and + emptied them in a mass into the river in their heavy armor—and a + pitiful sight it was to see brave men die such a death as that. + + “God pity them!” said Joan, and wept to see that sorrowful + spectacle. She said those gentle words and wept those compassionate + tears, although one of those perishing men had grossly insulted her + with a coarse name three days before when she had sent him a message + asking him to surrender. That was their leader, Sir William + Glasdale, a most valorous knight. He was clothed all in steel; so + he plunged under the water like a lance, and of course came up no + more. + + We soon patched a sort of bridge together and threw ourselves + against the last stronghold of the English power that barred Orleans + from friends and supplies. Before the sun was quite down Joan's + forever memorable day's work was finished, her banner floated from + the fortress of the Tourelles, her promise was fulfilled, she had + raised the siege of Orleans! +</pre> + <p> + England had resented the Yankee, but it welcomed Joan. Andrew Lang adored + it, and some years later contemplated dedicating his own book, 'The Maid + of France', to Mark Twain.'—[His letter proposing this dedication, + received in 1909, appears to have been put aside and forgotten by Mr. + Clemens, whose memory had not improved with failing health.] + </p> + <p> + Brander Matthews ranks Huck Finn before Joan of Arc, but that is + understandable. His literary culture and research enable him, in some + measure, to comprehend the production of Joan; whereas to him Huck is pure + magic. Huck is not altogether magic to those who know the West—the + character of that section and the Mississippi River, especially of an + older time—it is rather inspiration resulting from these existing + things. Joan is a truer literary magic—the reconstruction of a + far-vanished life and time. To reincarnate, as in a living body of the + present, that marvelous child whose life was all that was pure and exalted + and holy, is veritable necromancy and something more. It is the apotheosis + of history. + </p> + <p> + Throughout his life Joan of Arc had been Mark Twain's favorite character + in the world's history. His love for her was a beautiful and a sacred + thing. He adored young maidenhood always and nobility of character, and he + was always the champion of the weak and the oppressed. The combination of + these characteristics made him the ideal historian of an individuality and + of a career like hers. It is fitting that in his old age (he was nearing + sixty when it was finished) he should have written this marvelously + beautiful thing. He could not have written it at an earlier time. It had + taken him all these years to prepare for it; to become softened, to + acquire the delicacy of expression, the refinement of feeling, necessary + to the achievement. + </p> + <p> + It was the only book of all he had written that Mark Twain considered + worthy of this dedication: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1870 To MY WIFE 1895 + OLIVIA LANGDON CLEMENS + THIS BOOK + + is tendered on our wedding anniversary in grateful recognition + of her twenty-five years of valued service as my literary + adviser and editor. + THE AUTHOR +</pre> + <p> + The Personal Recollections of Joan of Arc was a book not understood in the + beginning, but to-day the public, that always renders justice in the end, + has reversed its earlier verdict. The demand for Joan has multiplied many + fold and it continues to multiply with every year. Its author lived long + enough to see this change and to be comforted by it, for though the + creative enthusiasm in his other books soon passed, his glory in the tale + of Joan never died. On his seventy-third birthday, when all of his + important books were far behind him, and he could judge them without + prejudice, he wrote as his final verdict: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Nov. 30, 1908 +</pre> + <p> + I like the Joan of Arc best of all my books; & it is the best; I know + it perfectly well. And besides, it furnished me seven times the pleasure + afforded me by any of the others: 12 years of preparation & a years of + writing. The others needed no preparation, & got none. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MARK TWAIN. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0204" id="link2H_4_0204"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXCVI. MR. ROGERS AND HELEN KELLER + </h2> + <p> + It was during the winter of '96, in London, that Clemens took an active + interest in the education of Helen Keller and enlisted the most valuable + adherent in that cause, that is to say, Henry H. Rogers. It was to Mrs. + Rogers that he wrote, heading his letter: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + For & in behalf + of Helen Keller, + Stone blind & deaf, + & formerly dumb. + + DEAR MRS. ROGERS,—Experience has convinced me that when one + wished to set a hard-worked man at something which he mightn't + prefer to be bothered with it is best to move upon him behind his + wife. If she can't convince him it isn't worth while for other + people to try. + + Mr. Rogers will remember our visit with that astonishing girl at + Lawrence Hutton's house when she was fourteen years old. Last July, + in Boston, when she was 16 she underwent the Harvard examination for + admission to Radcliffe College. She passed without a single + condition. She was allowed only the same amount of time that is + granted to other applicants, & this was shortened in her case by the + fact that the question-papers had to be read to her. Yet she scored + an average of 90, as against an average of 78 on the part of the + other applicants. + + It won't do for America to allow this marvelous child to retire from + her studies because of poverty. If she can go on with them she will + make a fame that will endure in history for centuries. Along her + special lines she is the most extraordinary product of all the ages. + + There is danger that she must retire from the struggle for a college + degree for lack of support for herself & for Miss Sullivan (the + teacher who has been with her from the start—Mr. Rogers will + remember her). Mrs. Hutton writes to ask me to interest rich + Englishmen in her case, & I would gladly try, but my secluded life + will not permit it. I see nobody. Nobody knows my address. + Nothing but the strictest hiding can enable me to write my book in + time. + + So I thought of this scheme: Beg you to lay siege to your husband & + get him to interest himself and Messrs. John D. & William + Rockefeller & the other Standard Oil chiefs in Helen's case; get + them to subscribe an annual aggregate of six or seven hundred or a + thousand dollars—& agree to continue this for three or four years, + until she has completed her college course. I'm not trying to limit + their generosity—indeed no; they may pile that Standard Oil Helen + Keller College Fund as high as they please; they have my consent. + + Mrs. Hutton's idea is to raise a permanent fund, the interest upon + which shall support Helen & her teacher & put them out of the fear + of want. I sha'n't say a word against it, but she will find it a + difficult & disheartening job, & meanwhile what is to become of that + miraculous girl? + + No, for immediate and sound effectiveness, the thing is for you to + plead with Mr. Rogers for this hampered wonder of your sex, & send + him clothed with plenary powers to plead with the other chiefs—they + have spent mountains of money upon the worthiest benevolences, & I + think that the same spirit which moved them to put their hands down + through their hearts into their pockets in those cases will answer + “Here!” when its name is called in this one. + + There—I don't need to apologize to you or to H. H. for this appeal + that I am making; I know you too well for that: + + Good-by, with love to all of you, + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> + <p> + The result of this letter was that Mr. Rogers personally took charge of + Helen Keller's fortunes, and out of his own means made it possible for her + to continue her education and to achieve for herself the enduring fame + which Mark Twain had foreseen. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rogers wrote that, by a curious coincidence, a letter had come to him + from Mrs. Hutton on the same morning that Mrs. Rogers had received hers + from Tedworth Square. Clemens sent grateful acknowledgments to Mrs. + Rogers. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR MRS. ROGERS,—It is superb! And I am beyond measure grateful + to you both. I knew you would be interested in that wonderful girl, + & that Mr. Rogers was already interested in her & touched by her; & + I was sure that if nobody else helped her you two would; but you + have gone far & away beyond the sum I expected—may your lines fall + in pleasant places here, & Hereafter for it! + + The Huttons are as glad & grateful as they can be, & I am glad for + their sakes as well as for Helen's. + + I want to thank Mr. Rogers for crucifying himself on the same old + cross between Bliss & Harper; & goodness knows I hope he will come + to enjoy it above all other dissipations yet, seeing that it has + about it the elements of stability & permanency. However, at any + time that he says sign we're going to do it. + + Ever sincerely yours, + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0205" id="link2H_4_0205"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXCVII. FINISHING THE BOOK OF TRAVEL. + </h2> + <p> + One reading the Equator book to-day, and knowing the circumstances under + which it was written, might be puzzled to reconcile the secluded household + and its atmosphere of sorrow with certain gaieties of the subject matter. + The author himself wondered at it, and to Howells wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I don't mean that I am miserable; no-worse than that—indifferent. + Indifferent to nearly everything but work. I like that; I enjoy it, + & stick to it. I do it without purpose & without ambition; merely + for the love of it. Indeed, I am a mud-image; & it puzzles me to + know what it is in me that writes & has comedy fancies & finds + pleasure in phrasing them. It is the law of our nature, of course, + or it wouldn't happen; the thing in me forgets the presence of the + mud-image, goes its own way wholly unconscious of it & apparently of + no kinship with it. +</pre> + <p> + He saw little company. Now and, then a good friend, J.Y.W. MacAlister, + came in for a smoke with him. Once Clemens sent this line: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + You speak a language which I understand. I would like to see you. + Could you come and smoke some manilas; I would, of course, say dine, + but my family are hermits & cannot see any one, but I would have a + fire in my study, & if you came at any time after your dinner that + might be most convenient for you you would find me & a welcome. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens occasionally went out to dinner, but very privately. He dined with + Bram Stoker, who invited Anthony Hope and one or two others, and with the + Chattos and Mr. Percy Spalding; also with Andrew Lang, who wrote, “Your + old friend, Lord Lome, wants to see you again”; with the Henry M. + Stanleys and Poultney Bigelow, and with Francis H. Skrine, a government + official he had met in India. But in all such affairs he was protected + from strangers and his address was kept a secret from the public. Finally, + the new-found cousin, Dr. Jim Clemens, fell ill, and the newspapers had it + presently that Mark Twain was lying at the point of death. A reporter + ferreted him out and appeared at Tedworth Square with cabled instructions + from his paper. He was a young man, and innocently enough exhibited his + credentials. His orders read: + </p> + <p> + “If Mark Twain very ill, five hundred words. If dead, send one + thousand.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens smiled grimly as he handed back the cable. + </p> + <p> + “You don't need as much as that,” he said. “Just say the + report of my death has been grossly exaggerated.” + </p> + <p> + The young man went away quite seriously, and it was not until he was + nearly to his office that he saw the joke. Then, of course, it was flashed + all over the world. + </p> + <p> + Clemens kept grinding steadily at the book, for it was to be a very large + volume—larger than he had ever written before. To MacAlister, April + 6, 1897, he wrote, replying to some invitation: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ah, but I mustn't stir from my desk before night now when the + publisher is hurrying me & I am almost through. I am up at work + now—4 o'clock in the morning-and a few more spurts will pull me + through. You come down here & smoke; that is better than tempting a + working-man to strike & go to tea. + + And it would move me too deeply to see Miss Corelli. When I saw her + last it was on the street in Homburg, & Susy was walking with me. +</pre> + <p> + On April 13th he makes a note-book entry: “I finished my book + to-day,” and on the 15th he wrote MacAlister, inclosing some bits of + manuscript: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I finished my book yesterday, and the madam edited this stuff out of + it—on the ground that the first part is not delicate & the last + part is indelicate. Now, there's a nice distinction for you—& + correctly stated, too, & perfectly true. +</pre> + <p> + It may interest the reader to consider briefly the manner in which Mark + Twain's “editor” dealt with his manuscript, and a few pages of + this particular book remain as examples. That he was not always entirely + tractable, or at least submissive, but that he did yield, and graciously, + is clearly shown. + </p> + <p> + In one of her comments Mrs. Clemens wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Page 597. I hate to say it, but it seems to me that you go too + minutely into particulars in describing the feats of the + aboriginals. I felt it in the boomerang-throwing. +</pre> + <p> + And Clemens just below has written: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Boomerang has been furnished with a special train—that is, I've + turned it into “Appendix.” Will that answer? + + Page 1002. I don't like the “shady-principled cat that has a family + in every port.” + + Then I'll modify him just a little. + + Page 1020. 9th line from the top. I think some other word would be + better than “stench.” You have used that pretty often. + + But can't I get it in anywhere? You've knocked it out every time. + Out it goes again. And yet “stench” is a noble, good word. + + Page 1038. I hate to have your father pictured as lashing a slave + boy. + + It's out, and my father is whitewashed. + + Page 1050. 2d line from the bottom. Change breech-clout. It's a + word that you love and I abominate. I would take that and “offal” + out of the language. + + You are steadily weakening the English tongue, Livy. + + Page 1095. Perhaps you don't care, but whoever told you that the + Prince's green stones were rubies told an untruth. They were superb + emeralds. Those strings of pearls and emeralds were famous all over + Bombay. + + All right, I'll make them emeralds, but it loses force. Green + rubies is a fresh thing. And besides it was one of the Prince's own + staff liars that told me. +</pre> + <p> + That the book was not quite done, even after the triumphant entry of April + 13th, is shown by another note which followed something more than a month + later: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + May 18, 1897. Finished the book again—addition of 30,000 words. +</pre> + <p> + And to MacAlister he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have finished the book at last—and finished it for good this + time. Now I am ready for dissipation with a good conscience. What + night will you come down & smoke? +</pre> + <p> + His book finished, Clemens went out rather more freely, and one evening + allowed MacAlister to take him around to the Savage Club. There happened + to be a majority of the club committee present, and on motion Mark Twain + was elected an honorary life member. There were but three others on whom + this distinction had been conferred—Stanley, Nansen, and the Prince + of Wales. When they told Mark Twain this he said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, it must make the Prince feel mighty fine.”—[In a + volume of Savage Club anecdotes the date of Mark Twain's election to + honorary membership is given as 1899. Clemens's notebook gives it in + 1897.] + </p> + <p> + He did not intend to rest; in another entry we find: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + May 23, 1897. Wrote first chapter of above story to-day. +</pre> + <p> + The “above story” is a synopsis of a tale which he tried then + and later in various forms—a tale based on a scientific idea that + one may dream an episode covering a period of years in minute detail in + what, by our reckoning, may be no more than a few brief seconds. In this + particular form of the story a man sits down to write some memories and + falls into a doze. The smell of his cigarette smoke causes him to dream of + the burning of his home, the destruction of his family, and of a long + period of years following. Awakening a few seconds later, and confronted + by his wife and children, he refuses to believe in their reality, + maintaining that this condition, and not the other, is the dream. Clemens + tried the psychological literary experiment in as many as three different + ways during the next two or three years, and each at considerable length; + but he developed none of them to his satisfaction, or at least he brought + none of them to conclusion. Perhaps the most weird of these attempts, and + the most intensely interesting, so long as the verisimilitude is + maintained, is a dream adventure in a drop of water which, through an + incredible human reduction to microbic, even atomic, proportions, has + become a vast tempestuous sea. Mark Twain had the imagination for these + undertakings and the literary workmanship, lacking only a definite plan + for development of his tale—a lack which had brought so many of his + literary ventures to the rocks. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0206" id="link2H_4_0206"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXCVIII. A SUMMER IN SWITZERLAND + </h2> + <p> + The Queen's Jubilee came along—June 22, 1897, being the day chosen + to celebrate the sixty-year reign. Clemens had been asked to write about + it for the American papers, and he did so after his own ideas, + illustrating some of his material with pictures of his own selection. The + selections were made from various fashion-plates, which gave him a chance + to pick the kind of a prince or princess or other royal figure that he + thought fitted his description without any handicap upon his imagination. + Under his portrait of Henry V. (a very correctly dressed person in top hat + and overcoat) he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In the original the King has a crown on. That is no kind of a thing + for the King to wear when he has come home on business. He ought to + wear something he can collect taxes in. You will find this + representation of Henry V. active, full of feeling, full of + sublimity. I have pictured him looking out over the battle of + Agincourt and studying up where to begin. +</pre> + <p> + Mark Twain's account of the Jubilee probably satisfied most readers; but + James Tufts, then managing editor of the San Francisco Examiner, had a + rather matter-of-fact Englishman on the staff, who, after reading the + report, said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, Jim Tufts, I hope you are satisfied with that Mark Twain + cable.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes,” said Tufts; “aren't you?” + </p> + <p> + “I should say not. Just look what he says about the number of + soldiers. He says, 'I never saw so many soldiers anywhere except on the + stage of a theater.' Why, Tufts, don't you know that the soldiers in the + theater are the same old soldiers marching around and around? There aren't + more than a hundred soldiers in the biggest army ever put on the stage.” + </p> + <p> + It was decided to vacate the house in Tedworth Square and go to + Switzerland for the summer. Mrs. Crane and Charles Langdon's daughter, + Julia, joined them early in July, and they set out for Switzerland a few + days later. Just before leaving, Clemens received an offer from Pond of + fifty thousand dollars for one hundred and twenty-five nights on the + platform in America. It was too great a temptation to resist at once, and + they took it under advisement. Clemens was willing to accept, but Mrs. + Clemens opposed the plan. She thought his health no longer equal to steady + travel. She believed that with continued economy they would be able to + manage their problem without this sum. In the end the offer was declined. + </p> + <p> + They journeyed to Switzerland by way of Holland and Germany, the general + destination being Lucerne. They did not remain there, however. They found + a pretty little village farther up the lake—Weggis, at the foot of + the Rigi—where, in the Villa Buhlegg, they arranged for the summer + at very moderate rates indeed. Weggis is a beautiful spot, looking across + the blue water to Mount Pilatus, the lake shore dotted with white + villages. Down by the water, but a few yards from the cottage—for it + was scarcely a villa except by courtesy—there was a little + inclosure, and a bench under a large tree, a quiet spot where Clemens + often sat to rest and smoke. The fact is remembered there to-day, and + recorded. A small tablet has engraved upon it “Mark Twain Ruhe.” + Farther along the shore he discovered a neat, white cottage were some + kindly working-people agreed to rent him an upper room for a study. It was + a sunny room with windows looking out upon the lake, and he worked there + steadily. To Twichell he wrote: + </p> + <p> + This is the charmingest place we have ever lived in for repose and + restfulness, superb scenery whose beauty undergoes a perpetual change from + one miracle to another, yet never runs short of fresh surprises and new + inventions. We shall always come here for the summers if we can. + </p> + <p> + The others have climbed the Rigi, he says, and he expects to some day if + Twichell will come and climb it with him. They had climbed it together + during that summer vagabondage, nineteen years before. + </p> + <p> + He was full of enthusiasm over his work. To F. H. Skrine, in London, he + wrote that he had four or five books all going at once, and his note-book + contains two or three pages merely of titles of the stories he proposed to + write. + </p> + <p> + But of the books begun that summer at Weggis none appears to have been + completed. There still exists a bulky, half-finished manuscript about Tom + and Huck, most of which was doubtless written at this time, and there is + the tale already mentioned, the “dream” story; and another + tale with a plot of intricate psychology and crime; still another with the + burning title of “Hell-Fire Hotchkiss”—a story of + Hannibal life—and some short stories. Clemens appeared to be at this + time out of tune with fiction. Perhaps his long book of travel had + disqualified his invention. He realized that these various literary + projects were leading nowhere, and one after another he dropped them. The + fact that proofs of the big book were coming steadily may also have + interfered with his creative faculty. + </p> + <p> + As was his habit, Clemens formed the acquaintance of a number of the + native residents, and enjoyed talking to them about their business and + daily affairs. They were usually proud and glad of these attentions, quick + to see the humor of his remarks. + </p> + <p> + But there was an old watchmaker-an 'Uhrmacher' who remained indifferent. + He would answer only in somber monosyllables, and he never smiled. Clemens + at last brought the cheapest kind of a watch for repairs. + </p> + <p> + “Be very careful of this watch,” he said. “It is a fine + one.” + </p> + <p> + The old man merely glared at him. + </p> + <p> + “It is not a valuable watch. It is a worthless watch.” + </p> + <p> + “But I gave six francs for it in Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “Still, it is a cheap watch,” was the unsmiling answer. Defeat + waits somewhere for every conqueror. + </p> + <p> + Which recalls another instance, though of a different sort. On one of his + many voyages to America, he was sitting on deck in a steamer-chair when + two little girls stopped before him. One of them said, hesitatingly: + </p> + <p> + “Are you Mr. Mark Twain?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, dear, they call me that.” + </p> + <p> + “Won't you please say something funny?” + </p> + <p> + And for the life of him he couldn't make the required remark. + </p> + <p> + In one of his letters to Twichell of that summer, Clemens wrote of the + arrival there of the colored jubilee singers, always favorites of his, and + of his great delight in them. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We went down to the village hotel & bought our tickets & entered the + beer-hall, where a crowd of German & Swiss men & women sat grouped + around tables with their beer-mugs in front of them—self-contained + & unimpressionable-looking people—an indifferent & unposted & + disheartening audience—& up at the far end of the room sat the + jubilees in a row. The singers got up & stood—the talking & glass- + jingling went on. Then rose & swelled out above those common + earthly sounds one of those rich chords, the secret of whose make + only the jubilees possess, & a spell fell upon that house. It was + fine to see the faces light up with the pleased wonder & surprise of + it. No one was indifferent any more; & when the singers finished + the camp was theirs. It was a triumph. It reminded me of Lancelot + riding in Sir Kay's armor, astonishing complacent knights who + thought they had struck a soft thing. The jubilees sang a lot of + pieces. Arduous & painstaking cultivation has not diminished or + artificialized their music, but on the contrary—to my surprise—has + mightily reinforced its eloquence and beauty. Away back in the + beginning—to my mind—their music made all other vocal music cheap; + & that early notion is emphasized now. It is entirely beautiful to + me; & it moves me infinitely more than any other music can. I think + that in the jubilees & their songs America has produced the + perfectest flower of the ages; & I wish it were a foreign product, + so that she would worship it & lavish money on it & go properly + crazy over it. + + Now, these countries are different: they would do all that if it + were native. It is true they praise God, but that is merely a + formality, & nothing in it; they open out their whole hearts to no + foreigner. +</pre> + <p> + As the first anniversary of Susy's death drew near the tension became very + great. A gloom settled on the household, a shadow of restraint. On the + morning of the 18th Clemens went early to his study. Somewhat later Mrs. + Clemens put on her hat and wrap, and taking a small bag left the house. + The others saw her go toward the steamer-landing, but made no inquiries as + to her destination. They guessed that she would take the little boat that + touched at the various points along the lake shore. This she did, in fact, + with no particular plan as to where she would leave it. One of the + landing-places seemed quiet and inviting, and there she went ashore, and + taking a quiet room at a small inn spent the day in reading Susy's + letters. It was evening when she returned, and her husband, lonely and + anxious, was waiting for her at the landing. He had put in the day writing + the beautiful poem, “In Memoriam,” a strain lofty, tender, and + dirge-like-liquidly musical, though irregular in form.—[Now included + in the Uniform Edition.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0207" id="link2H_4_0207"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CXCIX. WINTER IN VIENNA + </h2> + <p> + They remained two months in Weggis—until toward the end of + September; thence to Vienna, by way of Innsbruck, in the Tyrol, “where + the mountains seem more approachable than in Switzerland.” Clara + Clemens wished to study the piano under Leschetizky, and this would take + them to Austria for the winter. Arriving at Vienna, they settled in the + Hotel Metropole, on the banks of the Danube. Their rooms, a corner suite, + looked out on a pretty green square, the Merzimplatz, and down on the + Franz Josef quay. A little bridge crosses the river there, over which all + kinds of life are continually passing. On pleasant days Clemens liked to + stand on this bridge and watch the interesting phases of the Austrian + capital. The Vienna humorist, Poetzl, quickly formed his acquaintance, and + they sometimes stood there together. Once while Clemens was making some + notes, Poetzl interested the various passers by asking each one—the + errand-boy, the boot-black, the chestnut-vender, cabmen, and others—to + guess who the stranger was and what he wanted. Most of them recognized him + when their attention was called, for the newspapers had proudly heralded + his arrival and his picture was widely circulated. + </p> + <p> + Clemens had scarcely arrived in Vienna, in fact, before he was pursued by + photographers, journalists, and autograph-hunters. The Viennese were his + fond admirers, and knowing how the world elsewhere had honored him they + were determined not to be outdone. The 'Neues Viener Tageblatt', a + fortnight after his arrival, said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It is seldom that a foreign author has found such a hearty reception + in Vienna as that accorded to Mark Twain, who not only has the + reputation of being the foremost humorist in the whole civilized. + world, but one whose personality arouses everywhere a peculiar + interest on account of the genuine American character which sways + it. +</pre> + <p> + He was the guest of honor at the Concordia Club soon after his arrival, + and the great ones of Vienna assembled to do him honor. Charlemagne Tower, + then American minister, was also one of the guests. Writers, diplomats, + financiers, municipal officials, everybody in Vienna that was worth while, + was there. Clemens gave them a surprise, for when Ferdinand Gross, + Concordia president, introduced him first in English, then in German, Mark + Twain made his reply wholly in the latter language. + </p> + <p> + The paper just quoted gives us a hint of the frolic and wassail of that + old 'Festkneipe' when it says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + At 9 o'clock Mark Twain appeared in the salon, and amid a storm of + applause took his seat at the head of the table. His characteristic + shaggy and flowing mane of hair adorning a youthful countenance + attracted the attention at once of all present. After a few formal + convivial commonplaces the president of the Concordia, Mr. Ferdinand + Gross, delivered an excellent address in English, which he wound up + with a few German sentences. Then Mr. Tower was heard in praise of + his august countryman. In the course of his remarks he said he + could hardly find words enough to express his delight at the + presence of the popular American. Then followed the greatest + attraction of the evening, an impromptu speech by Mark Twain in the + German language, which it is true he has not fully mastered, but + which he nevertheless controls sufficiently well to make it + difficult to detect any harsh foreign accent. He had entitled his + speech, “Die Schrecken der Deutschen Sprache” (the terrors of the + German language). At times he would interrupt himself in English + and ask, with a stuttering smile, “How do you call this word in + German” or “I only know that in mother-tongue.” The Festkneipe + lasted far into the morning hours. +</pre> + <p> + It was not long after their arrival in Vienna that the friction among the + unamalgamated Austrian states flamed into a general outbreak in the + Austrian Reichsrath, or Imperial Parliament. We need not consider just + what the trouble was. Any one wishing to know can learn from Mark Twain's + article on the subject, for it is more clearly pictured there than + elsewhere. It is enough to say here that the difficulty lay mainly between + the Hungarian and German wings of the house; and in the midst of it Dr. + Otto Lecher made his famous speech, which lasted twelve hours without a + break, in order to hold the floor against the opposing forces. Clemens was + in the gallery most of the time while that speech, with its riotous + accompaniment, was in progress.—[“When that house is + legislating you can't tell it from artillery practice.” From Mark + Twain's report, “Stirring Times in Austria,” in Literary + Essays,]—He was intensely interested. Nothing would appeal to him + more than that, unless it should be some great astronomic or geologic + change. He was also present somewhat later when a resolution was + railroaded through which gave the chair the right to invoke the aid of the + military, and he was there when the military arrived and took the + insurgents in charge. It was a very great occasion, a “tremendous + episode,” he says. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The memory of it will outlast all the others that exist to-day. In + the whole history of free parliament the like of it had been seen + but three times before. It takes imposing place among the world's + unforgetable things. I think that in my lifetime I have not twice + seen abiding history made before my eyes, but I know that I have + seen it once. +</pre> + <p> + Wild reports were sent to the American press; among them one that Mark + Twain had been hustled out with the others, and that, having waved his + handkerchief and shouted “Hoch die Deutschen!” he had been + struck by an officer of the law. Of course nothing of the kind happened. + The sergeant-at-arms, who came to the gallery where he sat, said to a + friend who suggested that Clemens be allowed to remain: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know him very well. I recognize him by his pictures, and I + should be very glad to let him stay, but I haven't any choice because of + the strictness of the order.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens, however, immediately ran across a London Times correspondent, who + showed him the way into the first gallery, which it seems was not emptied, + so he lost none of the exhibit. + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain's report of the Austrian troubles, published in Harper's + Magazine the following March and now included with the Literary Essays, + will keep that episode alive and important as literature when otherwise it + would have been merely embalmed, and dimly remembered, as history. + </p> + <p> + It was during these exciting political times in Vienna that a + representative of a New York paper wrote, asking for a Mark Twain + interview. Clemens replied, giving him permission to call. When the + reporter arrived Clemens was at work writing in bed, as was so much his + habit. At the doorway the reporter paused, waiting for a summons to enter. + The door was ajar and he heard Mrs. Clemens say: + </p> + <p> + “Youth, don't you think it will be a little embarrassing for him, + your being in bed?” + </p> + <p> + And he heard Mark Twain's easy, gentle, deliberate voice reply: + </p> + <p> + “Why, Livy, if you think so, we might have the other bed made up for + him.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens became a privileged character in Vienna. Official rules were + modified for his benefit. Everything was made easy for him. Once, on a + certain grand occasion, when nobody was permitted to pass beyond a + prescribed line, he was stopped by a guard, when the officer in charge + suddenly rode up: + </p> + <p> + “Let him pass,” he commanded. “Lieber Gott! Don't you + see it's Herr Mark Twain?” + </p> + <p> + The Clemens apartments at the Metropole were like a court, where with + those of social rank assembled the foremost authors, journalists, + diplomats, painters, philosophers, scientists, of Europe, and therefore of + the world. A sister of the Emperor of Germany lived at the Metropole that + winter and was especially cordial. Mark Twain's daily movements were + chronicled as if he had been some visiting potentate, and, as usual, + invitations and various special permissions poured in. A Vienna paper + announced: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He has been feted and dined from morn till eve. The homes of the + aristocracy are thrown open to him, counts and princes delight to do + him honor, and foreign audiences hang upon the words that fall from + his lips, ready to burst out any instant into roars of laughter. +</pre> + <p> + Deaths never came singly in the Clemens family. It was on the 11th of + December, 1897, something more than a year after the death of Susy, that + Orion Clemens died, at the age of seventy-two. Orion had remained the same + to the end, sensitively concerned as to all his brother's doings, his + fortunes and misfortunes: soaring into the clouds when any good news came; + indignant, eager to lend help and advice in the hour of defeat; loyal, + upright, and generally beloved by those who knew and understood his gentle + nature. He had not been ill, and, in fact, only a few days before he died + had written a fine congratulatory letter on his brother's success in + accumulating means for the payment of his debts, entering enthusiastically + into some literary plans which Mark Twain then had in prospect, offering + himself for caricature if needed. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I would fit in as a fool character, believing, what the Tennessee + mountaineers predicted, that I would grow up to be a great man and go to + Congress. I did not think it worth the trouble to be a common great man + like Andy Johnson. I wouldn't give a pinch of snuff, little as I needed + it, to be anybody, less than Napoleon. So when a farmer took my father's + offer for some chickens under advisement till the next day I said to + myself, “Would Napoleon Bonaparte have taken under advisement till the + next day an offer to sell him some chickens?” + </pre> + <p> + To his last day and hour Orion was the dreamer, always with a new plan. It + was one morning early that he died. He had seated himself at a table with + pencil and paper and was setting down the details of his latest project + when death came to him, kindly enough, in the moment of new hope. + </p> + <p> + There came also, just then, news of the death of their old Hartford + butler, George. It saddened them as if it had been a member of the + household. Jean, especially, wept bitterly. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0208" id="link2H_4_0208"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CC. MARK TWAIN PAYS HIS DEBTS + </h2> + <p> + 'Following the Equator'—[In England, More Tramps Abroad.]—had + come from the press in November and had been well received. It was a + large, elaborate subscription volume, more elaborate than artistic in + appearance. Clemens, wishing to make some acknowledgment to his + benefactor, tactfully dedicated it to young Harry Rogers: + </p> + <p> + “With recognition of what he is, and an apprehension of what he may + become unless he form himself a little more closely upon the model of the + author.” + </p> + <p> + Following the Equator was Mark Twain's last book of travel, and it did not + greatly resemble its predecessors. It was graver than the Innocents + Abroad; it was less inclined to cynicism and burlesque than the Tramp. It + was the thoughtful, contemplative observation and philosophizing of the + soul-weary, world-weary pilgrim who has by no means lost interest, but + only his eager, first enthusiasm. It is a gentler book than the Tramp + Abroad, and for the most part a pleasanter one. It is better history and + more informing. Its humor, too, is of a worthier sort, less likely to be + forced and overdone. The holy Hindoo pilgrim's “itinerary of + salvation” is one of the richest of all Mark Twain's fancies, and is + about the best thing in the book. The revised philosophies of Pudd'nhead + Wilson, that begin each chapter, have many of them passed into our daily + speech. That some of Mark Twain's admirers were disappointed with the new + book is very likely, but there were others who could not praise it enough. + James Whitcomb Riley wrote: + </p> + <p> + DEAR MR. CLEMENS,—For a solid week-night sessions—I have been + glorying in your last book-and if you've ever done anything better, + stronger, or of wholesomer uplift I can't recall it. So here's my heart + and here's my hand with all the augmented faith and applause of your + proudest countryman! It's just a hail I'm sending you across the spaces—not + to call you from your blessed work an instant, but simply to join my voice + in the universal cheer that is steadfastly going up for you. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +As gratefully as delightedly, Your abiding friend, + JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY. +</pre> + <p> + Notwithstanding the belief that the sale of single subscription volumes + had about ended, Bliss did well with the new book. Thirty or forty + thousand copies were placed without much delay, and the accumulated + royalties paid into Mr. Rogers's hands. The burden of debt had become a + nightmare. Clemens wrote: + </p> + <p> + Let us begin on those debts. I cannot bear the weight any longer. It + totally unfits me for work. + </p> + <p> + This was November 10, 1897. December 29th he wrote: + </p> + <p> + Land, we are glad to see those debts diminishing. For the first time in my + life I am getting more pleasure from paying money out than pulling it in. + </p> + <p> + To Howells, January 3d, Clemens wrote that they had “turned the + corner,” and a month later: + </p> + <p> + We've lived close to the bone and saved every cent we could, & there's + no undisputed claim now that we can't cash. There are only two claims + which I dispute & which I mean to look into personally before I pay + them. But they are small. Both together they amount to only $12,500. I + hope you will never get the like of the load saddled onto you that was + saddled onto me 3 years ago. And yet there is such a solid pleasure in + paying the things that I reckon maybe it is worth while to get into that + kind of a hobble after all. Mrs. Clemens gets millions of delight out of + it; & the children have never uttered one complaint about the + scrimping from the beginning. + </p> + <p> + By the end of January, 1898, Mark Twain had accumulated enough money to + make the final payment to his creditors and stand clear of debt. At the + time of his failure he said he had given himself five years in which to + clear himself of the heavy obligation. He had achieved that result in less + than three. The world heralded it as a splendid triumph. + </p> + <p> + Miss Katharine I. Harrison, Henry Rogers's secretary, who had been in + charge of the details, wrote in her letter announcing his freedom: + </p> + <p> + “I wish I could shout it across the water to you so that you would + get it ten days ahead of this letter.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Harrison's letter shows that something like thirteen thousand dollars + would remain to his credit after the last accounts were wiped away. + </p> + <p> + Clemens had kept his financial progress from the press, but the payment of + the final claims was distinctly a matter of news and the papers made the + most of it. Head-lines shouted it, there were long editorials in which + Mark Twain was heralded as a second Walter Scott, though it was hardly + necessary that he should be compared with anybody; he had been in that—as + in those peculiarities which had invited his disaster—just himself. + </p> + <p> + One might suppose now that he had had enough of inventions and commercial + enterprises of every sort that is, one who did not know Mark Twain might + suppose this; but it would not be true. Within a month after the debts + were paid he had negotiated with the great Austrian inventor, Szczepanik, + and his business manager for the American rights of a wonderful + carpet-pattern machine, obtained an option for these rights at fifteen + hundred thousand dollars, and, Sellers-like, was planning to organize a + company with a capital of fifteen hundred million dollars to control + carpet-weaving industries of the world. He records in his note-book that a + certain Mr. Wood, representing the American carpet interests, called upon + him and, in the course of their conversation, asked him at what price he + would sell his option. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I declined, and got away from the subject. I was afraid he would + offer me $500,000 for it. I should have been obliged to take it, + but I was born with a speculative instinct & I did not want that + temptation put in my way. +</pre> + <p> + He wrote to Mr. Rogers about the great scheme, inviting the Standard Oil + to furnish the capital for it—but it appears not to have borne the + test of Mr. Rogers's scrutiny, and is heard of no more. + </p> + <p> + Szczepanik had invented the 'Fernseher', or Telelectroscope, the machine + by which one sees at a distance. Clemens would have invested heavily in + this, too, for he had implicit faith in its future, but the 'Fernseher' + was already controlled for the Paris Exposition; so he could only employ + Szczepanik as literary material, which he did in two instances: “The + Austrian Edison Keeping School Again” and “From the London + Times of 1904”—magazine articles published in the Century + later in the year. He was fond of Szczepanik and Szczepanik's backer, Mr. + Kleinburg. In one of his note-book entries he says: + </p> + <p> + Szczepanik is not a Paige. He is a gentleman; his backer, Mr. Kleinburg, + is a gentleman, too, yet is not a Clemens—that is to say, he is not + an ass. + </p> + <p> + Clemens did not always consult his financial adviser, Rogers, any more + than he always consulted his spiritual adviser, Twichell, or his literary + adviser, Howells, when he intended to commit heresies in their respective + provinces. Somewhat later an opportunity came along to buy an interest in + a preparation of skimmed milk, an invalid food by which the human race was + going to be healed of most of its ills. When Clemens heard that Virchow + had recommended this new restorative, the name of which was plasmon, he + promptly provided MacAlister with five thousand pounds to invest in a + company then organizing in London. It should be added that this particular + investment was not an entire loss, for it paid very good dividends for + several years. We shall hear of it again. + </p> + <p> + For the most part Clemens was content to let Henry Rogers do his + financiering, and as the market was low with an upward incline, Rogers put + the various accumulations into this thing and that, and presently had some + fifty thousand dollars to Mark Twain's credit, a very comfortable balance + for a man who had been twice that amount in debt only a few years before. + It has been asserted most strenuously, by those in a position to know + least about the matter, that Henry Rogers lent, and even gave, Mark Twain + large sums, and pointed out opportunities whereby he could make heavily by + speculation. No one of these statements is true. Mr. Rogers neither lent + nor gave Mark Twain money for investment, and he never allowed him to + speculate when he could prevent it. He invested for him wisely, but he + never bought for him a share of stock that he did not have the money in + hand to pay for in full-money belonging to and earned by Clemens himself. + What he did give to Mark Twain was his priceless counsel and time—gifts + more precious than any mere sum of money—boons that Mark Twain could + accept without humiliation. He did accept them and was unceasingly + grateful.—[Mark Twain never lost an opportunity for showing his + gratitude to Henry Rogers. The reader is referred to Appendix T, at the + end of the last volume, for a brief tribute which Clemens prepared in + 1902. Mr. Rogers would not consent to its publication.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0209" id="link2H_4_0209"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCI. SOCIAL LIFE IN VIENNA + </h2> + <p> + Clemens, no longer worried about finances and full of ideas and prospects, + was writing now at a great rate, mingling with all sorts of social events, + lecturing for charities, and always in the lime-light. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have abundant peace of mind again—no sense of burden. Work is + become a pleasure—it is not labor any longer. + </pre> + <p> + He was the lion of the Austrian capital, and it was natural that he should + revel in his new freedom and in the universal tribute. Mrs. Clemens wrote + that they were besieged with callers of every description: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Such funny combinations are here sometimes: one duke, several + counts, several writers, several barons, two princes, newspaper + women, etc. I find so far, without exception, that the high-up + aristocracy are simple and cordial and agreeable. +</pre> + <p> + When Clemens appeared as a public entertainer all society turned out to + hear him and introductions were sought by persons of the most exclusive + rank. Once a royal introduction led to an adventure. He had been giving a + charity reading in Vienna, and at the end of it was introduced, with Mrs. + Clemens, to her Highness, Countess Bardi, a princess of the Portuguese + royal house by marriage and sister to the Austrian Archduchess Maria + Theresa. They realized that something was required after such an + introduction; that, in fact, they must go within a day or two and pay + their respects by writing their names in the visitors' book, kept in a + sort of anteroom of the royal establishment. A few days later, about noon, + they drove to the archducal palace, inquired their way to the royal + anteroom, and informed the grandly uniformed portier that they wished to + write their names in the visitors' book. The portier did not produce the + book, but summoned a man in livery and gold lace and directed him to take + them up-stairs, remarking that her Royal Highness was out, but would be in + presently. They protested that her Royal Highness was not looking for + them, that they were not calling, but had merely come to sign the + visitors' book, but he said: + </p> + <p> + “You are Americans, are you not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we are Americans.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you are expected. Please go up-stairs.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Clemens said: + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, we are not expected; there is some mistake. Please let us + sign the book and we will go away.” + </p> + <p> + But it was no use. He insisted that her Royal Highness would be back in a + very little while; that she had commanded him to say so and that they must + wait. They were shown up-stairs, Clemens going willingly enough, for he + scented an adventure; but Mrs. Clemens was far from happy. They were taken + to a splendid drawing-room, and at the doorway she made her last stand, + refusing to enter. She declared that there was certainly some mistake, and + begged them to let her sign her name in the book and go, without + parleying. It was no use. Their conductor insisted that they remove their + wraps and sit down, which they finally did—Mrs. Clemens miserable, + her husband in a delightful state of anticipation. Writing of it to + Twichell that night he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I was hoping and praying that the Princess would come and catch us + up there, & that those other Americans who were expected would + arrive and be taken as impostors by the portier & be shot by the + sentinels & then it would all go into the papers & be cabled all + over the world & make an immense stir and be perfectly lovely. + + Livy was in a state of mind; she said it was too theatrically + ridiculous & that I would never be able to keep my mouth shut; that + I would be sure to let it out & it would get into the papers, & she + tried to make me promise. + + “Promise what?” I said. + + “To be quiet about this.” + + “Indeed I won't; it's the best thing ever happened. I'll tell it + and add to it & I wish Joe & Howells were here to make it perfect; I + can't make all the rightful blunders by myself—it takes all three + of us to do justice to an opportunity like this. I would just like + to see Howells get down to his work & explain & lie & work his + futile & inventionless subterfuges when that Princess comes raging + in here & wanting to know.” + + But Livy could not bear fun—it was not a time to be trying to be + funny. We were in a most miserable & shameful situation, & it + —Just then the door spread wide & our Princess & 4 more & 3 little + Princes flowed in! Our Princess & her sister, the Archduchess Maria + Theresa (mother to the imperial heir & to the a young girl + Archduchesses present, & aunt to the 3 little Princes), & we shook + hands all around & sat down & had a most sociable time for half an + hour, & by & by it turned out that we were the right ones & had been + sent for by a messenger who started too late to catch us at the + hotel. We were invited for a o'clock, but we beat that arrangement + by an hour & a half. + + Wasn't it a rattling good comedy situation? Seems a kind of pity we + were the right ones. It would have been such nuts to see the right + ones come and get fired out, & we chatting along comfortably & + nobody suspecting us for impostors. +</pre> + <p> + Mrs. Clemens to Mrs. Crane: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Of course I know that I should have courtesied to her Imperial + Majesty & not quite so deep to her Royal Highness, and that Mr. + Clemens should have kissed their hands; but it was all so unexpected + that I had no time to prepare, and if I had had I should not have + been there; I only went in to help Mr. C. with my bad German. When + our minister's wife is going to be presented to the Archduchess she + practises her courtesying beforehand. +</pre> + <p> + They had met royalty in simple American fashion and no disaster had + followed. + </p> + <p> + We have already made mention of the distinguished visitors who gathered in + the Clemens apartments at the Hotel Metropole. They were of many nations + and ranks. It was the winter in London of twenty-five years before over + again. Only Mark Twain was not the same. Then he had been unsophisticated, + new, not always at his ease; now he was the polished familiar of courts + and embassies—at home equally with poets and princes, authors and + ambassadors and kings. Such famous ones were there as Vereshchagin, + Leschetizky, Mark Hambourg, Dvorak, Lenbach, and Jokai, with diplomats of + many nations. A list of foreign names may mean little to the American + reader, but among them were Neigra, of Italy; Paraty, of Portugal; + Lowenhaupt, of Sweden; and Ghiki, of Rumania. The Queen of Rumania, Carmen + Sylva, a poetess in her own right, was a friend and warm admirer of Mark + Twain. The Princess Metternich, and Madame de Laschowska, of Poland, were + among those who came, and there were Nansen and his wife, and + Campbell-Bannerman, who was afterward British Premier. Also there was + Spiridon, the painter, who made portraits of Clara Clemens and her father, + and other artists and potentates—the list is too long. + </p> + <p> + Those were brilliant, notable gatherings and are remembered in Vienna + today. They were not always entirely harmonious, for politics was in the + air and differences of opinion were likely to be pretty freely expressed. + </p> + <p> + Clemens and his family, as Americans, did not always have a happy time of + it. It was the eve of the Spanish American War and most of continental + Europe sided with Spain. Austria, in particular, was friendly to its + related nation; and from every side the Clemenses heard how America was + about to take a brutal and unfair advantage of a weaker nation for the + sole purpose of annexing Cuba. + </p> + <p> + Charles Langdon and his son Jervis happened to arrive in Vienna about this + time, bringing straight from America the comforting assurance that the war + was not one of conquest or annexation, but a righteous defense of the + weak. Mrs. Clemens gave a dinner for them, at which, besides some American + students, were Mark Hambourg, Gabrilowitsch, and the great Leschetizky + himself. Leschetizky, an impetuous and eloquent talker, took this occasion + to inform the American visitors that their country was only shamming, that + Cuba would soon be an American dependency. No one not born to the language + could argue with Leschetizky. Clemens once wrote of him: + </p> + <p> + He is a most capable and felicitous talker-was born for an orator, I + think. What life, energy, fire in a man past 70! & how he does play! + He is easily the greatest pianist in the world. He is just as great & + just as capable today as ever he was. + </p> + <p> + Last Sunday night, at dinner with us, he did all the talking for 3 hours, + and everybody was glad to let him. He told his experiences as a + revolutionist 50 years ago in '48, & his battle-pictures were + magnificently worded. Poetzl had never met him before. He is a talker + himself & a good one—but he merely sat silent & gazed across + the table at this inspired man, & drank in his words, & let his + eyes fill & the blood come & go in his face & never said a + word. + </p> + <p> + Whatever may have been his doubts in the beginning concerning the Cuban + War, Mark Twain, by the end of May, had made up his mind as to its + justice. When Theodore Stanton invited him to the Decoration Day banquet + to be held in Paris, he replied: + </p> + <p> + I thank you very much for your invitation and I would accept if I were + foot-free. For I should value the privilege of helping you do honor to the + men who rewelded our broken Union and consecrated their great work with + their lives; and also I should like to be there to do homage to our + soldiers and sailors of today who are enlisted for another most righteous + war, and utter the hope that they may make short and decisive work of it + and leave Cuba free and fed when they face for home again. And finally I + should like to be present and see you interweave those two flags which, + more than any others, stand for freedom and progress in the earth-flags + which represent two kindred nations, each great and strong by itself, + competent sureties for the peace of the world when they stand together. + </p> + <p> + That is to say, the flags of England and America. To an Austrian friend he + emphasized this thought: + </p> + <p> + The war has brought England and America close together—and to my + mind that is the biggest dividend that any war in this world has ever + paid. If this feeling is ever to grow cold again I do not wish to live to + see it. + </p> + <p> + And to Twichell, whose son David had enlisted: + </p> + <p> + You are living your war-days over again in Dave & it must be strong + pleasure mixed with a sauce of apprehension.... + </p> + <p> + I have never enjoyed a war, even in history, as I am enjoying this one, + for this is the worthiest one that was ever fought, so far as my knowledge + goes. It is a worthy thing to fight for one's own country. It is another + sight finer to fight for another man's. And I think this is the first time + it has been done. + </p> + <p> + But it was a sad day for him when he found that the United States really + meant to annex the Philippines, and his indignation flamed up. He said: + </p> + <p> + “When the United States sent word to Spain that the Cuban atrocities + must end she occupied the highest moral position ever taken by a nation + since the Almighty made the earth. But when she snatched the Philippines + she stained the flag.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0210" id="link2H_4_0210"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCII. LITERARY WORK IN VIENNA + </h2> + <p> + One must wonder, with all the social demands upon him, how Clemens could + find time to write as much as he did during those Vienna days. He piled up + a great heap of manuscript of every sort. He wrote Twichell: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There may be idle people in the world, but I am not one of them. +</pre> + <p> + And to Howells: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I couldn't get along without work now. I bury myself in it up to + the ears. Long hours—8 & 9 on a stretch sometimes. It isn't all + for print, by any means, for much of it fails to suit me; 50,000 + words of it in the past year. It was because of the deadness which + invaded me when Susy died. +</pre> + <p> + He projected articles, stories, critiques, essays, novels, autobiography, + even plays; he covered the whole literary round. Among these activities + are some that represent Mark Twain's choicest work. “Concerning the + Jews,” which followed the publication of his “Stirring Times + in Austria” (grew out of it, in fact), still remains the best + presentation of the Jewish character and racial situation. Mark Twain was + always an ardent admirer of the Jewish race, and its oppression naturally + invited his sympathy. Once he wrote to Twichell: + </p> + <p> + The difference between the brain of the average Christian and that of the + average Jew—certainly in Europe—is about the difference + between a tadpole's brain & an archbishop's. It is a marvelous race; + by long odds the most marvelous race the world has produced, I suppose. + </p> + <p> + Yet he did not fail to see its faults and to set them down in his summary + of Hebrew character. It was a reply to a letter written to him by a + lawyer, and he replied as a lawyer might, compactly, logically, + categorically, conclusively. The result pleased him. To Mr. Rogers he + wrote: + </p> + <p> + The Jew article is my “gem of the ocean.” I have taken a world + of pleasure in writing it & doctoring it & fussing at it. Neither + Jew nor Christian will approve of it, but people who are neither Jews nor + Christian will, for they are in a condition to know the truth when they + see it. + </p> + <p> + Clemens was not given to race distinctions. In his article he says: + </p> + <p> + I am quite sure that (bar one) I have no race prejudices, and I think I + have no color prejudices nor caste prejudices nor creed prejudices. Indeed + I know it. I can stand any society. All that I care to know is that a man + is a human being, that is enough for me; he can't be any worse. + </p> + <p> + We gather from something that follows that the one race which he bars is + the French, and this, just then, mainly because of the Dreyfus agitations. + </p> + <p> + He also states in this article: + </p> + <p> + I have no special regard for Satan, but I can at least claim that I have + no prejudice against him. It may even be that I lean a little his way on + account of his not having a fair show. + </p> + <p> + Clemens indeed always had a friendly feeling toward Satan (at least, as he + conceived him), and just at this time addressed a number of letters to him + concerning affairs in general—cordial, sympathetic, informing + letters enough, though apparently not suited for publication. A good deal + of the work done at this period did not find its way into print. An + interview with Satan; a dream-story concerning a platonic sweetheart, and + some further comment on Austrian politics, are among the condemned + manuscripts. + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain's interest in Satan would seem later to have extended to his + relatives, for there are at least three bulky manuscripts in which he has + attempted to set down some episodes in the life of one “Young Satan,” + a nephew, who appears to have visited among the planets and promoted some + astonishing adventures in Austria several centuries ago. The idea of a + mysterious, young, and beautiful stranger who would visit the earth and + perform mighty wonders, was always one which Mark Twain loved to play + with, and a nephew of Satan's seemed to him properly qualified to carry + out his intention. His idea was that this celestial visitant was not + wicked, but only indifferent to good and evil and suffering, having no + personal knowledge of any of these things. Clemens tried the experiment in + various ways, and portions of the manuscript are absorbingly interesting, + lofty in conception, and rarely worked out—other portions being + merely grotesque, in which the illusion of reality vanishes. + </p> + <p> + Among the published work of the Vienna period is an article about a + morality play, the “Master of Palmyra,”—[About + play-acting, Forum, October, 1898.]—by Adolf Wilbrandt, an + impressive play presenting Death, the all-powerful, as the principal part. + </p> + <p> + The Cosmopolitan Magazine for August published “At the + Appetite-Cure,” in which Mark Twain, in the guise of humor, set + forth a very sound and sensible idea concerning dietetics, and in October + the same magazine published his first article on “Christian Science + and the Book of Mrs. Eddy.” As we have seen, Clemens had been always + deeply interested in mental healing, and in closing this humorous skit he + made due acknowledgments to the unseen forces which, properly employed, + through the imagination work physical benefits: + </p> + <p> + “Within the last quarter of a century,” he says, “in + America, several sects of curers have appeared under various names and + have done notable things in the way of healing ailments without the use of + medicines.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens was willing to admit that Mrs. Eddy and her book had benefited + humanity, but he could not resist the fun-making which certain of her + formulas and her phrasing invited. The delightful humor of the + Cosmopolitan article awoke a general laugh, in which even devout Christian + Scientists were inclined to join.—[It was so popular that John + Brisben Walker voluntarily added a check for two hundred dollars to the + eight hundred dollars already paid.]—Nothing that he ever did + exhibits more happily that peculiar literary gift upon which his fame + rests. + </p> + <p> + But there is another story of this period that will live when most of + those others mentioned are but little remembered. It is the story of + “The Man that Corrupted Hadleyburg.” This is a tale that in + its own way takes its place with the half-dozen great English short + stories of the world-with such stories as “The Fall of the House of + Usher,” by Poe; “The Luck of Roaring Camp,” by Harte; + “The Man Who Would be King,” by Kipling; and “The Man + Without a Country,” by Hale. As a study of the human soul, its + flimsy pretensions and its pitiful frailties, it outranks all the rest. In + it Mark Twain's pessimistic philosophy concerning the “human animal” + found a free and moral vent. Whatever his contempt for a thing, he was + always amused at it; and in this tale we can imagine him a gigantic + Pantagruel dangling a ridiculous manikin, throwing himself back and + roaring out his great bursting guffaws at its pitiful antics. The + temptation and the downfall of a whole town was a colossal idea, a + sardonic idea, and it is colossally and sardonically worked out. + </p> + <p> + Human weakness and rotten moral force were never stripped so bare or so + mercilessly jeered at in the marketplace. For once Mark Twain could hug + himself with glee in derision of self-righteousness, knowing that the + world would laugh with him, and that none would be so bold as to gainsay + his mockery. Probably no one but Mark Twain ever conceived the idea of + demoralizing a whole community—of making its “nineteen leading + citizens” ridiculous by leading them into a cheap, glittering + temptation, and having them yield and openly perjure themselves at the + very moment when their boasted incorruptibility was to amaze the world. + And it is all wonderfully done. The mechanism of the story is perfect, the + drama of it is complete. The exposure of the nineteen citizens in the very + sanctity of the church itself, and by the man they have discredited, + completing the carefully prepared revenge of the injured stranger, is + supreme in its artistic triumph. “The Man that Corrupted Hadleyburg” + is one of the mightiest sermons against self-righteousness ever preached. + Its philosophy, that every man is strong until his price is named; the + futility of the prayer not to be led into temptation, when it is only by + resisting temptation that men grow strong—these things blaze out in + a way that makes us fairly blink with the truth of them. + </p> + <p> + It is Mark Twain's greatest short story. It is fine that it should be + that, as well as much more than that; for he was no longer essentially a + story-teller. He had become more than ever a moralist and a sage. Having + seen all of the world, and richly enjoyed and deeply suffered at its + hands, he sat now as in a seat of judgment, regarding the passing show and + recording his philosophies. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0211" id="link2H_4_0211"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCIII. AN IMPERIAL TRAGEDY + </h2> + <p> + For the summer they went to Kaltenleutgeben, just out of Vienna, where + they had the Villa Paulhof, and it was while they were there, September + 10, 1898, that the Empress Elizabeth of Austria was assassinated at Geneva + by an Italian vagabond, whose motive seemed to have been to gain + notoriety. The news was brought to them one evening, just at supper-time, + by Countess Wydenbouck-Esterhazy. + </p> + <p> + Clemens wrote to Twichell: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + That good & unoffending lady, the Empress, is killed by a madman, & + I am living in the midst of world-history again. The Queen's + Jubilee last year, the invasion of the Reichsrath by the police, & + now this murder, which will still be talked of & described & painted + a thousand years from now. To have a personal friend of the wearer + of two crowns burst in at the gate in the deep dusk of the evening & + say, in a voice broken with tears, “My God! the Empress is + murdered,” & fly toward her home before we can utter a question + —why, it brings the giant event home to you, makes you a part of it + & personally interested; it is as if your neighbor Antony should come + flying & say, “Caesar is butchered—the head of the world is + fallen!” + </pre> + <p> + Of course there is no talk but of this. The mourning is universal and + genuine, the consternation is stupefying. The Austrian Empire is being + draped with black. Vienna will be a spectacle to see by next Saturday, + when the funeral cortege marches. + </p> + <p> + Clemens and the others went into Vienna for the funeral ceremonies and + witnessed them from the windows of the new Krantz Hotel, which faces the + Capuchin church where the royal dead lie buried. It was a grandly + impressive occasion, a pageant of uniforms of the allied nations that made + up the Empire of Austria. Clemens wrote of it at considerable length, and + sent the article to Mr. Rogers to offer to the magazines. Later, however, + he recalled it just why is not clear. In one place he wrote: + </p> + <p> + Twice the Empress entered Vienna in state; the first time was in 1854, + when she was a bride of seventeen, & when she rode in measureless pomp + through a world of gay flags & decorations down the streets, walled on + both hands with the press of shouting & welcoming subjects; & the + second time was last Wednesday, when she entered the city in her coffin, + & moved down the same streets in the dead of night under waving black + flags, between human walls again, but everywhere was a deep stillness now + & a stillness emphasized rather than broken by the muffled hoofbeats + of the long cavalcade over pavements cushioned with sand, & the low + sobbing of gray-headed women who had witnessed the first entrance, + forty-four years before, when she & they were young & unaware.... + She was so blameless—the Empress; & so beautiful in mind & + heart, in person & spirit; & whether with the crown upon her head, + or without it & nameless, a grace to the human race, almost a + justification of its creation; would be, indeed, but that the animal that + struck her down re-establishes the doubt. + </p> + <p> + They passed a quiet summer at Kaltenleutgeben. Clemens wrote some + articles, did some translating of German plays, and worked on his “Gospel,” + an elaboration of his old essay on contenting one's soul through + selfishness, later to be published as 'What is Man?' A. C. Dunham and Rev. + Dr. Parker, of Hartford, came to Vienna, and Clemens found them and + brought them out to Kaltenleutgeben and read them chapters of his + doctrines, which, he said, Mrs. Clemens would not let him print. Dr. + Parker and Dunham returned to Hartford and reported Mark Twain more than + ever a philosopher; also that he was the “center of notability and + his house a court.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0212" id="link2H_4_0212"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCIV. THE SECOND WINTER IN VIENNA + </h2> + <p> + The Clemens family did not return to the Metropole for the winter, but + went to the new Krantz, already mentioned, where they had a handsome and + commodious suite looking down on the Neuer Markt and on the beautiful + facade of the Capuchin church, with the great cathedral only a step away. + There they passed another brilliant and busy winter. Never in Europe had + they been more comfortably situated; attention had been never more + lavishly paid to them. Their drawing-room was a salon which acquired the + name of the “Second Embassy.” Clemens in his note-book wrote: + </p> + <p> + During 8 years now I have filled the position—with some credit, I + trust, of self-appointed ambassador-at-large of the United States of + America—without salary. + </p> + <p> + Which was a joke; but there was a large grain of truth in it, for Mark + Twain, more than any other American in Europe, was regarded as typically + representing his nation and received more lavish honors. + </p> + <p> + It had become the fashion to consult him on every question of public + interest, for he was certain to say something worth printing, whether + seriously or otherwise. When the Tsar of Russia proposed the disarmament + of the nations William T. Stead, editor of the Review of Reviews, wrote + for Mark Twain's opinion. He replied: + </p> + <p> + DEAR MR. STEADY,—The Tsar is ready to disarm. I am ready to disarm. + Collect the others; it should not be much of a task now. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MARK TWAIN. +</pre> + <p> + He was on a tide of prosperity once more, one that was to continue now + until the end. He no longer had any serious financial qualms. He could + afford to be independent. He refused ten thousand dollars for a tobacco + indorsement, though he liked the tobacco well enough; and he was aware + that even royalty was willing to put a value on its opinions. He declined + ten thousand dollars a year for five years to lend his name as editor of a + humorous periodical, though there was no reason to suppose that the paper + would be otherwise than creditably conducted. He declined lecture + propositions from Pond at the rate of about one a month. He could get + along without these things, he said, and still preserve some remnants of + self-respect. In a letter to Rogers he said: + </p> + <p> + Pond offers me $10,000 for 10 nights, but I do not feel strongly tempted. + Mrs. Clemens ditto. + </p> + <p> + Early in 1899 he wrote to Howells that Mrs. Clemens had proved to him that + they owned a house and furniture in Hartford, that his English and + American copyrights paid an income on the equivalent of two hundred + thousand dollars, and that they had one hundred and seven thousand + dollars' accumulation in the bank. + </p> + <p> + “I have been out and bought a box of 6c. cigars,” he says; + “I was smoking 4 1/2c. before.” + </p> + <p> + The things that men are most likely to desire had come to Mark Twain, and + no man was better qualified to rejoice in them. That supreme, elusive + thing which we call happiness might have been his now but for the tragedy + of human bereavement and the torture of human ills. That he did rejoice—reveled + indeed like a boy in his new fortunes, the honors paid him, and in all + that gay Viennese life-there is no doubt. He could wave aside care and + grief and remorse, forget their very existence, it seemed; but in the end + he had only driven them ahead a little way and they waited by his path. + Once, after reciting his occupations and successes, he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + All these things might move and interest one. But how, desperately + more I have been moved to-night by the thought of a little old copy + in the nursery of 'At the Back of the North Wind'. Oh, what happy + days they were when that book was read, and how Susy loved it!... + Death is so kind, benignant, to whom he loves, but he goes by us + others & will not look our way. +</pre> + <p> + And to Twichell a few days later: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A Hartford with no Susy in it—& no Ned Bunce!—It is not the city + of Hartford, it is the city of Heartbreak.... It seems only a few + weeks since I saw Susy last—yet that was 1895 & this is 1899.... + + My work does not go well to-day. It failed yesterday—& the day + before & the day before that. And so I have concluded to put the + MS. in the waste-basket & meddle with some other subject. I was + trying to write an article advocating the quadrupling of the + salaries of our ministers & ambassadors, & the devising of an + official dress for them to wear. It seems an easy theme, yet I + couldn't do the thing to my satisfaction. All I got out of it was + an article on Monaco & Monte Carlo—matters not connected with the + subject at all. Still, that was something—it's better than a total + loss. +</pre> + <p> + He finished the article—“Diplomatic Pay and Clothes”—in + which he shows how absurd it is for America to expect proper + representation on the trifling salaries paid to her foreign ministers, as + compared with those allowed by other nations. + </p> + <p> + He prepared also a reminiscent article—the old tale of the + shipwrecked Hornet and the magazine article intended as his literary debut + a generation ago. Now and again he worked on some one of the several + unfinished longer tales, but brought none of them to completion. The + German drama interested him. Once he wrote to Mr. Rogers that he had + translated “In Purgatory” and sent it to Charles Frohman, who + pronounced it “all jabber and no play.” + </p> + <p> + Curious, too, for it tears these Austrians to pieces with laughter. When I + read it, now, it seems entirely silly; but when I see it on the stage it + is exceedingly funny. + </p> + <p> + He undertook a play for the Burg Theater, a collaboration with a Vienna + journalist, Siegmund Schlesinger. Schlesinger had been successful with + several dramas, and agreed with Clemens to do some plays dealing with + American themes. One of them was to be called “Die Goldgraeberin,” + that is, “The Woman Gold-Miner.” Another, “The Rival + Candidates,” was to present the humors of female suffrage. + Schlesinger spoke very little English, and Clemens always had difficulty + in comprehending rapid-fire German. So the work did not progress very + well. By the time they had completed a few scenes of mining-drama the + interest died, and they good-naturedly agreed that it would be necessary + to wait until they understood each other's language more perfectly before + they could go on with the project. Frau Kati Schratt, later morganatic + wife of Emperor Franz Josef, but then leading comedienne of the Burg + Theater, is said to have been cast for the leading part in the + mining-play; and Director-General Herr Schlenther, head of the Burg + Theater management, was deeply disappointed. He had never doubted that a + play built by Schlesinger and Mark Twain, with Frau Schratt in the leading + role, would have been a great success. + </p> + <p> + Clemens continued the subject of Christian Science that winter. He wrote a + number of articles, mainly criticizing Mrs. Eddy and her financial + methods, and for the first time conceived the notion of a book on the + subject. The new hierarchy not only amused but impressed him. He realized + that it was no ephemeral propaganda, that its appeal to human need was + strong, and that its system of organization was masterful and complete. To + Twichell he wrote: + </p> + <p> + Somehow I continue to feel sure of that cult's colossal future.... I am + selling my Lourdes stock already & buying Christian Science trust. I + regard it as the Standard Oil of the future. + </p> + <p> + He laid the article away for the time and, as was his custom, put the play + quite out of his mind and invented a postal-check which would be far more + simple than post-office orders, because one could buy them in any quantity + and denomination and keep them on hand for immediate use, making them + individually payable merely by writing in the name of the payee. It seems + a fine, simple scheme, one that might have been adopted by the government + long ago; but the idea has been advanced in one form or another several + times since then, and still remains at this writing unadopted. He wrote + John Hay about it, remarking at the close that the government officials + would probably not care to buy it as soon as they found they couldn't kill + Christians with it. + </p> + <p> + He prepared a lengthy article on the subject, in dialogue form, making it + all very clear and convincing, but for some reason none of the magazines + would take it. Perhaps it seemed too easy, too simple, too obvious. Great + ideas, once developed, are often like that. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0213" id="link2H_4_0213"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCV. SPEECHES THAT WERE NOT MADE + </h2> + <p> + In a volume of Mark Twain's collected speeches there is one entitled + “German for the Hungarians—Address at the jubilee Celebration + of the Emancipation of the Hungarian Press, March 26, 1899.” An + introductory paragraph states that the ministers and members of Parliament + were present, and that the subject was the “Ausgleich”—i.e., + the arrangement for the apportionment of the taxes between Hungary and + Austria. The speech as there set down begins: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Now that we are all here together I think that it will be a good + idea to arrange the Ausgleich. If you will act for Hungary I shall + be quite willing to act for Austria, and this is the very time for + it. +</pre> + <p> + It is an excellent speech, full of good-feeling and good-humor, but it was + never delivered. It is only a speech that Mark Twain intended to deliver, + and permitted to be copied by a representative of the press before he + started for Budapest. + </p> + <p> + It was a grand dinner, brilliant and inspiring, and when Mark Twain was + presented to that distinguished company he took a text from something the + introducer had said and became so interested in it that his prepared + speech wholly disappeared from his memory. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I think I will never embarrass myself with a set speech again [he wrote + Twichell]. My memory is old and rickety and cannot stand the strain. But I + had this luck. What I did was to furnish a text for a part of the splendid + speech which was made by the greatest living orator of the European world—a + speech which it was a great delight to listen to, although I did not + understand any word of it, it being in Hungarian. I was glad I came, it + was a great night, & I heard all the great men in the German tongue. + </pre> + <p> + The family accompanied Clemens to Budapest, and while there met Franz, son + of Louis Kossuth, and dined with him. + </p> + <p> + I assure you [wrote Mrs. Clemens] that I felt stirred, and I kept saying + to myself “This is Louis Kossuth's son.” He came to our room + one day, and we had quite a long and a very pleasant talk together. He is + a man one likes immensely. He has a quiet dignity about him that is very + winning. He seems to be a man highly esteemed in Hungary. If I am not + mistaken, the last time I saw the old picture of his father it was hanging + in a room that we turned into a music-room for Susy at the farm. + </p> + <p> + They were most handsomely treated in Budapest. A large delegation greeted + them on arrival, and a carriage and attendants were placed continually at + their disposal. They remained several days, and Clemens showed his + appreciation by giving a reading for charity. + </p> + <p> + It was hinted to Mark Twain that spring, that before leaving Vienna, it + would be proper for him to pay his respects to Emperor Franz Josef, who + had expressed a wish to meet him. Clemens promptly complied with the + formalities and the meeting was arranged. He had a warm admiration for the + Austrian Emperor, and naturally prepared himself a little for what he + wanted to say to him. He claimed afterward that he had compacted a sort of + speech into a single German sentence of eighteen words. He did not make + use of it, however. When he arrived at the royal palace and was presented, + the Emperor himself began in such an entirely informal way that it did no + occur to his visitor to deliver his prepared German sentence. When he + returned from the audience he said: + </p> + <p> + “We got along very well. I proposed to him a plan to exterminate the + human race by withdrawing the oxygen from the air for a period of two + minutes. I said Szczepanik would invent it for him. I think it impressed + him. After a while, in the course of our talk I remembered and told the + Emperor I had prepared and memorized a very good speech but had forgotten + it. He was very agreeable about it. He said a speech wasn't necessary. He + seemed to be a most kind-hearted emperor, with a great deal of plain, + good, attractive human nature about him. Necessarily he must have or he + couldn't have unbent to me as he did. I couldn't unbend if I were an + emperor. I should feel the stiffness of the position. Franz Josef doesn't + feel it. He is just a natural man, although an emperor. I was greatly + impressed by him, and I liked him exceedingly. His face is always the face + of a pleasant man and he has a fine sense of humor. It is the Emperor's + personality and the confidence all ranks have in him that preserve the + real political serenity in what has an outside appearance of being the + opposite. He is a man as well as an emperor—an emperor and a man.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens and Howells were corresponding with something of the old-time + frequency. The work that Mark Twain was doing—thoughtful work with + serious intent—appealed strongly to Howells. He wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + You are the greatest man of your sort that ever lived, and there is + no use saying anything else.... You have pervaded your + century almost more than any other man of letters, if not more; and + it is astonishing how you keep spreading.... You are my + “shadow of a great rock in a weary land” more than any other writer. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens, who was reading Howells's serial, “Their Silver-Wedding + journey,” then running in Harper's Magazine, responded: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + You are old enough to be a weary man with paling interests, but you + do not show it; you do your work in the same old, delicate & + delicious & forceful & searching & perfect way. I don't know how + you can—but I suspect. I suspect that to you there is still + dignity in human life, & that man is not a joke—a poor joke—the + poorest that was ever contrived. Since I wrote my Bible—[The + “Gospel,” What is Man?]—(last year), which Mrs. Clemens loathes & + shudders over & will not listen to the last half nor allow me to + print any part of it, man is not to me the respect-worthy person he + was before, & so I have lost my pride in him & can't write gaily nor + praisefully about him any more.... + + Next morning. I have been reading the morning paper. I do it every + morning—well knowing that I shall find in it the usual depravities + & basenesses & hypocrisies and cruelties that make up civilization & + cause me to put in the rest of the day pleading for the damnation of + the human race. I cannot seem to get my prayers answered, yet I do + not despair. +</pre> + <p> + He was not greatly changed. Perhaps he had fewer illusions and less + iridescent ones, and certainly he had more sorrow; but the letters to + Howells do not vary greatly from those written twenty-five years before. + There is even in them a touch of the old pretense as to Mrs. Clemens's + violence. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I mustn't stop to play now or I shall never get those helfiard letters + answered. (That is not my spelling. It is Mrs. Clemens's, I have told her + the right way a thousand times, but it does no good, she never remembers.) + </pre> + <p> + All through this Vienna period (as during several years before and after) + Henry Rogers was in full charge of Mark Twain's American affairs. Clemens + wrote him almost daily, and upon every matter, small or large, that + developed, or seemed likely to develop, in his undertakings. The + complications growing out of the type machine and Webster failures were + endless.—[“I hope to goodness I sha'n't get you into any more + jobs such as the type-setter and Webster business and the Bliss-Harper + campaigns have been. Oh, they were sickeners.” (Clemens to Rogers, + November 15, 1898.)]—The disposal of the manuscripts alone was work + for a literary agent. The consideration of proposed literary, dramatic, + and financial schemes must have required not only thought, but time. Yet + Mr. Rogers comfortably and genially took care of all these things and his + own tremendous affairs besides, and apologized sometimes when he felt, + perhaps, that he had wavered a little in his attention. Clemens once wrote + him: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Oh, dear me, you don't have to excuse yourself for neglecting me; + you are entitled to the highest praise for being so limitlessly + patient and good in bothering with my confused affairs, and pulling + me out of a hole every little while. + + It makes me lazy, the way that Steel stock is rising. If I were + lazier—like Rice—nothing could keep me from retiring. But I work + right along, like a poor person. I shall figure up the rise, as the + figures come in, and push up my literary prices accordingly, till I + get my literature up to where nobody can afford it but the family. + (N. B.—Look here, are you charging storage? I am not going to + stand that, you know.) Meantime, I note those encouraging illogical + words of yours about my not worrying because I am to be rich when I + am 68; why didn't you have Cheiro make it 90, so that I could have + plenty of room? + + It would be jolly good if some one should succeed in making a play + out of “Is He Dead?”—[Clemens himself had attempted to make a play + out of his story “Is He Dead?” and had forwarded the MS. to Rogers. + Later he wrote: “Put 'Is He Dead?' in the fire. God will bless you. + I too. I started to convince myself that I could write a play, or + couldn't. I'm convinced. Nothing can disturb that conviction.”] + —From what I gather from dramatists, he will have his hands + something more than full—but let him struggle, let him struggle. + + Is there some way, honest or otherwise, by which you can get a copy + of Mayo's play, “Pudd'nhead Wilson,” for me? There is a capable + young Austrian here who saw it in New York and wants to translate it + and see if he can stage it here. I don't think these people here + would understand it or take to it, but he thinks it will pay us to + try. + + A couple of London dramatists want to bargain with me for the right + to make a high comedy out of the “Million-Pound Note.” Barkis is + willing. +</pre> + <p> + This is but one of the briefer letters. Most of them were much longer and + of more elaborate requirements. Also they overflowed with the gaiety of + good-fortune and with gratitude. From Vienna in 1899 Clemens wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Why, it is just splendid! I have nothing to do but sit around and + watch you set the hen and hatch out those big broods and make my + living for me. Don't you wish you had somebody to do the same for + you?—a magician who can turn steel and copper and Brooklyn gas into + gold. I mean to raise your wages again—I begin to feel that I can + afford it. + + I think the hen ought to have a name; she must be called Unberufen. + That is a German word which is equivalent to it “sh! hush' don't let + the spirits hear you!” The superstition is that if you happen to + let fall any grateful jubilation over good luck that you've had or + are hoping to have you must shut square off and say “Unberufen!” and + knock wood. The word drives the evil spirits away; otherwise they + would divine your joy or your hopes and go to work and spoil your + game. Set her again—do! + + Oh, look here! You are just like everybody; merely because I am + literary you think I'm a commercial somnambulist, and am not + watching you with all that money in your hands. Bless you, I've got + a description of you and a photograph in every police-office in + Christendom, with the remark appended: “Look out for a handsome, + tall, slender young man with a gray mustache and courtly manners and + an address well calculated to deceive, calling himself by the name + of Smith.” Don't you try to get away—it won't work. +</pre> + <p> + From the note-book: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Midnight. At Miss Bailie's home for English governesses. Two + comedies & some songs and ballads. Was asked to speak & did it. + (And rung in the “Mexican Plug.”) + + A Voice. “The Princess Hohenlohe wishes you to write on her fan.” + + “With pleasure—where is she?” + + “At your elbow.” + + I turned & took the fan & said, “Your Highness's place is in a fairy + tale; & by & by I mean to write that tale,” whereat she laughed a + happy girlish laugh, & we moved through the crowd to get to a + writing-table—& to get in a strong light so that I could see her + better. Beautiful little creature, with the dearest friendly ways & + sincerities & simplicities & sweetnesses—the ideal princess of the + fairy tales. She is 16 or 17, I judge. + + Mental Telegraphy. Mrs. Clemens was pouring out the coffee this + morning; I unfolded the Neue Freie Presse, began to read a paragraph + & said: + + “They've found a new way to tell genuine gems from false——” + + “By the Roentgen ray!” she exclaimed. + + That is what I was going to say. She had not seen the paper, & + there had been no talk about the ray or gems by herself or by me. + It was a plain case of telegraphy. + + No man that ever lived has ever done a thing to please God + —primarily. It was done to please himself, then God next. + + The Being who to me is the real God is the one who created this + majestic universe & rules it. He is the only originator, the only + originator of thoughts; thoughts suggested from within, not from + without; the originator of colors & of all their possible + combinations; of forces & the laws that govern them; of forms & + shapes of all forms-man has never invented a new one. He is the + only originator. He made the materials of all things; He made the + laws by which, & by which only, man may combine them into the + machines & other things which outside influences suggest to him. He + made character—man can portray it but not “create” it, for He is + the only creator. + + He, is the perfect artisan, the perfect artist. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0214" id="link2H_4_0214"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCVI. A SUMMER IN SWEDEN + </h2> + <p> + A part of the tragedy of their trip around the world had been the + development in Jean Clemens of a malady which time had identified as + epilepsy. The loss of one daughter and the invalidism of another was the + burden which this household had now to bear. Of course they did not for a + moment despair of a cure for the beautiful girl who had been so cruelly + stricken, and they employed any agent that promised relief. + </p> + <p> + They decided now to go to London, in the hope of obtaining beneficial + treatment. They left Vienna at the end of May, followed to the station by + a great crowd, who loaded their compartment with flowers and lingered on + the platform waving and cheering, some of them in tears, while the train + pulled away. Leschetizky himself was among them, and Wilbrandt, the author + of the Master of Palmyra, and many artists and other notables, “most + of whom,” writes Mrs. Clemens, “we shall probably never see + again in this world.” + </p> + <p> + Their Vienna sojourn had been one of the most brilliant periods of their + life, as well as one of the saddest. The memory of Susy had been never + absent, and the failing health of Jean was a gathering cloud. + </p> + <p> + They stopped a day or two at Prague, where they were invited by the Prince + of Thurn and Taxis to visit his castle. It gave them a glimpse of the + country life of the Bohemian nobility which was most interesting. The + Prince's children were entirely familiar with Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry + Finn, which they had read both in English and in the translation. + </p> + <p> + They journeyed to London by way of Cologne, arriving by the end of May. + Poultney Bigelow was there, and had recently been treated with great + benefit by osteopathy (then known as the Swedish movements), as practised + by Heinrick Kellgren at Sanna, Sweden. Clemens was all interest concerning + Kellgren's method and eager to try it for his daughter's malady. He + believed she could be benefited, and they made preparation to spend some + months at least in Sanna. They remained several weeks in London, where + they were welcomed with hospitality extraordinary. They had hardly arrived + when they were invited by Lord Salisbury to Hatfield House, and by James + Bryce to Portland Place, and by Canon Wilberforce to Dean's Yard. A rather + amusing incident happened at one of the luncheon-parties. Canon + Wilberforce was there and left rather early. When Clemens was ready to go + there was just one hat remaining. It was not his, and he suspected, by the + initials on the inside, that it belonged to Canon Wilberforce. However, it + fitted him exactly and he wore it away. That evening he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + PRINCE OF WALES HOTEL, DE VERE GARDENS, + July,3, 1899. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR CANON WILBERFORCE,—It is 8 P.M. During the past four hours I + have not been able to take anything that did not belong to me; during all + that time I have not been able to stretch a fact beyond the frontiers of + truth try as I might, & meantime, not only my morals have moved the + astonishment of all who have come in contact with me, but my manners have + gained more compliments than they have been accustomed to. This mystery is + causing my family much alarm. It is difficult to account for it. I find I + haven't my own hat. Have you developed any novelties of conduct since you + left Mr. Murray's, & have they been of a character to move the concern + of your friends? I think it must be this that has put me under this happy + charm; but, oh dear! I tremble for the other man! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sincerely yours, + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> + <p> + Scarcely was this note on its way to Wilberforce when the following one + arrived, having crossed it in transit: + </p> + <p> + July 3, 1899. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +DEAR MR. CLEMENS,—I have been conscious of a vivacity and facility of +expression this afternoon beyond the normal and I have just discovered +the reason!! I have seen the historic signature “Mark Twain” in my hat!! +Doubtless you have been suffering from a corresponding dullness & have +wondered why. I departed precipitately, the hat stood on my umbrella and +was a new Lincoln & Bennett—it fitted me exactly and I did not discover +the mistake till I got in this afternoon. Please forgive me. If you +should be passing this way to-morrow will you look in and change hats? +or shall I send it to the hotel? + + I am, very sincerely yrs., +20 Dean's Yard. BASIL WILBERFORCE. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens was demanded by all the bohemian clubs, the White Friars, the + Vagabonds, the Savage, the Beefsteak, and the Authors. He spoke to them, + and those “Mark Twain Evenings” have become historic occasions + in each of the several institutions that gave him welcome. At the + Vagabonds he told them the watermelon story, and at the White Friars he + reviewed the old days when he had been elected to that society; “days,” + he said, “when all Londoners were talking about nothing else than + that they had discovered Livingstone, and that the lost Sir Roger + Tichborne had been found and they were trying him for it.” + </p> + <p> + At the Savage Club, too, he recalled old times and old friends, and + particularly that first London visit, his days in the club twenty-seven + years before. + </p> + <p> + “I was 6 feet 4 in those days,” he said. “Now I am 5 + feet 8 1/2 and daily diminishing in altitude, and the shrinkage of my + principles goes on .... Irving was here then, is here now. Stanley is + here, and Joe Hatton, but Charles Reade is gone and Tom Hood and Harry Lee + and Canon Kingsley. In those days you could have carried Kipling around in + a lunch-basket; now he fills the world. I was young and foolish then; now + I am old and foolisher.” + </p> + <p> + At the Authors Club he paid a special tribute to Rudyard Kipling, whose + dangerous illness in New York City and whose daughter's death had aroused + the anxiety and sympathy of the entire American nation. It had done much + to bring England and America closer together, Clemens said. Then he added + that he had been engaged the past eight days compiling a pun and had + brought it there to lay at their feet, not to ask for their indulgence, + but for their applause. It was this: + </p> + <p> + “Since England and America have been joined in Kipling, may they not + be severed in Twain.” + </p> + <p> + Hundreds of puns had been made on his pen-name, but this was probably his + first and only attempt, and it still remains the best. + </p> + <p> + They arrived in Sweden early in July and remained until October. Jean was + certainly benefited by the Kellgren treatment, and they had for a time the + greatest hopes of her complete recovery. Clemens became enthusiastic over + osteopathy, and wrote eloquently to every one, urging each to try the + great new curative which was certain to restore universal health. He wrote + long articles on Kellgren and his science, largely justified, no doubt, + for certainly miraculous benefits were recorded; though Clemens was not + likely to underestimate a thing which appealed to both his imagination and + his reason. Writing to Twichell he concluded, with his customary optimism + over any new benefit: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ten years hence no sane man will call a doctor except when the knife + must be used—& such cases will be rare. The educated physician + will himself be an osteopath. Dave will become one after he has + finished his medical training. Young Harmony ought to become one + now. I do not believe there is any difference between Kellgren's + science and osteopathy; but I am sending to America to find out. I + want osteopathy to prosper; it is common sense & scientific, & cures + a wider range of ailments than the doctor's methods can reach. +</pre> + <p> + Twichell was traveling in Europe that summer, and wrote from Switzerland: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I seemed ever and anon to see you and me swinging along those + glorious Alpine woods, staring at the new unfoldings of splendor + that every turn brought into view-talking, talking, endlessly + talking the days through-days forever memorable to me. That was + twenty-one years ago; think of it! We were youngsters then, Mark, + and how keen our relish of everything was! Well, I can enjoy myself + now; but not with that zest and rapture. Oh, a lot of items of our + tramp travel in 1878 that I had long forgotten came back to me as we + sped through that enchanted region, and if I wasn't on duty with + Venice I'd stop and set down some of them, but Venice must be + attended to. For one thing, there is Howells's book to be read at + such intervals as can be snatched from the quick-time march on which + our rustling leader keeps us. However, in Venice so far we want to + be gazing pretty steadily from morning till night, and by the grace + of the gondola we can do it without exhaustion. Really I am drunk + with Venice. +</pre> + <p> + But Clemens was full of Sweden. The skies there and the sunsets he thought + surpassed any he had ever known. On an evening in September he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR JOE,—I've no business in here-I ought to be outside. I shall + never see another sunset to begin with it this side of heaven. + Venice? land, what a poor interest that is! This is the place to + be. I have seen about 60 sunsets here; & a good 40 of them were + away & beyond anything I had ever imagined before for dainty & + exquisite & marvelous beauty & infinite change & variety. America? + Italy? the tropics? They have no notion of what a sunset ought to + be. And this one—this unspeakable wonder! It discounts all the + rest. It brings the tears, it is so unutterably beautiful. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens read a book during his stay in Sweden which interested him deeply. + It was the Open Question, by Elizabeth Robbins—a fine study of + life's sterner aspects. When he had finished he was moved to write the + author this encouraging word: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR MISS ROBBINS,—A relative of Matthew Arnold lent us your 'Open + Question' the other day, and Mrs. Clemens and I are in your debt. I + am not able to put in words my feeling about the book—my admiration + of its depth and truth and wisdom and courage, and the fine and + great literary art and grace of the setting. At your age you cannot + have lived the half of the things that are in the book, nor + personally penetrated to the deeps it deals in, nor covered its wide + horizons with your very own vision—and so, what is your secret? + how have you written this miracle? Perhaps one must concede that + genius has no youth, but starts with the ripeness of age and old + experience. + + Well, in any case, I am grateful to you. I have not been so + enriched by a book for many years, nor so enchanted by one. I seem + to be using strong language; still, I have weighed it. + + Sincerely yours, + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0215" id="link2H_4_0215"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCVII. 30, WELLINGTON COURT + </h2> + <p> + Clemens himself took the Kellgren treatment and received a good deal of + benefit. + </p> + <p> + “I have come back in sound condition and braced for work,” he + wrote MacAlister, upon his return to London. “A long, steady, + faithful siege of it, and I begin now in five minutes.” + </p> + <p> + They had settled in a small apartment at 30, Wellington Court, Albert + Gate, where they could be near the London branch of the Kellgren + institution, and he had a workroom with Chatto & Windus, his + publishers. His work, however, was mainly writing speeches, for he was + entertained constantly, and it seemed impossible for him to escape. His + note-book became a mere jumble of engagements. He did write an article or + a story now and then, one of which, “My First Lie, and How I Got Out + of It,” was made the important Christmas feature of the 'New York + Sunday World.'—[Now included in the Hadleyburg volume; “Complete + Works.”] + </p> + <p> + Another article of this time was the “St. Joan of Arc,” which + several years later appeared in Harper's Magazine. This article was + originally written as the Introduction of the English translation of the + official record of the trials and rehabilitation of Joan, then about to be + elaborately issued. Clemens was greatly pleased at being invited to + prepare the Introduction of this important volume, but a smug person with + pedagogic proclivities was in charge of the copy and proceeded to edit + Mark Twain's manuscript; to alter its phrasing to conform to his own ideas + of the Queen's English. Then he had it all nicely typewritten, and + returned it to show how much he had improved it, and to receive thanks and + compliments. He did not receive any thanks. Clemens recorded a few of the + remarks that he made when he saw his edited manuscript: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I will not deny that my feelings rose to 104 in the shade. “The + idea! That this long-eared animal this literary kangaroo this + illiterate hostler with his skull full of axle-grease—this.....” + But I stopped there, for this was not the Christian spirit. +</pre> + <p> + His would-be editor received a prompt order to return the manuscript, + after which Clemens wrote a letter, some of which will go very well here. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR MR. X.,—I have examined the first page of my amended + Introduction,—& will begin now & jot down some notes upon your + corrections. If I find any changes which shall not seem to me to be + improvements I will point out my reasons for thinking so. In this + way I may chance to be helpful to you, & thus profit you perhaps as + much as you have desired to profit me. + + First Paragraph. “Jeanne d'Arc.” This is rather cheaply pedantic, + & is not in very good taste. Joan is not known by that name among + plain people of our race & tongue. I notice that the name of the + Deity occurs several times in the brief instalment of the Trials + which you have favored me with. To be consistent, it will be + necessary that you strike out “God” & put in “Dieu.” Do not neglect + this. + + Second Paragraph. Now you have begun on my punctuation. Don't you + realize that you ought not to intrude your help in a delicate art + like that with your limitations? And do you think that you have + added just the right smear of polish to the closing clause of the + sentence? + + Third Paragraph. Ditto. + + Fourth Paragraph. Your word “directly” is misleading; it could be + construed to mean “at once.” Plain clarity is better than ornate + obscurity. I note your sensitive marginal remark: “Rather unkind to + French feelings—referring to Moscow.” Indeed I have not been + concerning myself about French feelings, but only about stating the + facts. I have said several uncourteous things about the French + —calling them a “nation of ingrates” in one place—but you have + been so busy editing commas & semicolons that you overlooked them & + failed to get scared at them. The next paragraph ends with a slur + at the French, but I have reasons for thinking you mistook it for a + compliment. It is discouraging to try to penetrate a mind like + yours. You ought to get it out & dance on it. + + That would take some of the rigidity out of it. And you ought to + use it sometimes; that would help. If you had done this every now & + then along through life it would not have petrified. + + Fifth Paragraph. Thus far I regard this as your masterpiece! You + are really perfect in the great art of reducing simple & dignified + speech to clumsy & vapid commonplace. + + Sixth Paragraph. You have a singularly fine & aristocratic + disrespect for homely & unpretending English. Every time I use “go + back” you get out your polisher & slick it up to “return.” “Return” + is suited only to the drawing-room—it is ducal, & says itself with + a simper & a smirk. + + Seventh Paragraph. “Permission” is ducal. Ducal and affected. + “Her” great days were not “over,” they were only half over. Didn't + you know that? Haven't you read anything at all about Joan of Arc? + The truth is you do not pay any attention; I told you on my very + first page that the public part of her career lasted two years, & + you have forgotten it already. You really must get your mind out + and have it repaired; you see yourself that it is all caked + together. + + Eighth Paragraph. She “rode away to assault & capture a + stronghold.” Very well; but you do not tell us whether she + succeeded or not. You should not worry the reader with + uncertainties like that. I will remind you once more that clarity + is a good thing in literature. An apprentice cannot do better than + keep this useful rule in mind. + + Ninth Paragraph. “Known” history. That word has a polish which is + too indelicate for me; there doesn't seem to be any sense in it. + This would have surprised me last week. + + ... “Breaking a lance” is a knightly & sumptuous phrase, & I + honor it for its hoary age & for the faithful service it has done in + the prize-composition of the school-girl, but I have ceased from + employing it since I got my puberty, & must solemnly object to + fathering it here. And, besides, it makes me hint that I have + broken one of those things before in honor of the Maid, an + intimation not justified by the facts. I did not break any lances + or other furniture; I only wrote a book about her. + + Truly yours, + MARK TWAIN. + + It cost me something to restrain myself and say these smooth & half- + flattering things of this immeasurable idiot, but I did it, & have + never regretted it. For it is higher & nobler to be kind to even a + shad like him than just.... I could have said hundreds of + unpleasant things about this tadpole, but I did not even feel them. +</pre> + <p> + Yet, in the end, he seems not to have sent the letter. Writing it had + served every purpose. + </p> + <p> + An important publishing event of 1899 was the issue by the American + Publishing Company of Mark Twain's “Complete Works in Uniform + Edition.” Clemens had looked forward to the day when this should be + done, perhaps feeling that an assembling of his literary family in + symmetrical dress constituted a sort of official recognition of his + authorship. Brander Matthews was selected to write the Introduction and + prepared a fine “Biographical Criticism,” which pleased + Clemens, though perhaps he did not entirely agree with its views. Himself + of a different cast of mind, he nevertheless admired Matthews. + </p> + <p> + Writing to Twichell he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When you say, “I like Brander Matthews, he impresses me as a man of + parts & power,” I back you, right up to the hub—I feel the same + way. And when you say he has earned your gratitude for cuffing me + for my crimes against the Leather-stockings & the Vicar I ain't + making any objection. Dern your gratitude! + + His article is as sound as a nut. Brander knows literature & loves + it; he can talk about it & keep his temper; he can state his case so + lucidly & so fairly & so forcibly that you have to agree with him + even when you don't agree with him; & he can discover & praise such + merits as a book has even when they are merely half a dozen diamonds + scattered through an acre of mud. And so he has a right to be a + critic. + + To detail just the opposite of the above invoice is to describe me. + I haven't any right to criticize books, & I don't do it except when + I hate them. I often want to criticize Jane Austen, but her books + madden me so that I can't conceal my frenzy from the reader; & + therefore I have to stop every time I begin.'—[Once at a dinner + given to Matthews, Mark Twain made a speech which consisted almost + entirely of intonations of the name “Brander Matthews” to express + various shades of human emotion. It would be hopeless, of course, + to attempt to convey in print any idea of this effort, which, by + those who heard it, is said to have been a masterpiece of + vocalization.] +</pre> + <p> + Clemens also introduced the “Uniform Edition” with an Author's + Preface, the jurisdiction of which, he said, was “restricted to + furnishing reasons for the publication of the collection as a whole.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + This is not easy to do. Aside from the ordinary commercial reasons + I find none that I can offer with dignity: I cannot say without + immodesty that the books have merit; I cannot say without immodesty + that the public want a “Uniform Edition”; I cannot say without + immodesty that a “Uniform Edition” will turn the nation toward high + ideals & elevated thought; I cannot say without immodesty that a + “Uniform Edition” will eradicate crime, though I think it will. I + find no reason that I can offer without immodesty except the rather + poor one that I should like to see a “Uniform Edition” myself. It + is nothing; a cat could say it about her kittens. Still, I believe + I will stand upon that. I have to have a Preface & a reason, by law + of custom, & the reason which I am putting forward is at least + without offense. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0216" id="link2H_4_0216"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCVIII. MARK TWAIN AND THE WARS + </h2> + <p> + English troubles in South Africa came to a head that autumn. On the day + when England's ultimatum to the Boers expired Clemens wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + LONDON, 3.07 P.m., Wednesday, October 11, 1899. The time is up! + Without a doubt the first shot in the war is being fired to-day in + South Africa at this moment. Some man had to be the first to fall; + he has fallen. Whose heart is broken by this murder? For, be he + Boer or be he Briton, it is murder, & England committed it by the + hand of Chamberlain & the Cabinet, the lackeys of Cecil Rhodes & his + Forty Thieves, the South Africa Company. +</pre> + <p> + Mark Twain would naturally sympathize with the Boer—the weaker side, + the man defending his home. He knew that for the sake of human progress + England must conquer and must be upheld, but his heart was all the other + way. In January, 1900, he wrote a characteristic letter to Twichell, which + conveys pretty conclusively his sentiments concerning the two wars then in + progress. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR JOE,—Apparently we are not proposing to set the Filipinos free + & give their islands to them; & apparently we are not proposing to + hang the priests & confiscate their property. If these things are + so the war out there has no interest for me. + + I have just been examining Chapter LXX of Following the Equator to + see if the Boer's old military effectiveness is holding out. It + reads curiously as if it had been written about the present war. + + I believe that in the next chapter my notion of the Boer was rightly + conceived. He is popularly called uncivilized; I do not know why. + Happiness, food, shelter, clothing, wholesome labor, modest & + rational ambitions, honesty, kindliness, hospitality, love of + freedom & limitless courage to fight for it, composure & fortitude + in time of disaster, patience in time of hardship & privation, + absence of noise & brag in time of victory, contentment with humble + & peaceful life void of insane excitements—if there is a higher & + better form of civilization than this I am not aware of it & do not + know where to look for it. I suppose that we have the habit of + imagining that a lot of artistic & intellectual & other + artificialities must be added or it isn't complete. We & the + English have these latter; but as we lack the great bulk of those + others I think the Boer civilization is the best of the two. My + idea of our civilization is that it is a shoddy, poor thing & full + of cruelties, vanities, arrogancies, meannesses, & hypocrisies. + + Provided we could get something better in the place of it. But that + is not possible perhaps. Poor as it is, it is better than real + savagery, therefore we must stand by it, extend it, & (in public) + praise it. And so we must not utter any hurtful word about England + in these days, nor fail to hope that she will win in this war, for + her defeat & fall would be an irremediable disaster for the mangy + human race. Naturally, then, I am for England; but she is + profoundly in the wrong, Joe, & no (instructed) Englishman doubts + it. At least that is my belief. +</pre> + <p> + Writing to Howells somewhat later, he calls the conflict in South Africa, + a “sordid and criminal war,” and says that every day he is + writing (in his head) bitter magazine articles against it. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + But I have to stop with that. Even if wrong—& she is wrong—England + must be upheld. He is an enemy of the human race who shall speak + against her now. Why was the human race created? Or at least why + wasn't something creditable created in place of it?... I talk + the war with both sides—always waiting until the other man + introduces the topic. Then I say, “My head is with the Briton, but + my heart & such rags of morals as I have are with the Boer—now we + will talk, unembarrassed and without prejudice.” And so we discuss + & have no trouble. + + I notice that God is on both sides in this war; thus history repeats + itself. But I am the only person who has noticed this; everybody + here thinks He is playing the game for this side, & for this side + only. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens wrote one article for anonymous publication in the Times. But when + the manuscript was ready to mail in an envelope stamped and addressed to + Moberly Bell—he reconsidered and withheld it. It still lies in the + envelope with the accompanying letter, which says: + </p> + <p> + Don't give me away, whether you print it or not. But I think you ought to + print it and get up a squabble, for the weather is just suitable. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0217" id="link2H_4_0217"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCIX. PLASMON, AND A NEW MAGAZINE + </h2> + <p> + Clemens was not wholly wedded to osteopathy. The financial interest which + he had taken in the new milk albumen, “a food for invalids,” + tended to divide his faith and make him uncertain as to which was to be + the chief panacea for all ills—osteopathy or plasmon. + </p> + <p> + MacAlister, who was deeply interested in the plasmon fortunes, was anxious + to get the product adopted by the army. He believed, if he could get an + interview with the Medical Director-General, he could convince him of its + merits. Discussing the matter with Clemens, the latter said: + </p> + <p> + “MacAlister, you are going at it from the wrong end. You can't go + direct to that man, a perfect stranger, and convince him of anything. Who + is his nearest friend?” + </p> + <p> + MacAlister knew a man on terms of social intimacy with the official. + </p> + <p> + Clemens said, “That is the man to speak to the Director-General.” + </p> + <p> + “But I don't know him, either,” said MacAlister. + </p> + <p> + “Very good. Do you know any one who does know him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know his most intimate friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he is the man for you to approach. Convince him that plasmon + is what the army needs, that the military hospitals are suffering for it. + Let him understand that what you want is to get this to the + Director-General, and in due time it will get to him in the proper way. + You'll see.” + </p> + <p> + This proved to be a true prophecy. It was only a little while until the + British army had experimented with plasmon and adopted it. MacAlister + reported the success of the scheme to Clemens, and out of it grew the + story entitled, “Two Little Tales,” published in November of + the following year (1901) in the Century Magazine. Perhaps the reader will + remember that in the “Two Little Tales” the Emperor is very + ill and the lowest of all his subjects knows a certain remedy, but he + cannot seek the Emperor direct, so he wisely approaches him through a + series of progressive stages—finally reaching and curing his + stricken Majesty. + </p> + <p> + Clemens had the courage of his investments. He adopted plasmon as his own + daily food, and induced various members of the family to take it in its + more palatable forms, one of these being a preparation of chocolate. He + kept the reading-table by his bed well stocked with a variety of the + products and invited various callers to try a complimentary sample lot. It + was really an excellent and harmless diet, and both the company and its + patients would seem to have prospered—perhaps are prospering still. + </p> + <p> + There was another business opportunity came along just at this time. S. S. + McClure was in England with a proposition for starting a new magazine + whose complexion was to be peculiarly American, with Mark Twain as its + editor. The magazine was to be called 'The Universal', and by the + proposition Clemens was to receive a tenth interest in it for his first + year's work, and an added twentieth interest for each of the two + succeeding years, with a guarantee that his shares should not earn him + less than five thousand dollars the first year, with a proportionate + increase as his holdings grew. + </p> + <p> + The scheme appealed to Clemens, it being understood in the beginning that + he was to give very little time to the work, with the privilege of doing + it at his home, wherever that might happen to be. He wrote of the matter + to Mr. Rogers, explaining in detail, and Rogers replied, approving the + plan. Mr. Rogers said he knew that he [Rogers] would have to do most of + the work in editing the magazine, and further added: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + One thing I shall insist upon, however, if I have anything to do + with the matter, and it is this: that when you have made up your + mind on the subject you will stick to it. I have not found in your + composition that element of stubbornness which is a constant source + of embarrassment to me in all friendly and social ways, but which, + when applied to certain lines of business, brings in the dollar and + fifty-cent pieces. If you accept the position, of course that means + that you have to come to this country. If you do, the yachting will + be a success. +</pre> + <p> + There was considerable correspondence with McClure over the new + periodical. In one letter Clemens set forth his general views of the + matter quite clearly: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Let us not deceive any one, nor allow any one to deceive himself, if + it can be prevented. This is not to be a comic magazine. It is to be + simply a good, clean, wholesome collection of well-written & + enticing literary products, like the other magazines of its class; + not setting itself to please but one of man's moods, but all of + them. It will not play but one kind of music, but all kinds. I + should not be able to edit a comic periodical satisfactorily, for + lack of interest in the work. I value humor highly, & am + constitutionally fond of it, but I should not like it as a steady + diet. For its own best interests, humor should take its outings in + grave company; its cheerful dress gets heightened color from the + proximity of sober hues. For me to edit a comic magazine would be + an incongruity & out of character, for of the twenty-three books + which I have written eighteen do not deal in humor as their chiefest + feature, but are half & half admixtures of fun & seriousness. I + think I have seldom deliberately set out to be humorous, but have + nearly always allowed the humor to drop in or stay out, according to + its fancy. Although I have many times been asked to write something + humorous for an editor or a publisher I have had wisdom enough to + decline; a person could hardly be humorous with the other man + watching him like that. I have never tried to write a humorous + lecture; I have only tried to write serious ones—it is the only way + not to succeed. + + I shall write for this magazine every time the spirit moves me; but + I look for my largest entertainment in editing. I have been edited + by all kinds of people for more than thirty-eight years; there has + always been somebody in authority over my manuscript & privileged to + improve it; this has fatigued me a good deal, & I have often longed + to move up from the dock to the bench & rest myself and fatigue + others. My opportunity is come, but I hope I shall not abuse it + overmuch. I mean to do my best to make a good magazine; I mean to + do my whole duty, & not shirk any part of it. There are plenty of + distinguished artists, novelists, poets, story-tellers, + philosophers, scientists, explorers, fighters, hunters, followers of + the sea, & seekers of adventure; & with these to do the hard & the + valuable part of the work with the pen & the pencil it will be + comfort & joy to me to walk the quarter-deck & superintend. +</pre> + <p> + Meanwhile McClure's enthusiasm had had time to adjust itself to certain + existing facts. Something more than a month later he wrote from America at + considerable length, setting forth the various editorial duties and laying + stress upon the feature of intimate physical contact with the magazine. He + went into the matter of the printing schedule, the various kinds of paper + used, the advertising pages, illustrations—into all the detail, + indeed, which a practical managing editor must compass in his daily + rounds. It was pretty evident that Clemens would not be able to go sailing + about on Mr. Rogers's yacht or live at will in London or New York or + Vienna or Elmira, but that he would be more or less harnessed to a + revolving chair at an editorial desk, the thing which of all fates he + would be most likely to dread. The scheme appears to have died there—the + correspondence to have closed. + </p> + <p> + Somewhat of the inducement in the McClure scheme had been the thought in + Clemens's mind that it would bring him back to America. In a letter to Mr. + Rogers (January 8, 1900) he said, “I am tired to death of this + everlasting exile.” Mrs. Clemens often wrote that he was restlessly + impatient to return. They were, in fact, constantly discussing the + practicability of returning to their own country now and opening the + Hartford home. Clemens was ready to do that or to fall in with any plan + that would bring him across the water and settle him somewhere + permanently. He was tired of the wandering life they had been leading. + Besides the long trip of '95 and '96 they had moved two or three times a + year regularly since leaving Hartford, nine years before. It seemed to him + that they were always packing and unpacking. + </p> + <p> + “The poor man is willing to live anywhere if we will only let him + 'stay put,” wrote Mrs. Clemens, but he did want to settle in his own + land. Mrs. Clemens, too, was weary with wandering, but the Hartford home + no longer held any attraction for her. There had been a time when her + every letter dwelt on their hope of returning to it. Now the thought + filled her with dread. To her sister she wrote: + </p> + <p> + Do you think we can live through the first going into the house in + Hartford? I feel if we had gotten through the first three months all might + be well, but consider the first night. + </p> + <p> + The thought of the responsibility of that great house—the taking up + again of the old life-disheartened her, too. She had added years and she + had not gained in health or strength. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When I was comparatively young I found the burden of that house very + great. I don't think I was ever fitted for housekeeping. I dislike + the practical part of it so much. I hate it when the servants don't + do well, and I hate the correcting them. +</pre> + <p> + Yet no one ever had better discipline in her domestic affairs or ever + commanded more devoted service. Her strength of character and the + proportions of her achievement show large when we consider this + confession. + </p> + <p> + They planned to return in the spring, but postponed the date for sailing. + Jean was still under Kellgren's treatment, and, though a cure had been + promised her, progress was discouragingly slow. They began to look about + for summer quarters in or near London. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0218" id="link2H_4_0218"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCX. LONDON SOCIAL AFFAIRS + </h2> + <p> + All this time Clemens had been tossing on the London social tide. There + was a call for him everywhere. No distinguished visitor of whatever + profession or rank but must meet Mark Twain. The King of Sweden was among + his royal conquests of that season. + </p> + <p> + He was more happy with men of his own kind. He was often with Moberly + Bell, editor of the Times; E. A. Abbey, the painter; Sir Henry Lucy, of + Punch (Toby, M.P.); James Bryce, and Herbert Gladstone; and there were a + number of brilliant Irishmen who were his special delight. Once with Mrs. + Clemens he dined with the author of his old favorite, 'European Morals', + William E. H. Lecky. Lady Gregory was there and Sir Dennis Fitz-Patrick, + who had been Governor-General at Lahore when they were in India, and a + number of other Irish ladies and gentlemen. It was a memorable evening. To + Twichell Clemens wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Joe, do you know the Irish gentleman & the Irish lady, the Scotch + gentleman & the Scotch lady? These are darlings, every one. Night + before last it was all Irish—24. One would have to travel far to + match their ease & sociability & animation & sparkle & absence of + shyness & self-consciousness. It was American in these fine + qualities. This was at Mr. Lecky's. He is Irish, you know. Last + night it was Irish again, at Lady Gregory's. Lord Roberts is Irish, + & Sir William Butler, & Kitchener, I think, & a disproportion of the + other prominent generals are of Irish & Scotch breed keeping up the + traditions of Wellington & Sir Colin Campbell, of the Mutiny. You + will have noticed that in S. A., as in the Mutiny, it is usually the + Irish & Scotch that are placed in the forefront of the battle.... + Sir William Butler said, “the Celt is the spearhead of the British + lance.” + </pre> + <p> + He mentions the news from the African war, which had been favorable to + England, and what a change had come over everything in consequence. The + dinner-parties had been lodges of sorrow and depressing. Now everybody was + smiling again. In a note-book entry of this time he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Relief of Mafeking (May 18, 1900). The news came at 9.17 P.M. + Before 10 all London was in the streets, gone mad with joy. By then + the news was all over the American continent. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens had been talking copyright a good deal in London, and introducing + it into his speeches. Finally, one day he was summoned before a committee + of the House of Lords to explain his views. His old idea that the product + of a man's brain is his property in perpetuity and not for any term of + years had not changed, and they permitted him to dilate on this (to them) + curious doctrine. The committee consisted of Lords Monkswell, Knutsford, + Avebury, Farrar, and Thwing. When they asked for his views he said: + </p> + <p> + “In my opinion the copyright laws of England and America need only + the removal of the forty-two-year limit and the return to perpetual + copyright to be perfect. I consider that at least one of the reasons + advanced in justification of limited copyright is fallacious—namely, + the one which makes a distinction between an author's property and real + estate, and pretends that the two are not created, produced, or acquired + in the same way, thus warranting a different treatment of the two by law.” + </p> + <p> + Continuing, he dwelt on the ancient doctrine that there was no property in + an idea, showing how the far greater proportion of all property consisted + of nothing more than elaborated ideas—the steamship, locomotive, + telephone, the vast buildings in the world, how all of these had been + constructed upon a basic idea precisely as a book is constructed, and were + property only as a book is property, and therefore rightly subject to the + same laws. He was carefully and searchingly examined by that shrewd + committee. He kept them entertained and interested and left them in + good-nature, even if not entirely converted. The papers printed his + remarks, and London found them amusing. + </p> + <p> + A few days after the copyright session, Clemens, responding to the toast, + “Literature,” at the Royal Literary Fund Banquet, made London + laugh again, and early in June he was at the Savoy Hotel welcoming Sir + Henry Irving back to England after one of his successful American tours. + </p> + <p> + On the Fourth of July (1900) Clemens dined with the Lord Chief-Justice, + and later attended an American banquet at the Hotel Cecil. He arrived + late, when a number of the guests were already going. They insisted, + however, that he make a speech, which he did, and considered the evening + ended. It was not quite over. A sequel to his “Luck” story, + published nine years before, suddenly developed. + </p> + <p> + To go back a little, the reader may recall that “Luck” was a + story which Twichell had told him as being supposedly true. The hero of it + was a military officer who had risen to the highest rank through what at + least seemed to be sheer luck, including a number of fortunate blunders. + Clemens thought the story improbable, but wrote it and laid it away for + several years, offering it at last in the general house-cleaning which + took place after the first collapse of the machine. It was published in + Harper's Magazine for August, 1891, and something less than a year later, + in Rome, an English gentleman—a new acquaintance—said to him: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Clemens, shall you go to England?” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall you take your tomahawk with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Why—yes, if it shall seem best.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it will. Be advised. Take it with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because of that sketch of yours entitled 'Luck.' That sketch is + current in England, and you will surely need your tomahawk.” + </p> + <p> + “What makes you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “I think so because the hero of the sketch will naturally want your + scalp, and will probably apply for it. Be advised. Take your tomahawk + along.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, even with it I sha'n't stand any chance, because I sha'n't + know him when he applies, and he will have my scalp before I know what his + errand is.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, do you mean to say that you don't know who the hero of that + sketch is?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I haven't any idea who the hero of the sketch is. Who is it?” + </p> + <p> + His informant hesitated a moment, then named a name of world-wide military + significance. + </p> + <p> + As Mask Twain finished his Fourth of July speech at the Cecil and started + to sit down a splendidly uniformed and decorated personage at his side + said: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Clemens, I have been wanting to know you a long time,” + and he was looking down into the face of the hero of “Luck.” + </p> + <p> + “I was caught unprepared,” he said in his notes of it. “I + didn't sit down—I fell down. I didn't have my tomahawk, and I didn't + know what would happen. But he was composed, and pretty soon I got + composed and we had a good, friendly time. If he had ever heard of that + sketch of mine he did not manifest it in any way, and at twelve, midnight, + I took my scalp home intact.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0219" id="link2H_4_0219"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXI. DOLLIS HILL AND HOME + </h2> + <p> + It was early in July, 1900, that they removed to Dollis Hill House, a + beautiful old residence surrounded by trees on a peaceful hilltop, just + outside of London. It was literally within a stone's-throw of the city + limits, yet it was quite rural, for the city had not overgrown it then, + and it retained all its pastoral features—a pond with lily-pads, the + spreading oaks, the wide spaces of grassy lawn. Gladstone, an intimate + friend of the owner, had made it a favorite retreat at one period of his + life, and the place to-day is converted into a public garden called + Gladstone Park. The old English diplomat used to drive out and sit in the + shade of the trees and read and talk and translate Homer, and pace the + lawn as he planned diplomacy, and, in effect, govern the English empire + from that retired spot. + </p> + <p> + Clemens, in some memoranda made at the moment, doubts if Gladstone was + always at peace in his mind in this retirement. + </p> + <p> + “Was he always really tranquil within,” he says, “or was + he only externally so—for effect? We cannot know; we only know that + his rustic bench under his favorite oak has no bark on its arms. Facts + like this speak louder than words.” + </p> + <p> + The red-brick residential wave of London was still some distance away in + 1900. Clemens says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The rolling sea of green grass still stretches away on every hand, + splotches with shadows of spreading oaks in whose black coolness + flocks of sheep lie peacefully dreaming. Dreaming of what? That + they are in London, the metropolis of the world, Post-office + District, N. W.? Indeed no. They are not aware of it. I am aware + of it, but that is all. It is not possible to realize it. For + there is no suggestion of city here; it is country, pure & simple, + & as still & reposeful as is the bottom of the sea. +</pre> + <p> + They all loved Dollis Hill. Mrs. Clemens wrote as if she would like to + remain forever in that secluded spot. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It is simply divinely beautiful & peaceful;... the great old + trees are beyond everything. I believe nowhere in the world do you + find such trees as in England.... Jean has a hammock swung + between two such great trees, & on the other side of a little pond, + which is full of white & yellow pond-lilies, there is tall grass & + trees & Clara & Jean go there in the afternoons, spread down a rug + on the grass in the shade & read & sleep. +</pre> + <p> + They all spent most of their time outdoors at Dollis Hill under those + spreading trees. + </p> + <p> + Clemens to Twichell in midsummer wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I am the only person who is ever in the house in the daytime, but I + am working & deep in the luxury of it. But there is one tremendous + defect. Livy is all so enchanted with the place & so in love with + it that she doesn't know how she is going to tear herself away from + it. +</pre> + <p> + Much company came to them at Dollis Hill. Friends drove out from London, + and friends from America came often, among them—the Sages, Prof. + Willard Fiske, and Brander Matthews with his family. Such callers were + served with tea and refreshment on the lawn, and lingered, talking and + talking, while the sun got lower and the shadows lengthened, reluctant to + leave that idyllic spot. + </p> + <p> + “Dollis Hill comes nearer to being a paradise than any other home I + ever occupied,” he wrote when the summer was about over. + </p> + <p> + But there was still a greater attraction than Dollis Hill. Toward the end + of summer they willingly left that paradise, for they had decided at last + to make that home-returning voyage which had invited them so long. They + were all eager enough to go—Clemens more eager than the rest, though + he felt a certain sadness, too, in leaving the tranquil spot which in a + brief summer they had so learned to love. + </p> + <p> + Writing to W. H. Helm, a London newspaper man who had spent pleasant hours + with him chatting in the shade, he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ... The packing & fussing & arranging have begun, for the + removal to America &, by consequence, the peace of life is marred & + its contents & satisfactions are departing. There is not much + choice between a removal & a funeral; in fact, a removal is a + funeral, substantially, & I am tired of attending them. +</pre> + <p> + They closed Dollis Hill, spent a few days at Brown's Hotel, and sailed for + America, on the Minnehaha, October 6, 1900, bidding, as Clemens believed, + and hoped, a permanent good-by to foreign travel. They reached New York on + the 15th, triumphantly welcomed after their long nine years of wandering. + How glad Mark Twain was to get home may be judged from his remark to one + of the many reporters who greeted him. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “If I ever get ashore I am going to break both of my legs so I + can't, get away again.” + </pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0220" id="link2H_4_0220"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VOLUME III, Part 1: 1900-1907 + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0221" id="link2H_4_0221"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXII. THE RETURN OF THE CONQUEROR + </h2> + <p> + It would be hard to exaggerate the stir which the newspapers and the + public generally made over the homecoming of Mark Twain. He had left + America, staggering under heavy obligation and set out on a pilgrimage of + redemption. At the moment when this Mecca, was in view a great sorrow had + befallen him and, stirred a world-wide and soul-deep tide of human + sympathy. Then there had followed such ovation as has seldom been + conferred upon a private citizen, and now approaching old age, still in + the fullness of his mental vigor, he had returned to his native soil with + the prestige of these honors upon him and the vast added glory of having + made his financial fight single-handed-and won. + </p> + <p> + He was heralded literally as a conquering hero. Every paper in the land + had an editorial telling the story of his debts, his sorrow, and his + triumphs. + </p> + <p> + “He had behaved like Walter Scott,” says Howells, “as + millions rejoiced to know who had not known how Walter Scott had behaved + till they knew it was like Clemens.” + </p> + <p> + Howells acknowledges that he had some doubts as to the permanency of the + vast acclaim of the American public, remembering, or perhaps assuming, a + national fickleness. Says Howells: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He had hitherto been more intelligently accepted or more largely + imagined in Europe, and I suppose it was my sense of this that + inspired the stupidity of my saying to him when we came to consider + “the state of polite learning” among us, “You mustn't expect people + to keep it up here as they do in England.” But it appeared that his + countrymen were only wanting the chance, and they kept it up in + honor of him past all precedent. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens went to the Earlington Hotel and began search for a furnished + house in New York. They would not return to Hartford—at least not + yet. The associations there were still too sad, and they immediately + became more so. Five days after Mark Twain's return to America, his old + friend and co-worker, Charles Dudley Warner, died. Clemens went to + Hartford to act as a pall-bearer and while there looked into the old home. + To Sylvester Baxter, of Boston, who had been present, he wrote a few days + later: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It was a great pleasure to me to renew the other days with you, & + there was a pathetic pleasure in seeing Hartford & the house again; + but I realized that if we ever enter the house again to live our + hearts will break. I am not sure that we shall ever be strong + enough to endure that strain. +</pre> + <p> + Even if the surroundings had been less sorrowful it is not likely that + Clemens would have returned to Hartford at this time. He had become a + world-character, a dweller in capitals. Everywhere he moved a world + revolved about him. Such a figure in Germany would live naturally in + Berlin; in England London; in France, Paris; in Austria, Vienna; in + America his headquarters could only be New York. + </p> + <p> + Clemens empowered certain of his friends to find a home for him, and Mr. + Frank N. Doubleday discovered an attractive and handsomely furnished + residence at 14 West Tenth Street, which was promptly approved. Doubleday, + who was going to Boston, left orders with the agent to draw the lease and + take it up to the new tenant for signature. To Clemens he said: + </p> + <p> + “The house is as good as yours. All you've got to do is to sign the + lease. You can consider it all settled.” + </p> + <p> + When Doubleday returned from Boston a few days later the agent called on + him and complained that he couldn't find Mark Twain anywhere. It was + reported at his hotel that he had gone and left no address. Doubleday was + mystified; then, reflecting, he had an inspiration. He walked over to 14 + West Tenth Street and found what he had suspected—Mark Twain had + moved in. He had convinced the caretaker that everything was all right and + he was quite at home. Doubleday said: + </p> + <p> + “Why, you haven't executed the lease yet.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Clemens, “but you said the house was as good + as mine,” to which Doubleday agreed, but suggested that they go up + to the real-estate office and give the agent notice that he was in + possession of the premises. + </p> + <p> + Doubleday's troubles were not quite over, however. Clemens began to find + defects in his new home and assumed to hold Doubleday responsible for + them. He sent a daily postal card complaining of the windows, furnace, the + range, the water-whatever he thought might lend interest to Doubleday's + life. As a matter of fact, he was pleased with the place. To MacAlister he + wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We were very lucky to get this big house furnished. There was not + another one in town procurable that would answer us, but this one is + all right-space enough in it for several families, the rooms all + old-fashioned, great size. +</pre> + <p> + The house at 14 West Tenth Street became suddenly one of the most + conspicuous residences in New York. The papers immediately made its + appearance familiar. Many people passed down that usually quiet street, + stopping to observe or point out where Mark Twain lived. There was a + constant procession of callers of every kind. Many were friends, old and + new, but there was a multitude of strangers. Hundreds came merely to + express their appreciation of his work, hoping for a personal word or a + hand-shake or an autograph; but there were other hundreds who came with + this thing and that thing—axes to grind—and there were + newspaper reporters to ask his opinion on politics, or polygamy, or + woman's suffrage; on heaven and hell and happiness; on the latest novel; + on the war in Africa, the troubles in China; on anything under the sun, + important or unimportant, interesting or inane, concerning which one might + possibly hold an opinion. He was unfailing “copy” if they + could but get a word with him. Anything that he might choose to say upon + any subject whatever was seized upon and magnified and printed with + head-lines. Sometimes opinions were invented for him. If he let fall a few + words they were multiplied into a column interview. + </p> + <p> + “That reporter worked a miracle equal to the loaves and fishes,” + he said of one such performance. + </p> + <p> + Many men would have become annoyed and irritable as these things + continued; but Mark Twain was greater than that. Eventually he employed a + secretary to stand between him and the wash of the tide, as a sort of + breakwater; but he seldom lost his temper no matter what was the request + which was laid before him, for he recognized underneath it the great + tribute of a great nation. + </p> + <p> + Of course his literary valuation would be affected by the noise of the + general applause. Magazines and syndicates besought him for manuscripts. + He was offered fifty cents and even a dollar a word for whatever he might + give them. He felt a child-like gratification in these evidences of his + market advancement, but he was not demoralized by them. He confined his + work to a few magazines, and in November concluded an arrangement with the + new management of Harper & Brothers, by which that firm was to have + the exclusive serial privilege of whatever he might write at a fixed rate + of twenty cents per word—a rate increased to thirty cents by a later + contract, which also provided an increased royalty for the publication of + his books. + </p> + <p> + The United States, as a nation, does not confer any special honors upon + private citizens. We do not have decorations and titles, even though there + are times when it seems that such things might be not inappropriately + conferred. Certain of the newspapers, more lavish in their enthusiasm than + others, were inclined to propose, as one paper phrased it, “Some + peculiar recognition—something that should appeal to Samuel L. + Clemens, the man, rather than to Mark Twain, the literate. Just what form + this recognition should take is doubtful, for the case has no exact + precedent.” + </p> + <p> + Perhaps the paper thought that Mark Twain was entitled—as he himself + once humorously suggested-to the “thanks of Congress” for + having come home alive and out of debt, but it is just as well that + nothing of the sort was ever seriously considered. The thanks of the + public at large contained more substance, and was a tribute much more to + his mind. The paper above quoted ended by suggesting a very large dinner + and memorial of welcome as being more in keeping with the republican idea + and the American expression of good-will. + </p> + <p> + But this was an unneeded suggestion. If he had eaten all the dinners + proposed he would not have lived to enjoy his public honors a month. As it + was, he accepted many more dinners than he could eat, and presently fell + into the habit of arriving when the banqueting was about over and the + after-dinner speaking about to begin. Even so the strain told on him. + </p> + <p> + “His friends saw that he was wearing himself out,” says + Howells, and perhaps this was true, for he grew thin and pale and + contracted a hacking cough. He did not spare himself as often as he should + have done. Once to Richard Watson Gilder he sent this line of regrets: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In bed with a chest cold and other company—Wednesday. + DEAR GILDER,—I can't. If I were a well man I could explain with + this pencil, but in the cir—-ces I will leave it all to your + imagination. + + Was it Grady who killed himself trying to do all the dining and + speeching? + + No, old man, no, no! Ever yours, MARK. +</pre> + <p> + He became again the guest of honor at the Lotos Club, which had dined him + so lavishly seven years before, just previous to his financial collapse. + That former dinner had been a distinguished occasion, but never before had + the Lotos Club been so brimming with eager hospitality as on the second + great occasion. In closing his introductory speech President Frank + Lawrence said, “We hail him as one who has borne great burdens with + manliness and courage, who has emerged from great struggles victorious,” + and the assembled diners roared out their applause. Clemens in his reply + said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Your president has referred to certain burdens which I was weighted + with. I am glad he did, as it gives me an opportunity which I + wanted—to speak of those debts. You all knew what he meant when he + referred to it, & of the poor bankrupt firm of C. L. Webster & Co. + No one has said a word about those creditors. There were ninety-six + creditors in all, & not by a finger's weight did ninety-five out of + the ninety-six add to the burden of that time. They treated me + well; they treated me handsomely. I never knew I owed them + anything; not a sign came from them. +</pre> + <p> + It was like him to make that public acknowledgment. He could not let an + unfair impression remain that any man or any set of men had laid an + unnecessary burden upon him-his sense of justice would not consent to it. + He also spoke on that occasion of certain national changes. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + How many things have happened in the seven years I have been away + from home! We have fought a righteous war, and a righteous war is a + rare thing in history. We have turned aside from our own comfort + and seen to it that freedom should exist, not only within our own + gates, but in our own neighborhood. We have set Cuba free and + placed her among the galaxy of free nations of the world. We + started out to set those poor Filipinos free, but why that righteous + plan miscarried perhaps I shall never know. We have also been + making a creditable showing in China, and that is more than all the + other powers can say. The “Yellow Terror” is threatening the world, + but no matter what happens the United States says that it has had no + part in it. + + Since I have been away we have been nursing free silver. We have + watched by its cradle, we have done our best to raise that child, + but every time it seemed to be getting along nicely along came some + pestiferous Republican and gave it the measles or something. I fear + we will never raise that child. + + We've done more than that. We elected a President four years ago. + We've found fault and criticized him, and here a day or two ago we + go and elect him for another four years, with votes enough to spare + to do it over again. +</pre> + <p> + One club followed another in honoring Mark Twain—the Aldine, the St. + Nicholas, the Press clubs, and other associations and societies. His old + friends were at these dinners—Howells, Aldrich, Depew, Rogers, + ex-Speaker Reed—and they praised him and gibed him to his and their + hearts' content. + </p> + <p> + It was a political year, and he generally had something to say on matters + municipal, national, or international; and he spoke out more and more + freely, as with each opportunity he warmed more righteously to his + subject. + </p> + <p> + At the dinner given to him by the St. Nicholas Club he said, with deep + irony: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Gentlemen, you have here the best municipal government in the world, + and the most fragrant and the purest. The very angels of heaven + envy you and wish they had a government like it up there. You got + it by your noble fidelity to civic duty; by the stern and ever + watchful exercise of the great powers lodged in you as lovers and + guardians of your city; by your manly refusal to sit inert when base + men would have invaded her high places and possessed them; by your + instant retaliation when any insult was offered you in her person, + or any assault was made upon her fair fame. It is you who have made + this government what it is, it is you who have made it the envy and + despair of the other capitals of the world—and God bless you for + it, gentlemen, God bless you! And when you get to heaven at last + they'll say with joy, “Oh, there they come, the representatives of + the perfectest citizenship in the universe show them the archangel's + box and turn on the limelight!” + </pre> + <p> + Those hearers who in former years had been indifferent to Mark Twain's + more serious purpose began to realize that, whatever he may have been + formerly, he was by no means now a mere fun-maker, but a man of deep and + grave convictions, able to give them the fullest and most forcible + expression. He still might make them laugh, but he also made them think, + and he stirred them to a truer gospel of patriotism. He did not preach a + patriotism that meant a boisterous cheering of the Stars and Stripes right + or wrong, but a patriotism that proposed to keep the Stars and Stripes + clean and worth shouting for. In an article, perhaps it was a speech, + begun at this time he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We teach the boys to atrophy their independence. We teach them to + take their patriotism at second-hand; to shout with the largest + crowd without examining into the right or wrong of the matter + —exactly as boys under monarchies are taught and have always been + taught. We teach them to regard as traitors, and hold in aversion + and contempt, such as do not shout with the crowd, & so here in our + democracy we are cheering a thing which of all things is most + foreign to it & out of place—the delivery of our political + conscience into somebody else's keeping. This is patriotism on the + Russian plan. +</pre> + <p> + Howells tells of discussing these vital matters with him in “an + upper room, looking south over a quiet, open space of back yards where,” + he says, “we fought our battles in behalf of the Filipinos and + Boers, and he carried on his campaign against the missionaries in China.” + </p> + <p> + Howells at the time expressed an amused fear that Mark Twain's countrymen, + who in former years had expected him to be merely a humorist, should now, + in the light of his wider acceptance abroad, demand that he be mainly + serious. + </p> + <p> + But the American people were quite ready to accept him in any of his + phases, fully realizing that whatever his philosophy or doctrine it would + have somewhat of the humorous form, and whatever his humor, there would + somewhere be wisdom in it. He had in reality changed little; for a + generation he had thought the sort of things which he now, with advanced + years and a different audience, felt warranted in uttering openly. The man + who in '64 had written against corruption in San Francisco, who a few + years later had defended the emigrant Chinese against persecution, who at + the meetings of the Monday Evening Club had denounced hypocrisy in + politics, morals, and national issues, did not need to change to be able + to speak out against similar abuses now. And a newer generation as willing + to herald Mark Twain as a sage as well as a humorist, and on occasion to + quite overlook the absence of the cap and bells. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0222" id="link2H_4_0222"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXIII. MARK TWAIN—GENERAL SPOKESMAN + </h2> + <p> + Clemens did not confine his speeches altogether to matters of reform. At a + dinner given by the Nineteenth Century Club in November, 1900, he spoke on + the “Disappearance of Literature,” and at the close of the + discussion of that subject, referring to Milton and Scott, he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Professor Winchester also said something about there being no modern + epics like “Paradise Lost.” I guess he's right. He talked as if he + was pretty familiar with that piece of literary work, and nobody + would suppose that he never had read it. I don't believe any of you + have ever read “Paradise Lost,” and you don't want to. That's + something that you just want to take on trust. It's a classic, just + as Professor Winchester says, and it meets his definition of a + classic—something that everybody wants to have read and nobody + wants to read. + + Professor Trent also had a good deal to say about the disappearance + of literature. He said that Scott would outlive all his critics. + I guess that's true. That fact of the business is you've got to be + one of two ages to appreciate Scott. When you're eighteen you can + read Ivanhoe, and you want to wait until you're ninety to read some + of the rest. It takes a pretty well-regulated abstemious critic to + live ninety years. +</pre> + <p> + But a few days later he was back again in the forefront of reform, + preaching at the Berkeley Lyceum against foreign occupation in China. It + was there that he declared himself a Boxer. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Why should not China be free from the foreigners, who are only + making trouble on her soil? If they would only all go home what a + pleasant place China would be for the Chinese! We do not allow + Chinamen to come here, and I say, in all seriousness, that it would + be a graceful thing to let China decide who shall go there. + + China never wanted foreigners any more than foreigners wanted + Chinamen, and on this question I am with the Boxers every time. The + Boxer is a patriot. He loves his country better than he does the + countries of other people. I wish him success. We drive the + Chinaman out of our country; the Boxer believes in driving us out of + his country. I am a Boxer, too, on those terms. +</pre> + <p> + Introducing Winston Churchill, of England, at a dinner some weeks later, + he explained how generous England and America had been in not requiring + fancy rates for “extinguished missionaries” in China as + Germany had done. Germany had required territory and cash, he said, in + payment for her missionaries, while the United States and England had been + willing to settle for produce—firecrackers and tea. + </p> + <p> + The Churchill introduction would seem to have been his last speech for the + year 1900, and he expected it, with one exception, to be the last for a + long time. He realized that he was tired and that the strain upon him made + any other sort of work out of the question. Writing to MacAlister at the + end of the year, he said, “I seem to have made many speeches, but it + is not so. It is not more than ten, I think.” Still, a respectable + number in the space of two months, considering that each was carefully + written and committed to memory, and all amid crushing social pressure. + Again to MacAlister: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I declined 7 banquets yesterday (which is double the daily average) + & answered 29 letters. I have slaved at my mail every day since we + arrived in mid-October, but Jean is learning to typewrite & + presently I'll dictate & thereby save some scraps of time. +</pre> + <p> + He added that after January 4th he did not intend to speak again for a + year—that he would not speak then only that the matter concerned the + reform of city government. + </p> + <p> + The occasion of January 4, 1901, was a rather important one. It was a + meeting of the City Club, then engaged in the crusade for municipal + reform. Wheeler H. Peckham presided, and Bishop Potter made the opening + address. It all seems like ancient history now, and perhaps is not very + vital any more; but the movement was making a great stir then, and Mark + Twain's declaration that he believed forty-nine men out of fifty were + honest, and that the forty-nine only needed to organize to disqualify the + fiftieth man (always organized for crime), was quoted as a sort of slogan + for reform. + </p> + <p> + Clemens was not permitted to keep his resolution that he wouldn't speak + again that year. He had become a sort of general spokesman on public + matters, and demands were made upon him which could not be denied. He + declined a Yale alumni dinner, but he could not refuse to preside at the + Lincoln Birthday celebration at Carnegie Hall, February 11th, where he + must introduce Watterson as the speaker of the evening. + </p> + <p> + “Think of it!” he wrote Twichell. “Two old rebels + functioning there: I as president and Watterson as orator of the day! + Things have changed somewhat in these forty years, thank God!” + </p> + <p> + The Watterson introduction is one of the choicest of Mark Twain's speeches—a + pure and perfect example of simple eloquence, worthy of the occasion which + gave it utterance, worthy in spite of its playful paragraphs (or even + because of them, for Lincoln would have loved them), to become the matrix + of that imperishable Gettysburg phrase with which he makes his climax. He + opened by dwelling for a moment on Colonel Watterson as a soldier, + journalist, orator, statesman, and patriot; then he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It is a curious circumstance that without collusion of any kind, but + merely in obedience to a strange and pleasant and dramatic freak of + destiny, he and I, kinsmen by blood—[Colonel Watterson's forebears + had intermarried with the Lamptons.]—for we are that—and one-time + rebels—for we were that—should be chosen out of a million + surviving quondam rebels to come here and bare our heads in + reverence and love of that noble soul whom 40 years ago we tried + with all our hearts and all our strength to defeat and dispossess + —Abraham Lincoln! Is the Rebellion ended and forgotten? Are the + Blue and the Gray one to-day? By authority of this sign we may + answer yes; there was a Rebellion—that incident is closed. + + I was born and reared in a slave State, my father was a slaveowner; + and in the Civil War I was a second lieutenant in the Confederate + service. For a while. This second cousin of mine, Colonel + Watterson, the orator of this present occasion, was born and reared + in a slave State, was a colonel in the Confederate service, and + rendered me such assistance as he could in my self-appointed great + task of annihilating the Federal armies and breaking up the Union. + I laid my plans with wisdom and foresight, and if Colonel Watterson + had obeyed my orders I should have succeeded in my giant + undertaking. It was my intention to drive General Grant into the + Pacific—if I could get transportation—and I told Colonel Watterson + to surround the Eastern armies and wait till I came. But he was + insubordinate, and stood upon a punctilio of military etiquette; he + refused to take orders from a second lieutenant—and the Union was + saved. This is the first time that this secret has been revealed. + Until now no one outside the family has known the facts. But there + they stand: Watterson saved the Union. Yet to this day that man + gets no pension. Those were great days, splendid days. What an + uprising it was! For the hearts of the whole nation, North and + South, were in the war. We of the South were not ashamed; for, like + the men of the North, we were fighting for 'flags we loved; and when + men fight for these things, and under these convictions, with + nothing sordid to tarnish their cause, that cause is holy, the blood + spilt for it is sacred, the life that is laid down for it is + consecrated. To-day we no longer regret the result, to-day we are + glad it came out as it did, but we are not ashamed that we did our + endeavor; we did our bravest best, against despairing odds, for the + cause which was precious to us and which our consciences approved; + and we are proud—and you are proud—the kindred blood in your veins + answers when I say it—you are proud of the record we made in those + mighty collisions in the fields. + + What an uprising it was! We did not have to supplicate for soldiers + on either side. “We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred + thousand strong!” That was the music North and South. The very + choicest young blood and brawn and brain rose up from Maine to the + Gulf and flocked to the standards—just as men always do when in + their eyes their cause is great and fine and their hearts are in it; + just as men flocked to the Crusades, sacrificing all they possessed + to the cause, and entering cheerfully upon hardships which we cannot + even imagine in this age, and upon toilsome and wasting journeys + which in our time would be the equivalent of circumnavigating the + globe five times over. + + North and South we put our hearts into that colossal struggle, and + out of it came the blessed fulfilment of the prophecy of the + immortal Gettysburg speech which said: “We here highly resolve that + these dead shall not have died in vain; that this nation, under God, + shall have a new birth of freedom; and that a government of the + people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the + earth.” + + We are here to honor the birthday of the greatest citizen, and the + noblest and the best, after Washington, that this land or any other + has yet produced. The old wounds are healed, you and we are + brothers again; you testify it by honoring two of us, once soldiers + of the Lost Cause, and foes of your great and good leader—with the + privilege of assisting here; and we testify it by laying our honest + homage at the feet of Abraham Lincoln, and in forgetting that you of + the North and we of the South were ever enemies, and remembering + only that we are now indistinguishably fused together and nameable + by one common great name—Americans! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0223" id="link2H_4_0223"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXIV. MARK TWAIN AND THE MISSIONARIES + </h2> + <p> + Mark Twain had really begun his crusade for reform soon after his arrival + in America in a practical hand-to-hand manner. His housekeeper, Katie + Leary, one night employed a cabman to drive her from the Grand Central + Station to the house at 14 West Tenth Street. No contract had been made as + to price, and when she arrived there the cabman's extortionate charge was + refused. He persisted in it, and she sent into the house for her employer. + Of all men, Mark Twain was the last one to countenance an extortion. He + reasoned with the man kindly enough at first; when the driver at last + became abusive Clemens demanded his number, which was at first refused. In + the end he paid the legal fare, and in the morning entered a formal + complaint, something altogether unexpected, for the American public is + accustomed to suffering almost any sort of imposition to avoid trouble and + publicity. + </p> + <p> + In some notes which Clemens had made in London four years earlier he + wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + If you call a policeman to settle the dispute you can depend on one + thing—he will decide it against you every time. And so will the + New York policeman. In London if you carry your case into court the + man that is entitled to win it will win it. In New York—but no one + carries a cab case into court there. It is my impression that it is + now more than thirty years since any one has carried a cab case into + court there. +</pre> + <p> + Nevertheless, he was promptly on hand when the case was called to sustain + the charge and to read the cabdrivers' union and the public in general a + lesson in good-citizenship. At the end of the hearing, to a representative + of the union he said: + </p> + <p> + “This is not a matter of sentiment, my dear sir. It is simply + practical business. You cannot imagine that I am making money wasting an + hour or two of my time prosecuting a case in which I can have no personal + interest whatever. I am doing this just as any citizen should do. He has + no choice. He has a distinct duty. He is a non-classified policeman. Every + citizen is, a policeman, and it is his duty to assist the police and the + magistracy in every way he can, and give his time, if necessary, to do so. + Here is a man who is a perfectly natural product of an infamous system in + this city—a charge upon the lax patriotism in this city of New York + that this thing can exist. You have encouraged him, in every way you know + how to overcharge. He is not the criminal here at all. The criminal is the + citizen of New York and the absence of patriotism. I am not here to avenge + myself on him. I have no quarrel with him. My quarrel is with the citizens + of New York, who have encouraged him, and who created him by encouraging + him to overcharge in this way.” + </p> + <p> + The driver's license was suspended. The case made a stir in the + newspapers, and it is not likely that any one incident ever contributed + more to cab-driving morals in New York City. + </p> + <p> + But Clemens had larger matters than this in prospect. His many speeches on + municipal and national abuses he felt were more or less ephemeral. He + proposed now to write himself down more substantially and for a wider + hearing. The human race was behaving very badly: unspeakable corruption + was rampant in the city; the Boers were being oppressed in South Africa; + the natives were being murdered in the Philippines; Leopold of Belgium was + massacring and mutilating the blacks in the Congo, and the allied powers, + in the cause of Christ, were slaughtering the Chinese. In his letters he + had more than once boiled over touching these matters, and for New-Year's + Eve, 1900, had written: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A GREETING FROM THE NINETEENTH TO THE TWENTIETH CENTURY + + I bring you the stately nation named Christendom, returning, + bedraggled, besmirched, and dishonored, from pirate raids in Kiao- + Chou, Manchuria, South Africa, and the Philippines, with her soul + full of meanness, her pocket full of boodle, and her mouth full of + pious hypocrisies. Give her soap and towel, but hide the looking- + glass.—[Prepared for Red Cross Society watch-meeting, which was + postponed until March. Clemens recalled his “Greeting” for that + reason and for one other, which he expressed thus: “The list of + greeters thus far issued by you contains only vague generalities and + one definite name—mine: 'Some kings and queens and Mark Twain.' Now + I am not enjoying this sparkling solitude and distinction. It makes + me feel like a circus-poster in a graveyard.”] +</pre> + <p> + This was a sort of preliminary. Then, restraining himself no longer, he + embodied his sentiments in an article for the North American Review + entitled, “To the Person Sitting in Darkness.” There was + crying need for some one to speak the right word. He was about the only + one who could do it and be certain of a universal audience. He took as his + text some Christmas Eve clippings from the New York Tribune and Sun which + he had been saving for this purpose. The Tribune clipping said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Christmas will dawn in the United States over a people full of hope + and aspiration and good cheer. Such a condition means contentment + and happiness. The carping grumbler who may here and there go forth + will find few to listen to him. The majority will wonder what is + the matter with him, and pass on. +</pre> + <p> + A Sun clipping depicted the “terrible offenses against humanity + committed in the name of politics in some of the most notorious East Side + districts “—the unmissionaried, unpoliced darker New York. The + Sun declared that they could not be pictured even verbally. But it + suggested enough to make the reader shudder at the hideous depths of vice + in the sections named. Another clipping from the same paper reported the + “Rev. Mr. Ament, of the American Board of Foreign Missions,” + as having collected indemnities for Boxer damages in China at the rate of + three hundred taels for each murder, “full payment for all destroyed + property belonging to Christians, and national fines amounting to thirteen + times the indemnity.” It quoted Mr. Ament as saying that the money + so obtained was used for the propagation of the Gospel, and that the + amount so collected was moderate when compared with the amount secured by + the Catholics, who had demanded, in addition to money, life for life, that + is to say, “head for head”—in one district six hundred + and eighty heads having been so collected. + </p> + <p> + The despatch made Mr. Ament say a great deal more than this, but the gist + here is enough. Mark Twain, of course, was fiercely stirred. The + missionary idea had seldom appealed to him, and coupled with this business + of bloodshed, it was less attractive than usual. He printed the clippings + in full, one following the other; then he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + By happy luck we get all these glad tidings on Christmas Eve—just + the time to enable us to celebrate the day with proper gaiety and + enthusiasm. Our spirits soar and we find we can even make jokes; + taels I win, heads you lose. +</pre> + <p> + He went on to score Ament, to compare the missionary policy in China to + that of the Pawnee Indians, and to propose for him a monument—subscriptions + to be sent to the American Board. He denounced the national policies in + Africa, China, and the Philippines, and showed by the reports and by the + private letters of soldiers home, how cruel and barbarous and fiendish had + been the warfare made by those whose avowed purpose was to carry the + blessed light of civilization and Gospel “to the benighted native”—how + in very truth these priceless blessings had been handed on the point of a + bayonet to the “Person Sitting in Darkness.” + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain never wrote anything more scorching, more penetrating in its + sarcasm, more fearful in its revelation of injustice and hypocrisy, than + his article “To the Person Sitting in Darkness.” He put + aquafortis on all the raw places, and when it was finished he himself + doubted the wisdom of printing it. Howells, however, agreed that it should + be published, and “it ought to be illustrated by Dan Beard,” + he added, “with such pictures as he made for the Yankee in King + Arthur's Court, but you'd better hang yourself afterward.” + </p> + <p> + Meeting Beard a few days later, Clemens mentioned the matter and said: + </p> + <p> + “So if you make the pictures, you hang with me.” + </p> + <p> + But pictures were not required. It was published in the North American + Review for February, 1901, as the opening article; after which the + cyclone. Two storms moving in opposite directions produce a cyclone, and + the storms immediately developed; one all for Mark Twain and his + principles, the other all against him. Every paper in England and America + commented on it editorially, with bitter denunciations or with eager + praise, according to their lights and convictions. + </p> + <p> + At 14 West Tenth Street letters, newspaper clippings, documents poured in + by the bushel—laudations, vituperations, denunciations, + vindications; no such tumult ever occurred in a peaceful literary home. It + was really as if he had thrown a great missile into the human hive, + one-half of which regarded it as a ball of honey and the remainder as a + cobblestone. Whatever other effect it may have had, it left no thinking + person unawakened. + </p> + <p> + Clemens reveled in it. W. A. Rogers, in Harper's Weekly, caricatured him + as Tom Sawyer in a snow fort, assailed by the shower of snowballs, “having + the time of his life.” Another artist, Fred Lewis, pictured him as + Huck Finn with a gun. + </p> + <p> + The American Board was naturally disturbed. The Ament clipping which + Clemens had used had been public property for more than a month—its + authenticity never denied; but it was immediately denied now, and the + cable kept hot with inquiries. + </p> + <p> + The Rev. Judson Smith, one of the board, took up the defense of Dr. Ament, + declaring him to be one who had suffered for the cause, and asked Mark + Twain, whose “brilliant article,” he said, “would + produce an effect quite beyond the reach of plain argument,” not to + do an innocent man an injustice. Clemens in the same paper replied that + such was not his intent, that Mr. Ament in his report had simply arraigned + himself. + </p> + <p> + Then it suddenly developed that the cable report had “grossly + exaggerated” the amount of Mr. Ament's collections. Instead of + thirteen times the indemnity it should have read “one and a third + times” the indemnity; whereupon, in another open letter, the board + demanded retraction and apology. Clemens would not fail to make the + apology—at least he would explain. It was precisely the kind of + thing that would appeal to him—the delicate moral difference between + a demand thirteen times as great as it should be and a demand that was + only one and a third times the correct amount. “To My Missionary + Critics,” in the North American Review for April (1901), was his + formal and somewhat lengthy reply. + </p> + <p> + “I have no prejudice against apologies,” he wrote. “I + trust I shall never withhold one when it is due.” + </p> + <p> + He then proceeded to make out his case categorically. Touching the + exaggerated indemnity, he said: + </p> + <p> + To Dr. Smith the “thirteen-fold-extra” clearly stood for + “theft and extortion,” and he was right, distinctly right, + indisputably right. He manifestly thinks that when it got scaled away down + to a mere “one-third” a little thing like that was some other + than “theft and extortion.” Why, only the board knows! + </p> + <p> + I will try to explain this difficult problem so that the board can get an + idea of it. If a pauper owes me a dollar and I catch him unprotected and + make him pay me fourteen dollars thirteen of it is “theft and + extortion.” If I make him pay only one dollar thirty-three and a + third cents the thirty-three and a third cents are “theft and + extortion,” just the same. + </p> + <p> + I will put it in another way still simpler. If a man owes me one dog—any + kind of a dog, the breed is of no consequence—and I—but let it + go; the board would never understand it. It can't understand these + involved and difficult things. + </p> + <p> + He offered some further illustrations, including the “Tale of a King + and His Treasure” and another tale entitled “The Watermelons.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have it now. Many years ago, when I was studying for the gallows, + I had a dear comrade, a youth who was not in my line, but still a + scrupulously good fellow though devious. He was preparing to + qualify for a place on the board, for there was going to be a + vacancy by superannuation in about five years. This was down South, + in the slavery days. It was the nature of the negro then, as now, + to steal watermelons. They stole three of the melons of an adoptive + brother of mine, the only good ones he had. I suspected three of a + neighbor's negroes, but there was no proof, and, besides, the + watermelons in those negroes' private patches were all green and + small and not up to indemnity standard. But in the private patches + of three other negroes there was a number of competent melons. I + consulted with my comrade, the understudy of the board. He said + that if I would approve his arrangements he would arrange. I said, + “Consider me the board; I approve; arrange.” So he took a gun and + went and collected three large melons for my brother-on-the- + halfshell, and one over. I was greatly pleased and asked: + + “Who gets the extra one?” + “Widows and orphans.” + + “A good idea, too. Why didn't you take thirteen?” + + “It would have been wrong; a crime, in fact-theft and extortion.” + + “What is the one-third extra—the odd melon—the same?” + + It caused him to reflect. But there was no result. + + The justice of the peace was a stern man. On the trial he found + fault with the scheme and required us to explain upon what we based + our strange conduct—as he called it. The understudy said: + + “On the custom of the niggers. They all do it.”—[The point had + been made by the board that it was the Chinese custom to make the + inhabitants of a village responsible for individual crimes; and + custom, likewise, to collect a third in excess of the damage, such + surplus having been applied to the support of widows and orphans of + the slain converts.] + + The justice forgot his dignity and descended to sarcasm. + + “Custom of the niggers! Are our morals so inadequate that we have + to borrow of niggers?” + + Then he said to the jury: “Three melons were owing; they were + collected from persons not proven to owe them: this is theft; they + were collected by compulsion: this is extortion. A melon was added + for the widows and orphans. It was owed by no one. It is another + theft, another extortion. Return it whence it came, with the + others. It is not permissible here to apply to any purpose goods + dishonestly obtained; not even to the feeding of widows and orphans, + for this would be to put a shame upon charity and dishonor it.” + + He said it in open court, before everybody, and to me it did not + seem very kind. +</pre> + <p> + It was in the midst of the tumult that Clemens, perhaps feeling the need + of sacred melody, wrote to Andrew Carnegie: + </p> + <p> + DEAR SIR & FRIEND,—You seem to be in prosperity. Could you lend + an admirer $1.50 to buy a hymn-book with? God will bless you. I feel it; I + know it. + </p> + <p> + N. B.—If there should be other applications, this one not to count. + </p> + <p> + Yours, MARK. + </p> + <p> + P. S.-Don't send the hymn-book; send the money; I want to make the + selection myself. + </p> + <p> + Carnegie answered: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Nothing less than a two-dollar & a half hymn-book gilt will do for + you. Your place in the choir (celestial) demands that & you shall + have it. + + There's a new Gospel of Saint Mark in the North American which I + like better than anything I've read for many a day. + + I am willing to borrow a thousand dollars to distribute that sacred + message in proper form, & if the author don't object may I send that + sum, when I can raise it, to the Anti-Imperialist League, Boston, to + which I am a contributor, the only missionary work I am responsible + for. + + Just tell me you are willing & many thousands of the holy little + missals will go forth. This inimitable satire is to become a + classic. I count among my privileges in life that I know you, the + author. +</pre> + <p> + Perhaps a few more of the letters invited by Mark Twain's criticism of + missionary work in China may still be of interest to the reader: Frederick + T. Cook, of the Hospital Saturday and Sunday Association, wrote: “I + hail you as the Voltaire of America. It is a noble distinction. God bless + you and see that you weary not in well-doing in this noblest, sublimest of + crusades.” + </p> + <p> + Ministers were by no means all against him. The associate pastor of the + Every-day Church, in Boston, sent this line: “I want to thank you + for your matchless article in the current North American. It must make + converts of well-nigh all who read it.” + </p> + <p> + But a Boston school-teacher was angry. “I have been reading the + North American,” she wrote, “and I am filled with shame and + remorse that I have dreamed of asking you to come to Boston to talk to the + teachers.” + </p> + <p> + On the outside of the envelope Clemens made this pencil note: + </p> + <p> + “Now, I suppose I offended that young lady by having an opinion of + my own, instead of waiting and copying hers. I never thought. I suppose + she must be as much as twenty-five, and probably the only patriot in the + country.” + </p> + <p> + A critic with a sense of humor asked: “Please excuse seeming + impertinence, but were you ever adjudged insane? Be honest. How much money + does the devil give you for arraigning Christianity and missionary causes?” + </p> + <p> + But there were more of the better sort. Edward S. Martin, in a grateful + letter, said: “How gratifying it is to feel that we have a man among + us who understands the rarity of the plain truth, and who delights to + utter it, and has the gift of doing so without cant and with not too much + seriousness.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Hiram Maxim wrote: “I give you my candid opinion that what you + have done is of very great value to the civilization of the world. There + is no man living whose words carry greater weight than your own, as no + one's writings are so eagerly sought after by all classes.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens himself in his note-book set down this aphorism: + </p> + <p> + “Do right and you will be conspicuous.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0224" id="link2H_4_0224"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXV. SUMMER AT “THE LAIR” + </h2> + <p> + In June Clemens took the family to Saranac Lake, to Ampersand. They + occupied a log cabin which he called “The Lair,” on the south + shore, near the water's edge, a remote and beautiful place where, as had + happened before, they were so comfortable and satisfied that they hoped to + return another summer. There were swimming and boating and long walks in + the woods; the worry and noise of the world were far away. They gave + little enough attention to the mails. They took only a weekly paper, and + were likely to allow it to lie in the postoffice uncalled for. Clemens, + especially, loved the place, and wrote to Twichell: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I am on the front porch (lower one-main deck) of our little bijou of + a dwelling-house. The lake edge (Lower Saranac) is so nearly under + me that I can't see the shore, but only the water, small-poxed with + rain splashes—for there is a heavy down pour. It is charmingly + like sitting snuggled up on a ship's deck with the stretching sea + all around but very much more satisfactory, for at sea a rainstorm + is depressing, while here of course the effect engendered is just a + deep sense of comfort & contentment. The heavy forest shuts us + solidly in on three sides—there are no neighbors. There are + beautiful little tan-colored impudent squirrels about. They take + tea 5 P.M. (not invited) at the table in the woods where Jean does + my typewriting, & one of them has been brave enough to sit upon + Jean's knee with his tail curved over his back & munch his food. + They come to dinner 7 P.M. on the front porch (not invited), but + Clara drives them away. It is an occupation which requires some + industry & attention to business. They all have the one name + —Blennerhasset, from Burr's friend—& none of them answers to it + except when hungry. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens could work at “The Lair,” often writing in shady + seclusions along the shore, and he finished there the two-part serial,—[ + Published in Harper's Magazine for January and February, 1902.]—“The + Double-Barrelled Detective Story,” intended originally as a + burlesque on Sherlock Holmes. It did not altogether fulfil its purpose, + and is hardly to be ranked as one of Mark Twain's successes. It contains, + however, one paragraph at least by which it is likely to be remembered, a + hoax—his last one—on the reader. It runs as follows: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It was a crisp and spicy morning in early October. The lilacs and + laburnums, lit with the glory-fires of autumn, hung burning and + flashing in the upper air, a fairy bridge provided by kind nature + for the wingless wild things that have their home in the tree-tops + and would visit together; the larch and the pomegranate flung their + purple and yellow flames in brilliant broad splashes along the + slanting sweep of woodland, the sensuous fragrance of innumerable + deciduous flowers rose upon the swooning atmosphere, far in the + empty sky a solitary oesophagus slept upon motionless wing; + everywhere brooded stillness, serenity, and the peace of God. +</pre> + <p> + The warm light and luxury of this paragraph are factitious. The careful + reader will, note that its various accessories are ridiculously + associated, and only the most careless reader will accept the oesophagus + as a bird. But it disturbed a great many admirers, and numerous letters of + inquiry came wanting to know what it was all about. Some suspected the + joke and taunted him with it; one such correspondent wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MY DEAR MARK TWAIN,—Reading your “Double-Barrelled Detective Story” + in the January Harper's late one night I came to the paragraph where + you so beautifully describe “a crisp and spicy morning in early + October.” I read along down the paragraph, conscious only of its + woozy sound, until I brought up with a start against your oesophagus + in the empty sky. Then I read the paragraph again. Oh, Mark Twain! + Mark Twain! How could you do it? Put a trap like that into the + midst of a tragical story? Do serenity and peace brood over you + after you have done such a thing? + + Who lit the lilacs, and which end up do they hang? When did larches + begin to flame, and who set out the pomegranates in that canyon? + What are deciduous flowers, and do they always “bloom in the fall, + tra la”? + + I have been making myself obnoxious to various people by demanding + their opinion of that paragraph without telling them the name of the + author. They say, “Very well done.” “The alliteration is so + pretty.” “What's an oesophagus, a bird?” “What's it all mean, + anyway?” I tell them it means Mark Twain, and that an oesophagus is + a kind of swallow. Am I right? Or is it a gull? Or a gullet? + + Hereafter if you must write such things won't you please be so kind + as to label them? + Very sincerely yours, + ALLETTA F. DEAN. +</pre> + <p> + Mark Twain to Miss Dean: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Don't you give that oesophagus away again or I'll never trust you + with another privacy! +</pre> + <p> + So many wrote, that Clemens finally felt called upon to make public + confession, and as one searching letter had been mailed from Springfield, + Massachusetts, he made his reply through the Republican of that city. + After some opening comment he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I published a short story lately & it was in that that I put the + oesophagus. I will say privately that I expected it to bother some + people—in fact, that was the intention—but the harvest has been + larger than I was calculating upon. The oesophagus has gathered in + the guilty and the innocent alike, whereas I was only fishing for + the innocent—the innocent and confiding. +</pre> + <p> + He quoted a letter from a schoolmaster in the Philippines who thought the + passage beautiful with the exception of the curious creature which “slept + upon motionless wings.” Said Clemens: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Do you notice? Nothing in the paragraph disturbed him but that one + word. It shows that that paragraph was most ably constructed for + the deception it was intended to put upon the reader. It was my + intention that it should read plausibly, and it is now plain that it + does; it was my intention that it should be emotional and touching, + and you see yourself that it fetched this public instructor. Alas! + if I had but left that one treacherous word out I should have + scored, scored everywhere, and the paragraph would have slidden + through every reader's sensibilities like oil and left not a + suspicion behind. + + The other sample inquiry is from a professor in a New England + university. It contains one naughty word (which I cannot bear to + suppress), but he is not in the theological department, so it is no + harm: + + “DEAR MR. CLEMENS,—'Far in the empty sky a solitary oesophagus + slept upon motionless wing.' + + “It is not often I get a chance to read much periodical literature, + but I have just gone through at this belated period, with much + gratification and edification, your 'Double-Barrelled Detective + Story.' + + “But what in hell is an oesophagus? I keep one myself, but it never + sleeps in the air or anywhere else. My profession is to deal with + words, and oesophagus interested me the moment I lighted upon it. + But, as a companion of my youth used to say, 'I'll be eternally, + co-eternally cussed' if I can make it out. Is it a joke or am I an + ignoramus?” + + Between you and me, I was almost ashamed of having fooled that man, + but for pride's sake I was not going to say so. I wrote and told + him it was a joke—and that is what I am now saying to my + Springfield inquirer. And I told him to carefully read the whole + paragraph and he would find not a vestige of sense in any detail of + it. This also I recommend to my Springfield inquirer. + + I have confessed. I am sorry—partially. I will not do so any + more—for the present. Don't ask me any more questions; let the + oesophagus have a rest—on his same old motionless wing. +</pre> + <p> + He wrote Twichell that the story had been a six-day 'tour de force', + twenty-five thousand words, and he adds: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + How long it takes a literary seed to sprout sometimes! This seed was + planted in your house many years ago when you sent me to bed with a + book not heard of by me until then—Sherlock Holmes.... + I've done a grist of writing here this summer, but not for + publication soon, if ever. I did write two satisfactory articles + for early print, but I've burned one of them & have buried the other + in my large box of posthumous stuff. I've got stacks of literary + remains piled up there. +</pre> + <p> + Early in August Clemens went with H. H. Rogers in his yacht Kanawha on a + cruise to New Brunswick and Nova Scotia. Rogers had made up a party, + including ex-Speaker Reed, Dr. Rice, and Col. A. G. Paine. Young Harry + Rogers also made one of the party. Clemens kept a log of the cruise, + certain entries of which convey something of its spirit. On the 11th, at + Yarmouth, he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Fog-bound. The garrison went ashore. Officers visited the yacht in + the evening & said an anvil had been missed. Mr. Rogers paid for + the anvil. + + August 13th. There is a fine picture-gallery here; the sheriff + photographed the garrison, with the exception of Harry (Rogers) and + Mr. Clemens. + + August 14th. Upon complaint of Mr. Reed another dog was procured. + He said he had been a sailor all his life, and considered it + dangerous to trust a ship to a dog-watch with only one dog in it. + + Poker, for a change. + + August 15th. To Rockland, Maine, in the afternoon, arriving about 6 + P.M. In the night Dr. Rice baited the anchor with his winnings & + caught a whale 90 feet long. He said so himself. It is thought + that if there had been another witness like Dr. Rice the whale would + have been longer. + + August 16th. We could have had a happy time in Bath but for the + interruptions caused by people who wanted Mr. Reed to explain votes + of the olden time or give back the money. Mr. Rogers recouped them. + + Another anvil missed. The descendant of Captain Kidd is the only + person who does not blush for these incidents. Harry and Mr. + Clemens blush continually. It is believed that if the rest of the + garrison were like these two the yacht would be welcome everywhere + instead of being quarantined by the police in all the ports. Mr. + Clemens & Harry have attracted a great deal of attention, & men have + expressed a resolve to turn over a new leaf & copy after them from + this out. + + Evening. Judge Cohen came over from another yacht to pay his + respects to Harry and Mr. Clemens, he having heard of their + reputation from the clergy of these coasts. He was invited by the + gang to play poker apparently as a courtesy & in a spirit of seeming + hospitality, he not knowing them & taking it all at par. Mr. Rogers + lent him clothes to go home in. + + August 17th. The Reformed Statesman growling and complaining again + —not in a frank, straightforward way, but talking at the Commodore, + while letting on to be talking to himself. This time he was + dissatisfied about the anchor watch; said it was out of date, + untrustworthy, & for real efficiency didn't begin with the + Waterbury, & was going on to reiterate, as usual, that he had been a + pilot all his life & blamed if he ever saw, etc., etc., etc. + + But he was not allowed to finish. We put him ashore at Portland. +</pre> + <p> + That is to say, Reed landed at Portland, the rest of the party returning + with the yacht. + </p> + <p> + “We had a noble good time in the yacht,” Clemens wrote + Twichell on their return. “We caught a Chinee missionary and drowned + him.” + </p> + <p> + Twichell had been invited to make one of the party, and this letter was to + make him feel sorry he had not accepted. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0225" id="link2H_4_0225"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXVI. RIVERDALE—A YALE DEGREE + </h2> + <p> + The Clemens household did not return to 14 West Tenth Street. They spent a + week in Elmira at the end of September, and after a brief stop in New York + took up their residence on the northern metropolitan boundary, at + Riverdale-on-the-Hudson, in the old Appleton home. They had permanently + concluded not to return to Hartford. They had put the property there into + an agent's hands for sale. Mrs. Clemens never felt that she had the + strength to enter the house again. + </p> + <p> + They had selected the Riverdale place with due consideration. They decided + that they must have easy access to the New York center, but they wished + also to have the advantage of space and spreading lawn and trees, large + rooms, and light. The Appleton homestead provided these things. It was a + house built in the first third of the last century by one of the Morris + family, so long prominent in New York history. On passing into the + Appleton ownership it had been enlarged and beautified and named “Holbrook + Hall.” It overlooked the Hudson and the Palisades. It had + associations: the Roosevelt family had once lived there, Huxley, Darwin, + Tyndall, and others of their intellectual rank had been entertained there + during its occupation by the first Appleton, the founder of the publishing + firm. The great hall of the added wing was its chief feature. Clemens once + remembered: + </p> + <p> + “We drifted from room to room on our tour of inspection, always with + a growing doubt as to whether we wanted that house or not; but at last, + when we arrived in a dining-room that was 60 feet long, 30 feet wide, and + had two great fireplaces in it, that settled it.” + </p> + <p> + There were pleasant neighbors at Riverdale, and had it not been for the + illnesses that seemed always ready to seize upon that household the home + there might have been ideal. They loved the place presently, so much so + that they contemplated buying it, but decided that it was too costly. They + began to prospect for other places along the Hudson shore. They were + anxious to have a home again—one that they could call their own. + </p> + <p> + Among the many pleasant neighbors at Riverdale were the Dodges, the Quincy + Adamses, and the Rev. Mr. Carstensen, a liberal-minded minister with whom + Clemens easily affiliated. Clemens and Carstensen visited back and forth + and exchanged views. Once Mr. Carstensen told him that he was going to + town to dine with a party which included the Reverend Gottheil, a Catholic + bishop, an Indian Buddhist, and a Chinese scholar of the Confucian faith, + after which they were all going to a Yiddish theater. Clemens said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, there's only one more thing you need to make the party + complete—that is, either Satan or me.” + </p> + <p> + Howells often came to Riverdale. He was living in a New York apartment, + and it was handy and made an easy and pleasant outing for him. He says: + </p> + <p> + “I began to see them again on something like the sweet old terms. + They lived far more unpretentiously than they used, and I think with a + notion of economy, which they had never very successfully practised. I + recall that at the end of a certain year in Hartford, when they had been + saving and paying cash for everything, Clemens wrote, reminding me of + their avowed experiment, and asking me to guess how many bills they had at + New-Year's; he hastened to say that a horse-car would not have held them. + At Riverdale they kept no carriage, and there was a snowy night when I + drove up to their handsome old mansion in the station carryall, which was + crusted with mud, as from the going down of the Deluge after transporting + Noah and his family from the Ark to whatever point they decided to settle + provisionally. But the good talk, the rich talk, the talk that could never + suffer poverty of mind or soul was there, and we jubilantly found + ourselves again in our middle youth.” + </p> + <p> + Both Howells and Clemens were made doctors of letters by Yale that year + and went over in October to receive their degrees. It was Mark Twain's + second Yale degree, and it was the highest rank that an American + institution of learning could confer. + </p> + <p> + Twichell wrote: + </p> + <p> + I want you to understand, old fellow, that it will be in its intention the + highest public compliment, and emphatically so in your case, for it will + be tendered you by a corporation of gentlemen, the majority of whom do not + at all agree with the views on important questions which you have lately + promulgated in speech and in writing, and with which you are identified to + the public mind. They grant, of course, your right to hold and express + those views, though for themselves they don't like 'em; but in awarding + you the proposed laurel they will make no count of that whatever. Their + action will appropriately signify simply and solely their estimate of your + merit and rank as a man of letters, and so, as I say, the compliment of it + will be of the pure, unadulterated quality. + </p> + <p> + Howells was not especially eager to go, and tried to conspire with Clemens + to arrange some excuse which would keep them at home. + </p> + <p> + I remember with satisfaction [he wrote] our joint success in keeping away + from the Concord Centennial in 1875, and I have been thinking we might + help each other in this matter of the Yale Anniversary. What are your + plans for getting left, or shall you trust to inspiration? + </p> + <p> + Their plans did not avail. Both Howells and Clemens went to New Haven to + receive their honors. + </p> + <p> + When they had returned, Howells wrote formally, as became the new rank: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR SIR,—I have long been an admirer of your complete works, + several of which I have read, and I am with you shoulder to shoulder + in the cause of foreign missions. I would respectfully request a + personal interview, and if you will appoint some day and hour most + inconvenient to you I will call at your baronial hall. I cannot + doubt, from the account of your courtesy given me by the Twelve + Apostles, who once visited you in your Hartford home and were + mistaken for a syndicate of lightning-rod men, that our meeting will + be mutually agreeable. + + Yours truly, + W. D. HOWELLS. + DR. CLEMENS. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0226" id="link2H_4_0226"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXVII. MARK TWAIN IN POLITICS + </h2> + <p> + There was a campaign for the mayoralty of New York City that fall, with + Seth Low on the Fusion ticket against Edward M. Shepard as the Tammany + candidate. Mark Twain entered the arena to try to defeat Tammany Hall. He + wrote and he spoke in favor of clean city government and police reform. He + was savagely in earnest and openly denounced the clan of Croker, + individually and collectively. He joined a society called 'The Acorns'; + and on the 17th of October, at a dinner given by the order at the + Waldorf-Astoria, delivered a fierce arraignment, in which he characterized + Croker as the Warren Hastings of New York. His speech was really a set of + extracts from Edmund Burke's great impeachment of Hastings, substituting + always the name of Croker, and paralleling his career with that of the + ancient boss of the East India Company. + </p> + <p> + It was not a humorous speech. It was too denunciatory for that. It + probably contained less comic phrasing than any former effort. There is + hardly even a suggestion of humor from beginning to end. It concluded with + this paraphrase of Burke's impeachment: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I impeach Richard Croker of high crimes and misdemeanors. I impeach + him in the name of the people, whose trust he has betrayed. + + I impeach him in the name of all the people of America, whose + national character he has dishonored. + + I impeach him in the name and by virtue of those eternal laws of + justice which he has violated. + + I impeach him in the name of human nature itself, which he has + cruelly outraged, injured, and oppressed, in both sexes, in every + age, rank, situation, and condition of life. +</pre> + <p> + The Acorn speech was greatly relied upon for damage to the Tammany ranks, + and hundreds of thousands of copies of it were printed and circulated.—[The + “Edmund Burke on Croker and Tammany” speech had originally + been written as an article for the North American Review.] + </p> + <p> + Clemens was really heart and soul in the campaign. He even joined a + procession that marched up Broadway, and he made a speech to a great + assemblage at Broadway and Leonard Street, when, as he said, he had been + sick abed two days and, according to the doctor, should be in bed then. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + But I would not stay at home for a nursery disease, and that's what + I've got. Now, don't let this leak out all over town, but I've been + doing some indiscreet eating—that's all. It wasn't drinking. If + it had been I shouldn't have said anything about it. + + I ate a banana. I bought it just to clinch the Italian vote for + fusion, but I got hold of a Tammany banana by mistake. Just one + little nub of it on the end was nice and white. That was the + Shepard end. The other nine-tenths were rotten. Now that little + white end won't make the rest of the banana good. The nine-tenths + will make that little nub rotten, too. + + We must get rid of the whole banana, and our Acorn Society is going + to do its share, for it is pledged to nothing but the support of + good government all over the United States. We will elect the + President next time. + + It won't be I, for I have ruined my chances by joining the Acorns, + and there can be no office-holders among us. +</pre> + <p> + There was a movement which Clemens early nipped in the bud—to name a + political party after him. + </p> + <p> + “I should be far from willing to have a political party named after + me,” he wrote, “and I would not be willing to belong to a + party which allowed its members to have political aspirations or push + friends forward for political preferment.” + </p> + <p> + In other words, he was a knight-errant; his sole purpose for being in + politics at all—something he always detested—was to do what he + could for the betterment of his people. + </p> + <p> + He had his reward, for when Election Day came, and the returns were in, + the Fusion ticket had triumphed and Tammany had fallen. Clemens received + his share of the credit. One paper celebrated him in verse: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Who killed Croker? + I, said Mark Twain, + I killed Croker, + I, the jolly joker! +</pre> + <p> + Among Samuel Clemens's literary remains there is an outline plan for a + “Casting-Vote party,” whose main object was “to compel + the two great parties to nominate their best man always.” It was to + be an organization of an infinite number of clubs throughout the nation, + no member of which should seek or accept a nomination for office in any + political appointment, but in each case should cast its vote as a unit for + the candidate of one of the two great political parties, requiring that + the man be of clean record and honest purpose. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + From constable up to President [runs his final clause] there is no + office for which the two great parties cannot furnish able, clean, + and acceptable men. Whenever the balance of power shall be lodged + in a permanent third party, with no candidate of its own and no + function but to cast its whole vote for the best man put forward by + the Republicans and Democrats, these two parties will select the + best man they have in their ranks. Good and clean government will + follow, let its party complexion be what it may, and the country + will be quite content. +</pre> + <p> + It was a Utopian idea, very likely, as human nature is made; full of that + native optimism which was always overflowing and drowning his gloomier + logic. Clearly he forgot his despair of humanity when he formulated that + document, and there is a world of unselfish hope in these closing lines: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + If in the hands of men who regard their citizenship as a high trust + this scheme shall fail upon trial a better must be sought, a better + must be invented; for it cannot be well or safe to let the present + political conditions continue indefinitely. They can be improved, + and American citizenship should arouse up from its disheartenment + and see that it is done. +</pre> + <p> + Had this document been put into type and circulated it might have founded + a true Mark Twain party. + </p> + <p> + Clemens made not many more speeches that autumn, closing the year at last + with the “Founder's Night” speech at The Players, the short + address which, ending on the stroke of midnight, dedicates each passing + year to the memory of Edwin Booth, and pledges each new year in a + loving-cup passed in his honor. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0227" id="link2H_4_0227"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXVIII. NEW INTERESTS AND INVESTMENTS + </h2> + <p> + The spirit which a year earlier had prompted Mark Twain to prepare his + “Salutation from the Nineteenth to the Twentieth Century” + inspired him now to conceive the “Stupendous International + Procession,” a gruesome pageant described in a document + (unpublished) of twenty-two typewritten pages which begin: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THE STUPENDOUS PROCESSION + + At the appointed hour it moved across the world in following order: + + The Twentieth Century + + A fair young creature, drunk and disorderly, borne in the arms of + Satan. Banner with motto, “Get What You Can, Keep What You Get.” + + Guard of Honor—Monarchs, Presidents, Tammany Bosses, Burglars, Land + Thieves, Convicts, etc., appropriately clothed and bearing the + symbols of their several trades. + + Christendom + + A majestic matron in flowing robes drenched with blood. On her head + a golden crown of thorns; impaled on its spines the bleeding heads + of patriots who died for their countries Boers, Boxers, Filipinos; + in one hand a slung-shot, in the other a Bible, open at the text “Do + unto others,” etc. Protruding from pocket bottle labeled “We bring + you the blessings of civilization.” Necklace-handcuffs and a + burglar's jimmy. + Supporters—At one elbow Slaughter, at the other Hypocrisy. + Banner with motto—“Love Your Neighbor's Goods as Yourself.” + Ensign—The Black Flag. + Guard of Honor—Missionaries and German, French, Russian, and + British soldiers laden with loot. +</pre> + <p> + And so on, with a section for each nation of the earth, headed each by the + black flag, each bearing horrid emblems, instruments of torture, mutilated + prisoners, broken hearts, floats piled with bloody corpses. At the end of + all, banners inscribed: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “All White Men are Born Free and Equal.” + + “Christ died to make men holy, + Christ died to make men free.” + </pre> + <p> + with the American flag furled and draped in crepe, and the shade of + Lincoln towering vast and dim toward the sky, brooding with sorrowful + aspect over the far-reaching pageant. With much more of the same sort. It + is a fearful document, too fearful, we may believe, for Mrs. Clemens ever + to consent to its publication. + </p> + <p> + Advancing years did little toward destroying Mark Twain's interest in + human affairs. At no time in his life was he more variously concerned and + employed than in his sixty-seventh year—matters social, literary, + political, religious, financial, scientific. He was always alive, young, + actively cultivating or devising interests—valuable and otherwise, + though never less than important to him. + </p> + <p> + He had plenty of money again, for one thing, and he liked to find + dazzlingly new ways for investing it. As in the old days, he was always + putting “twenty-five or forty thousand dollars,” as he said, + into something that promised multiplied returns. Howells tells how he + found him looking wonderfully well, and when he asked the name of his + elixir he learned that it was plasmon. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I did not immediately understand that plasmon was one of the + investments which he had made from “the substance of things hoped + for,” and in the destiny of a disastrous disappointment. But after + paying off the creditors of his late publishing firm he had to do + something with his money, and it was not his fault if he did not + make a fortune out of plasmon. +</pre> + <p> + It was just at this period (the beginning of 1902) that he was promoting + with his capital and enthusiasm the plasmon interests in America, + investing in it one of the “usual amounts,” promising to make + Howells over again body and soul with the life-giving albuminate. Once he + wrote him explicit instructions: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yes—take it as a medicine—there is nothing better, nothing surer + of desired results. If you wish to be elaborate—which isn't + necessary—put a couple of heaping teaspoonfuls of the powder in an + inch of milk & stir until it is a paste; put in some more milk and + stir the paste to a thin gruel; then fill up the glass and drink. + + Or, stir it into your soup. + + Or, into your oatmeal. + + Or, use any method you like, so's you get it down—that is the only + essential. +</pre> + <p> + He put another “usual sum” about this time in a patent cash + register which was acknowledged to be “a promise rather than a + performance,” and remains so until this day. + </p> + <p> + He capitalized a patent spiral hat-pin, warranted to hold the hat on in + any weather, and he had a number of the pins handsomely made to present to + visitors of the sex naturally requiring that sort of adornment and + protection. It was a pretty and ingenious device and apparently effective + enough, though it failed to secure his invested thousands. + </p> + <p> + He invested a lesser sum in shares of the Booklover's Library, which was + going to revolutionize the reading world, and which at least paid a few + dividends. Even the old Tennessee land will-o'-the-wisp-long since + repudiated and forgotten—when it appeared again in the form of a + possible equity in some overlooked fragment, kindled a gentle interest, + and was added to his list of ventures. + </p> + <p> + He made one substantial investment at this period. They became more and + more in love with the Hudson environment, its beauty and its easy access + to New York. Their house was what they liked it to be—a gathering—place + for friends and the world's notables, who could reach it easily and + quickly from New York. They had a steady procession of company when Mrs. + Clemens's health would permit, and during a single week in the early part + of this year entertained guests at no less than seventeen out of their + twenty-one meals, and for three out of the seven nights—not an + unusual week. Their plan for buying a home on the Hudson ended with the + purchase of what was known as Hillcrest, or the Casey place, at Tarrytown, + overlooking that beautiful stretch of river, the Tappan Zee, close to the + Washington Irving home. The beauty of its outlook and surroundings + appealed to them all. The house was handsome and finely placed, and they + planned to make certain changes that would adapt it to their needs. The + price, which was less than fifty thousand dollars, made it an attractive + purchase; and without doubt it would have made them a suitable and happy + home had it been written in the future that they should so inherit it. + </p> + <p> + Clemens was writing pretty steadily these days. The human race was + furnishing him with ever so many inspiring subjects, and he found time to + touch more or less on most of them. He wreaked his indignation upon the + things which exasperated him often—even usually—without the + expectation of print; and he delivered himself even more inclusively at + such times as he walked the floor between the luncheon or dinner courses, + amplifying on the poverty of an invention that had produced mankind as a + supreme handiwork. In a letter to Howells he wrote: + </p> + <p> + Your comments on that idiot's “Ideals” letter reminds me that + I preached a good sermon to my family yesterday on his particular layer of + the human race, that grotesquest of all the inventions of the Creator. It + was a good sermon, but coldly received, & it seemed best not to try to + take up a collection. + </p> + <p> + He once told Howells, with the wild joy of his boyish heart, how Mrs. + Clemens found some compensation, when kept to her room by illness, in the + reflection that now she would not hear so much about the “damned + human race.” + </p> + <p> + Yet he was always the first man to champion that race, and the more + unpromising the specimen the surer it was of his protection, and he never + invited, never expected gratitude. + </p> + <p> + One wonders how he found time to do all the things that he did. Besides + his legitimate literary labors and his preachments, he was always writing + letters to this one and that, long letters on a variety of subjects, + carefully and picturesquely phrased, and to people of every sort. He even + formed a curious society, whose members were young girls—one in each + country of the earth. They were supposed to write to him at intervals on + some subject likely to be of mutual interest, to which letters he agreed + to reply. He furnished each member with a typewritten copy of the + constitution and by-laws of the juggernaut Club, as he called it, and he + apprised each of her election, usually after this fashion: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have a club—a private club, which is all my own. I appoint the + members myself, & they can't help themselves, because I don't allow + them to vote on their own appointment & I don't allow them to + resign! They are all friends whom I have never seen (save one), but + who have written friendly letters to me. By the laws of my club + there can be only one member in each country, & there can be no male + member but myself. Some day I may admit males, but I don't know + —they are capricious & inharmonious, & their ways provoke me a good + deal. It is a matter, which the club shall decide. I have made + four appointments in the past three or four months: You as a member + for Scotland—oh, this good while! a young citizeness of Joan of + Arc's home region as a member for France; a Mohammedan girl as + member for Bengal; & a dear & bright young niece of mine as member + for the United States—for I do not represent a country myself, but + am merely member-at-large for the human race. You must not try to + resign, for the laws of the club do not allow that. You must + console yourself by remembering that you are in the best company; + that nobody knows of your membership except yourself; that no member + knows another's name, but only her country; that no taxes are levied + and no meetings held (but how dearly I should like to attend one!). + One of my members is a princess of a royal house, another is the + daughter of a village bookseller on the continent of Europe, for the + only qualification for membership is intellect & the spirit of good- + will; other distinctions, hereditary or acquired, do not count. May + I send you the constitution & laws of the club? I shall be so glad + if I may. +</pre> + <p> + It was just one of his many fancies, and most of the active memberships + would not long be maintained; though some continued faithful in their + reports, as he did in his replies, to the end. + </p> + <p> + One of the more fantastic of his conceptions was a plan to advertise for + ante-mortem obituaries of himself—in order, as he said, that he + might look them over and enjoy them and make certain corrections in the + matter of detail. Some of them he thought might be appropriate to read + from the platform. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I will correct them—not the facts, but the verdicts—striking out + such clauses as could have a deleterious influence on the other + side, and replacing them with clauses of a more judicious character. +</pre> + <p> + He was much taken with the new idea, and his request for such obituaries, + with an offer of a prize for the best—a portrait of himself drawn by + his own hand—really appeared in Harper's Weekly later in the year. + Naturally he got a shower of responses—serious, playful, burlesque. + Some of them were quite worth while. + </p> + <p> + The obvious “Death loves a shining Mark” was of course + numerously duplicated, and some varied it “Death loves an Easy Mark,” + and there was “Mark, the perfect man.” + </p> + <p> + The two that follow gave him especial pleasure. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + OBITUARY FOR “MARK TWAIN” + + Worthy of his portrait, a place on his monument, as well as a place + among his “perennial-consolation heirlooms”: + + “Got up; washed; went to bed.” + + The subject's own words (see Innocents Abroad). Can't go back on + your own words, Mark Twain. There's nothing “to strike out”; + nothing “to replace.” What more could be said of any one? + + “Got up!”—Think of the fullness of meaning! The possibilities of + life, its achievements—physical, intellectual, spiritual. Got up + to the top!—the climax of human aspiration on earth! + + “Washed”—Every whit clean; purified—body, soul, thoughts, + purposes. + + “Went to bed”—Work all done—to rest, to sleep. The culmination of + the day well spent! + + God looks after the awakening. + + Mrs. S. A. OREN-HAYNES. + + Mark Twain was the only man who ever lived, so far as we know, whose + lies were so innocent, and withal so helpful, as to make them worth + more than a whole lot of fossilized priests' eternal truths. + + D. H. KENNER. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0228" id="link2H_4_0228"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXIX. YACHTING AND THEOLOGY + </h2> + <p> + Clemens made fewer speeches during the Riverdale period. He was as + frequently demanded, but he had a better excuse for refusing, especially + the evening functions. He attended a good many luncheons with friendly + spirits like Howells, Matthews, James L. Ford, and Hamlin Garland. At the + end of February he came down to the Mayor's dinner given to Prince Henry + of Prussia, but he did not speak. Clemens used to say afterward that he + had not been asked to speak, and that it was probably because of his + supposed breach of etiquette at the Kaiser's dinner in Berlin; but the + fact that Prince Henry sought him out, and was most cordially and humanly + attentive during a considerable portion of the evening, is against the + supposition. + </p> + <p> + Clemens attended a Yale alumni dinner that winter and incidentally visited + Twichell in Hartford. The old question of moral responsibility came up and + Twichell lent his visitor a copy of Jonathan Edwards's 'Freedom of the + Will' for train perusal. Clemens found it absorbing. Later he wrote + Twichell his views. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR JOE,—(After compliments.)—[Meaning “What a good time you gave + me; what a happiness it was to be under your roof again,” etc. See + opening sentence of all translations of letters passing between Lord + Roberts and Indian princes and rulers.]—From Bridgeport to New + York, thence to home, & continuously until near midnight I wallowed + & reeked with Jonathan in his insane debauch; rose immensely + refreshed & fine at ten this morning, but with a strange & haunting + sense of having been on a three days' tear with a drunken lunatic. + It is years since I have known these sensations. All through the + book is the glare of a resplendent intellect gone mad—a marvelous + spectacle. No, not all through the book—the drunk does not come + on till the last third, where what I take to be Calvinism & its God + begins to show up & shine red & hideous in the glow from the fires + of hell, their only right and proper adornment. + + Jonathan seems to hold (as against the Armenian position) that the + man (or his soul or his will) never creates an impulse itself, but + is moved to action by an impulse back of it. That's sound! + + Also, that of two or more things offered it, it infallibly chooses + the one which for the moment is most pleasing to ITSELF. Perfectly + correct! An immense admission for a man not otherwise sane. + + Up to that point he could have written Chapters III & IV of my + suppressed Gospel. But there we seem to separate. He seems to + concede the indisputable & unshaken dominion of Motive & Necessity + (call them what he may, these are exterior forces & not under the + man's authority, guidance, or even suggestion); then he suddenly + flies the logical track & (to all seeming) makes the man & not those + exterior forces responsible to God for the man's thoughts, words, & + acts. It is frank insanity. + + I think that when he concedes the autocratic dominion of Motive and + Necessity he grants a third position of mine—that a man's mind is a + mere machine—an automatic machine—which is handled entirely from + the outside, the man himself furnishing it absolutely nothing; not + an ounce of its fuel, & not so much as a bare suggestion to that + exterior engineer as to what the machine shall do nor how it shall + do it nor when. + + After that concession it was time for him to get alarmed & shirk + —for he was pointed straight for the only rational & possible next + station on that piece of road—the irresponsibility of man to God. + + And so he shirked. Shirked, and arrived at this handsome result: + + Man is commanded to do so & so. + + It has been ordained from the beginning of time that some men + sha'n't & others can't. + + These are to blame: let them be damned. + + I enjoy the Colonel very much, & shall enjoy the rest of him with an + obscene delight. + + Joe, the whole tribe shout love to you & yours! + MARK. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens was moved to set down some theology of his own, and did so in a + manuscript which he entitled, “If I Could Be There.” It is in + the dialogue form he often adopted for polemic writing. It is a colloquy + between the Master of the Universe and a Stranger. It begins: I. If I + could be there, hidden under the steps of the throne, I should hear + conversations like this: + </p> + <p> + A STRANGER. Lord, there is one who needs to be punished, and has been + overlooked. It is in the record. I have found it. + </p> + <p> + LORD. By searching? + </p> + <p> + S. Yes, Lord. + </p> + <p> + L. Who is it? What is it? + </p> + <p> + S. A man. + </p> + <p> + L. Proceed. + </p> + <p> + S. He died in sin. Sin committed by his great-grandfather. + </p> + <p> + L. When was this? + </p> + <p> + S. Eleven million years ago. + </p> + <p> + L. Do you know what a microbe is? + </p> + <p> + S. Yes, Lord. It is a creature too small to be detected by my eye. + </p> + <p> + L. He commits depredations upon your blood? + </p> + <p> + S. Yes, Lord. + </p> + <p> + L. I give you leave to subject him to a billion years of misery for this + offense. Go! Work your will upon him. + </p> + <p> + S. But, Lord, I have nothing against him; I am indifferent to him. + </p> + <p> + L. Why? + </p> + <p> + S. He is so infinitely small and contemptible. I am to him as is a + mountain-range to a grain of sand. + </p> + <p> + L. What am I to man? + </p> + <p> + S. (Silent.) + </p> + <p> + L. Am I not, to a man, as is a billion solar systems to a grain of sand? + </p> + <p> + S. It is true, Lord. + </p> + <p> + L. Some microbes are larger than others. Does man regard the difference? + </p> + <p> + S. No, Lord. To him there is no difference of consequence. To him they are + all microbes, all infinitely little and equally inconsequential. + </p> + <p> + L. To me there is no difference of consequence between a man & a + microbe. Man looks down upon the speck at his feet called a microbe from + an altitude of a thousand miles, so to speak, and regards him with + indifference; I look down upon the specks called a man and a microbe from + an altitude of a billion leagues, so to speak, and to me they are of a + size. To me both are inconsequential. Man kills the microbes when he can? + </p> + <p> + S. Yes, Lord. + </p> + <p> + L. Then what? Does he keep him in mind years and years and go on + contriving miseries for him? + </p> + <p> + S. No, Lord. + </p> + <p> + L. Does he forget him? + </p> + <p> + S. Yes, Lord. + </p> + <p> + L. Why? + </p> + <p> + S. He cares nothing more about him. + </p> + <p> + L. Employs himself with more important matters? + </p> + <p> + S. Yes, Lord. + </p> + <p> + L. Apparently man is quite a rational and dignified person, and can + divorce his mind from uninteresting trivialities. Why does he affront me + with the fancy that I interest Myself in trivialities—like men and + microbes? II. L. Is it true the human race thinks the universe was created + for its convenience? + </p> + <p> + S. Yes, Lord. + </p> + <p> + L. The human race is modest. Speaking as a member of it, what do you think + the other animals are for? + </p> + <p> + S. To furnish food and labor for man. + </p> + <p> + L. What is the sea for? + </p> + <p> + S. To furnish food for man. Fishes. + </p> + <p> + L. And the air? + </p> + <p> + S. To furnish sustenance for man. Birds and breath. + </p> + <p> + L. How many men are there? + </p> + <p> + S. Fifteen hundred millions. + </p> + <p> + L. (Referring to notes.) Take your pencil and set down some statistics. In + a healthy man's lower intestine 28,000,000 microbes are born daily and die + daily. In the rest of a man's body 122,000,000 microbes are born daily and + die daily. The two sums aggregate-what? + </p> + <p> + S. About 150,000,000. + </p> + <p> + L. In ten days the aggregate reaches what? + </p> + <p> + S. Fifteen hundred millions. + </p> + <p> + L. It is for one person. What would it be for the whole human population? + </p> + <p> + S. Alas, Lord, it is beyond the power of figures to set down that + multitude. It is billions of billions multiplied by billions of billions, + and these multiplied again and again by billions of billions. The figures + would stretch across the universe and hang over into space on both sides. + </p> + <p> + L. To what intent are these uncountable microbes introduced into the human + race? + </p> + <p> + S. That they may eat. + </p> + <p> + L. Now then, according to man's own reasoning, what is man for? + </p> + <p> + S. Alas-alas! + </p> + <p> + L. What is he for? + </p> + <p> + S. To-to-furnish food for microbes. + </p> + <p> + L. Manifestly. A child could see it. Now then, with this common-sense + light to aid your perceptions, what are the air, the land, and the ocean + for? + </p> + <p> + S. To furnish food for man so that he may nourish, support, and multiply + and replenish the microbes. + </p> + <p> + L. Manifestly. Does one build a boarding-house for the sake of the + boarding-house itself or for the sake of the boarders? + </p> + <p> + S. Certainly for the sake of the boarders. + </p> + <p> + L. Man's a boarding-house. + </p> + <p> + S. I perceive it, Lord. + </p> + <p> + L. He is a boarding-house. He was never intended for anything else. If he + had had less vanity and a clearer insight into the great truths that lie + embedded in statistics he would have found it out early. As concerns the + man who has gone unpunished eleven million years, is it your belief that + in life he did his duty by his microbes? + </p> + <p> + S. Undoubtedly, Lord. He could not help it. + </p> + <p> + L. Then why punish him? He had no other duty to perform. + </p> + <p> + Whatever else may be said of this kind of doctrine, it is at least + original and has a conclusive sound. Mark Twain had very little use for + orthodoxy and conservatism. When it was announced that Dr. Jacques Loeb, + of the University of California, had demonstrated the creation of life by + chemical agencies he was deeply interested. When a newspaper writer + commented that a “consensus of opinion among biologists” would + probably rate Dr. Loeb as a man of lively imagination rather than an + inerrant investigator of natural phenomena, he felt called to chaff the + consensus idea. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I wish I could be as young as that again. Although I seem so old + now I was once as young as that. I remember, as if it were but + thirty or forty years ago, how a paralyzing consensus of opinion + accumulated from experts a-setting around about brother experts who + had patiently and laboriously cold-chiseled their way into one or + another of nature's safe-deposit vaults and were reporting that they + had found something valuable was plenty for me. It settled it. + + But it isn't so now-no. Because in the drift of the years I by and + by found out that a Consensus examines a new thing with its feelings + rather oftener than with its mind. + + There was that primitive steam-engine-ages back, in Greek times: a + Consensus made fun of it. There was the Marquis of Worcester's + steam-engine 250 years ago: a Consensus made fun of it. There was + Fulton's steamboat of a century ago: a French Consensus, including + the great Napoleon, made fun of it. There was Priestley, with his + oxygen: a Consensus scoffed at him, mobbed him, burned him out, + banished him. While a Consensus was proving, by statistics and + things, that a steamship could not cross the Atlantic, a steamship + did it. +</pre> + <p> + And so on through a dozen pages or more of lively satire, ending with an + extract from Adam's Diary. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Then there was a Consensus about it. It was the very first one. It + sat six days and nights. It was then delivered of the verdict that + a world could not be made out of nothing; that such small things as + sun and moon and stars might, maybe, but it would take years and + years if there was considerable many of them. Then the Consensus + got up and looked out of the window, and there was the whole outfit, + spinning and sparkling in space! You never saw such a disappointed + lot. + ADAM. +</pre> + <p> + He was writing much at this time, mainly for his own amusement, though now + and then he offered one of his reflections for print. That beautiful fairy + tale, “The Five Boons of Life,” of which the most precious is + “Death,” was written at this period. Maeterlinck's lovely + story of the bee interested him; he wrote about that. Somebody proposed a + Martyrs' Day; he wrote a paper ridiculing the suggestion. In his + note-book, too, there is a memorandum for a love-story of the Quarternary + Epoch which would begin, “On a soft October afternoon 2,000,000 + years ago.” John Fiske's Discovery of America, Volume I, he said, + was to furnish the animals and scenery, civilization and conversation to + be the same as to-day; but apparently this idea was carried no further. He + ranged through every subject from protoplasm to infinity, exalting, + condemning, ridiculing, explaining; his brain was always busy—a + dynamo that rested neither night nor day. + </p> + <p> + In April Clemens received notice of another yachting trip on the Kanawha, + which this time would sail for the Bahama and West India islands. The + guests were to be about the same.—[The invited ones of the party + were Hon. T. B. Reed, A. G. Paine, Laurence Hutton, Dr. C. C. Rice, W. T. + Foote, and S. L. Clemens. “Owners of the yacht,” Mr. Rogers + called them, signing himself as “Their Guest.”] + </p> + <p> + He sent this telegram: + </p> + <p> + H. H. ROGERS, Fairhaven, Mass. + </p> + <p> + Can't get away this week. I have company here from tonight till middle of + next week. Will Kanawha be sailing after that & can I go as + Sunday-school superintendent at half rate? Answer and prepay. + </p> + <p> + DR. CLEMENS. + </p> + <p> + The sailing date was conveniently arranged and there followed a happy + cruise among those balmy islands. Mark Twain was particularly fond of + “Tom” Reed, who had been known as “Czar” Reed in + Congress, but was delightfully human in his personal life. They argued + politics a good deal, and Reed, with all his training and intimate + practical knowledge of the subject, confessed that he “couldn't + argue with a man like that.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you believe the things you say?” he asked once, in his + thin, falsetto voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Clemens. “Some of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you want to look out. If you go on this way, by and by you'll + get to believing nearly everything you say.” + </p> + <p> + Draw poker appears to have been their favorite diversion. Clemens in his + notes reports that off the coast of Florida Reed won twenty-three pots in + succession. It was said afterward that they made no stops at any harbor; + that when the chief officer approached the poker-table and told them they + were about to enter some important port he received peremptory orders to + “sail on and not interrupt the game.” This, however, may be + regarded as more or less founded on fiction. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0229" id="link2H_4_0229"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXX. MARK TWAIN AND THE PHILIPPINES + </h2> + <p> + Among the completed manuscripts of the early part of 1902 was a North + American Review article (published in April)—“Does the Race of + Man Love a Lord?”—a most interesting treatise on snobbery as a + universal weakness. There were also some papers on the Philippine + situation. In one of these Clemens wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We have bought some islands from a party who did not own them; with + real smartness and a good counterfeit of disinterested friendliness + we coaxed a confiding weak nation into a trap and closed it upon + them; we went back on an honored guest of the Stars and Stripes when + we had no further use for him and chased him to the mountains; we + are as indisputably in possession of a wide-spreading archipelago as + if it were our property; we have pacified some thousands of the + islanders and buried them; destroyed their fields; burned their + villages, and turned their widows and orphans out-of-doors; + furnished heartbreak by exile to some dozens of disagreeable + patriots; subjugated the remaining ten millions by Benevolent + Assimilation, which is the pious new name of the musket; we have + acquired property in the three hundred concubines and other slaves + of our business partner, the Sultan of Sulu, and hoisted our + protecting flag over that swag. + + And so, by these Providences of God—the phrase is the government's, + not mine—we are a World Power; and are glad and proud, and have a + back seat in the family. With tacks in it. At least we are letting + on to be glad and proud; it is the best way. Indeed, it is the only + way. We must maintain our dignity, for people are looking. We are + a World Power; we cannot get out of it now, and we must make the + best of it. +</pre> + <p> + And again he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I am not finding fault with this use of our flag, for in order not + to seem eccentric I have swung around now and joined the nation in + the conviction that nothing can sully a flag. I was not properly + reared, and had the illusion that a flag was a thing which must be + sacredly guarded against shameful uses and unclean contacts lest it + suffer pollution; and so when it was sent out to the Philippines to + float over a wanton war and a robbing expedition I supposed it was + polluted, and in an ignorant moment I said so. But I stand + corrected. I concede and acknowledge that it was only the + government that sent it on such an errand that was polluted. Let us + compromise on that. I am glad to have it that way. For our flag + could not well stand pollution, never having been used to it, but it + is different with the administration. +</pre> + <p> + But a much more conspicuous comment on the Philippine policy was the + so-called “Defense of General Funston” for what Funston + himself referred to as a “dirty Irish trick”; that is to say, + deception in the capture of Aguinaldo. Clemens, who found it hard enough + to reconcile himself to-any form of warfare, was especially bitter + concerning this particular campaign. The article appeared in the North + American Review for May, 1902, and stirred up a good deal of a storm. He + wrote much more on the subject—very much more—but it is still + unpublished. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0230" id="link2H_4_0230"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXXI. THE RETURN OF THE NATIVE + </h2> + <p> + One day in April, 1902, Samuel Clemens received the following letter from + the president of the University of Missouri: + </p> + <p> + MY DEAR MR. CLEMENS, Although you received the degree of doctor of + literature last fall from Yale, and have had other honors conferred upon + you by other great universities, we want to adopt you here as a son of the + University of Missouri. In asking your permission to confer upon you the + degree of LL.D. the University of Missouri does not aim to confer an honor + upon you so much as to show her appreciation of you. The rules of the + University forbid us to confer the degree upon any one in absentia. I hope + very much that you can so arrange your plans as to be with us on the + fourth day of next June, when we shall hold our Annual Commencement. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Very truly yours, + R. H. JESSE. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens had not expected to make another trip to the West, but a proffered + honor such as this from one's native State was not a thing to be declined. + </p> + <p> + It was at the end of May when he arrived in St. Louis, and he was met at + the train there by his old river instructor and friend, Horace Bixby—as + fresh, wiry, and capable as he had been forty-five years before. + </p> + <p> + “I have become an old man. You are still thirty-five,” Clemens + said. + </p> + <p> + They went to the Planters Hotel, and the news presently got around that + Mark Twain was there. There followed a sort of reception in the hotel + lobby, after which Bixby took him across to the rooms of the Pilots + Association, where the rivermen gathered in force to celebrate his return. + A few of his old comrades were still alive, among them Beck Jolly. The + same afternoon he took the train for Hannibal. + </p> + <p> + It was a busy five days that he had in Hannibal. High-school commencement + day came first. He attended, and willingly, or at least patiently, sat + through the various recitals and orations and orchestrations, dreaming and + remembering, no doubt, other high-school commencements of more than half a + century before, seeing in some of those young people the boys and girls he + had known in that vanished time. A few friends of his youth were still + there, but they were among the audience now, and no longer fresh and + looking into the future. Their heads were white, and, like him, they were + looking down the recorded years. Laura Hawkins was there and Helen + Kercheval (Mrs. Frazer and Mrs. Garth now), and there were others, but + they were few and scattering. + </p> + <p> + He was added to the program, and he made himself as one of the graduates, + and told them some things of the young people of that earlier time that + brought their laughter and their tears. + </p> + <p> + He was asked to distribute the diplomas, and he undertook the work in his + own way. He took an armful of them and said to the graduates: + </p> + <p> + “Take one. Pick out a good one. Don't take two, but be sure you get + a good one.” + </p> + <p> + So each took one “unsight and unseen” aid made the more exact + distributions among themselves later. + </p> + <p> + Next morning it was Saturday—he visited the old home on Hill Street, + and stood in the doorway all dressed in white while a battalion of + photographers made pictures of “this return of the native” to + the threshold of his youth. + </p> + <p> + “It all seems so small to me,” he said, as he looked through + the house; “a boy's home is a big place to him. I suppose if I + should come back again ten years from now it would be the size of a + birdhouse.” + </p> + <p> + He went through the rooms and up-stairs where he had slept and looked out + the window down in the back yard where, nearly sixty years before, Tom + Sawyer, Huck Finn, Joe Harper, and the rest—that is to say, Tom + Blankenship, John Briggs, Will Pitts, and the Bowen boys—set out on + their nightly escapades. Of that lightsome band Will Pitts and John Briggs + still remained, with half a dozen others—schoolmates of the less + adventurous sort. Buck Brown, who had been his rival in the spelling + contests, was still there, and John Robards, who had worn golden curls and + the medal for good conduct, and Ed Pierce. And while these were assembled + in a little group on the pavement outside the home a small old man came up + and put out his hand, and it was Jimmy MacDaniel, to whom so long before, + sitting on the river-bank and eating gingerbread, he had first told the + story of Jim Wolfe and the cats. + </p> + <p> + They put him into a carriage, drove him far and wide, and showed the hills + and resorts and rendezvous of Tom Sawyer and his marauding band. + </p> + <p> + He was entertained that evening by the Labinnah Club (whose name was + achieved by a backward spelling of Hannibal), where he found most of the + survivors of his youth. The news report of that occasion states that he + was introduced by Father McLoughlin, and that he “responded in a + very humorous and touchingly pathetic way, breaking down in tears at the + conclusion. Commenting on his boyhood days and referring to his mother was + too much for the great humorist. Before him as he spoke were sitting seven + of his boyhood friends.” + </p> + <p> + On Sunday morning Col. John Robards escorted him to the various churches + and Sunday-schools. They were all new churches to Samuel Clemens, but he + pretended not to recognize this fact. In each one he was asked to speak a + few words, and he began by saying how good it was to be back in the old + home Sunday-school again, which as a boy he had always so loved, and he + would go on and point out the very place he had sat, and his escort hardly + knew whether or not to enjoy the proceedings. At one place he told a moral + story. He said: + </p> + <p> + Little boys and girls, I want to tell you a story which illustrates the + value of perseverance—of sticking to your work, as it were. It is a + story very proper for a Sunday-school. When I was a little boy in Hannibal + I used to play a good deal up here on Holliday's Hill, which of course you + all know. John Briggs and I played up there. I don't suppose there are any + little boys as good as we were then, but of course that is not to be + expected. Little boys in those days were 'most always good little boys, + because those were the good old times when everything was better than it + is now, but never mind that. Well, once upon a time, on Holliday's Hill, + they were blasting out rock, and a man was drilling for a blast. He sat + there and drilled and drilled and drilled perseveringly until he had a + hole down deep enough for the blast. Then he put in the powder and tamped + and tamped it down, but maybe he tamped it a little too hard, for the + blast went off and he went up into the air, and we watched him. He went up + higher and higher and got smaller and smaller. First he looked as big as a + child, then as big as a dog, then as big as a kitten, then as big as a + bird, and finally he went out of sight. John Briggs was with me, and we + watched the place where he went out of sight, and by and by we saw him + coming down first as big as a bird, then as big as a kitten, then as big + as a dog, then as big as a child, and then he was a man again, and landed + right in his seat and went to drilling just persevering, you see, and + sticking to his work. Little boys and girls, that's the secret of success, + just like that poor but honest workman on Holliday's Hill. Of course you + won't always be appreciated. He wasn't. His employer was a hard man, and + on Saturday night when he paid him he docked him fifteen minutes for the + time he was up in the air—but never mind, he had his reward. + </p> + <p> + He told all this in his solemn, grave way, though the Sunday-school was in + a storm of enjoyment when he finished. There still remains a doubt in + Hannibal as to its perfect suitability, but there is no doubt as to its + acceptability. + </p> + <p> + That Sunday afternoon, with John Briggs, he walked over Holliday's Hill—the + Cardiff Hill of Tom Sawyer. It was jest such a Sunday as that one when + they had so nearly demolished the negro driver and had damaged a + cooper-shop. They calculated that nearly three thousand Sundays had passed + since then, and now here they were once more, two old men with the hills + still fresh and green, the river still sweeping by and rippling in the + sun. Standing there together and looking across to the low-lying Illinois + shore, and to the green islands where they had played, and to Lover's Leap + on the south, the man who had been Sam Clemens said: + </p> + <p> + “John, that is one of the loveliest sights I ever saw. Down there by + the island is the place we used to swim, and yonder is where a man was + drowned, and there's where the steamboat sank. Down there on Lover's Leap + is where the Millerites put on their robes one night to go to heaven. None + of them went that night, but I suppose most of them have gone now.” + </p> + <p> + John Briggs said: + </p> + <p> + “Sam, do you remember the day we stole the peaches from old man + Price and one of his bow-legged niggers came after us with the dogs, and + how we made up our minds that we'd catch that nigger and drown him?” + </p> + <p> + They came to the place where they had pried out the great rock that had so + nearly brought them to grief. Sam Clemens said: + </p> + <p> + “John, if we had killed that man we'd have had a dead nigger on our + hands without a cent to pay for him.” + </p> + <p> + And so they talked on of this thing and that, and by and by they drove + along the river, and Sam Clemens pointed out the place where he swam it + and was taken with a cramp on the return swim, and believed for a while + that his career was about to close. + </p> + <p> + “Once, near the shore, I thought I would let down,” he said, + “but was afraid to, knowing that if the water was deep I was a + goner, but finally my knees struck the sand and I crawled out. That was + the closest call I ever had.” + </p> + <p> + They drove by the place where the haunted house had stood. They drank from + a well they had always known, and from the bucket as they had always + drunk, talking and always talking, fondling lovingly and lingeringly that + most beautiful of all our possessions, the past. + </p> + <p> + “Sam,” said John, when they parted, “this is probably + the last time we shall meet on this earth. God bless you. Perhaps + somewhere we shall renew our friendship.” + </p> + <p> + “John,” was the answer, “this day has been worth + thousands of dollars to me. We were like brothers once, and I feel that we + are the same now. Good-by, John. I'll try to meet you—somewhere.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0231" id="link2H_4_0231"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXXII. A PROPHET HONORED IN HIS COUNTRY + </h2> + <p> + Clemens left next day for Columbia. Committees met him at Rensselaer, + Monroe City, Clapper, Stoutsville, Paris, Madison, Moberly—at every + station along the line of his travel. At each place crowds were gathered + when the train pulled in, to cheer and wave and to present him with + flowers. Sometimes he spoke a few words; but oftener his eyes were full of + tears—his voice would not come. + </p> + <p> + There is something essentially dramatic in official recognition by one's + native State—the return of the lad who has set out unknown to battle + with life, and who, having conquered, is invited back to be crowned. No + other honor, however great and spectacular, is quite like that, for there + is in it a pathos and a completeness that are elemental and stir emotions + as old as life itself. + </p> + <p> + It was on the 4th of June, 1902, that Mark Twain received his doctor of + laws degree from the State University at Columbia, Missouri. James Wilson, + Secretary of Agriculture, and Ethan Allen Hitchcock, Secretary of the + Interior, were among those similarly honored. Mark Twain was naturally the + chief attraction. Dressed in his Yale scholastic gown he led the + procession of graduating students, and, as in Hannibal, awarded them their + diplomas. The regular exercises were made purposely brief in order that + some time might be allowed for the conferring of the degrees. This + ceremony was a peculiarly impressive one. Gardner Lathrop read a brief + statement introducing “America's foremost author and best-loved + citizen, Samuel Langhorne Clemens—Mark Twain.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens rose, stepped out to the center of the stage, and paused. He + seemed to be in doubt as to whether he should make a speech or simply + express his thanks and retire. Suddenly, and without a signal, the great + audience rose as one man and stood in silence at his feet. He bowed, but + he could not speak. Then that vast assembly began a peculiar chant, + spelling out slowly the word Missouri, with a pause between each letter. + It was dramatic; it was tremendous in its impressiveness. He had recovered + himself when they finished. He said he didn't know whether he was expected + to make a speech or not. They did not leave him in doubt. They cheered and + demanded a speech, a speech, and he made them one—one of the + speeches he could make best, full of quaint phrasing, happy humor, gentle + and dramatic pathos. He closed by telling the watermelon story for its + “moral effect.” + </p> + <p> + He was the guest of E. W. Stevens in Columbia, and a dinner was given in + his honor. They would have liked to keep him longer, but he was due in St. + Louis again to join in the dedication of the grounds, where was to be held + a World's Fair, to celebrate the Louisiana Purchase. Another ceremony he + attended was the christening of the St. Louis harbor-boat, or rather the + rechristening, for it had been decided to change its name from the St. + Louis—[Originally the Elon G. Smith, built in 1873.]—to the + Mark Twain. A short trip was made on it for the ceremony. Governor Francis + and Mayor Wells were of the party, and Count and Countess Rochambeau and + Marquis de Lafayette, with the rest of the French group that had come over + for the dedication of the World's Fair grounds. + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain himself was invited to pilot the harbor boat, and so returned + for the last time to his old place at the wheel. They all collected in the + pilot-house behind him, feeling that it was a memorable occasion. They + were going along well enough when he saw a little ripple running out from + the shore across the bow. In the old days he could have told whether it + indicated a bar there or was only caused by the wind, but he could not be + sure any more. Turning to the pilot languidly, he said: “I feel a + little tired. I guess you had better take the wheel.” + </p> + <p> + Luncheon was served aboard, and Mayor Wells made the christening speech; + then the Countess Rochambeau took a bottle of champagne from the hand of + Governor Francis and smashed it on the deck, saying, “I christen + thee, good boat, Mark Twain.” So it was, the Mississippi joined in + according him honors. In his speech of reply he paid tribute to those + illustrious visitors from France and recounted something of the story of + French exploration along that great river. + </p> + <p> + “The name of La Salle will last as long as the river itself,” + he said; “will last until commerce is dead. We have allowed the + commerce of the river to die, but it was to accommodate the railroads, and + we must be grateful.” + </p> + <p> + Carriages were waiting for them when the boat landed in the afternoon, and + the party got in and were driven to a house which had been identified as + Eugene Field's birthplace. A bronze tablet recording this fact had been + installed, and this was to be the unveiling. The place was not in an + inviting quarter of the town. It stood in what is known as Walsh's Row—was + fashionable enough once, perhaps, but long since fallen into disrepute. + Ragged children played in the doorways, and thirsty lodgers were making + trips with tin pails to convenient bar-rooms. A curious nondescript + audience assembled around the little group of dedicators, wondering what + it was all about. The tablet was concealed by the American flag, which + could be easily pulled away by an attached cord. Governor Francis spoke a + few words, to the effect that they had gathered here to unveil a tablet to + an American poet, and that it was fitting that Mark Twain should do this. + They removed their hats, and Clemens, his white hair blowing in the wind, + said: + </p> + <p> + “My friends; we are here with reverence and respect to commemorate + and enshrine in memory the house where was born a man who, by his life, + made bright the lives of all who knew him, and by his literary efforts + cheered the thoughts of thousands who never knew him. I take pleasure in + unveiling the tablet of Eugene Field.” + </p> + <p> + The flag fell and the bronze inscription was revealed. By this time the + crowd, generally, had recognized who it was that was speaking. A + working-man proposed three cheers for Mark Twain, and they were heartily + given. Then the little party drove away, while the neighborhood collected + to regard the old house with a new interest. + </p> + <p> + It was reported to Clemens later that there was some dispute as to the + identity of the Field birthplace. He said: + </p> + <p> + “Never mind. It is of no real consequence whether it is his + birthplace or not. A rose in any other garden will bloom as sweet.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0232" id="link2H_4_0232"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXXIII. AT YORK HARBOR + </h2> + <p> + They decided to spend the summer at York Harbor, Maine. They engaged a + cottage, there, and about the end of June Mr. Rogers brought his yacht + Kanawha to their water-front at Riverdale, and in perfect weather took + them to Maine by sea. They landed at York Harbor and took possession of + their cottage, The Pines, one of their many attractive summer lodges. + Howells, at Kittery Point, was not far away, and everything promised a + happy summer. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Clemens wrote to Mrs. Crane: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We are in the midst of pines. They come up right about us, and the + house is so high and the roots of the trees are so far below the + veranda that we are right in the branches. We drove over to call on + Mr. and Mrs. Howells. The drive was most beautiful, and never in my + life have I seen such a variety of wild flowers in so short a space. +</pre> + <p> + Howells tells us of the wide, low cottage in a pine grove overlooking York + River, and how he used to sit with Clemens that summer at a corner of the + veranda farthest away from Mrs. Clemens's window, where they could read + their manuscripts to each other, and tell their stories and laugh their + hearts out without disturbing her. + </p> + <p> + Clemens, as was his habit, had taken a work-room in a separate cottage + “in the house of a friend and neighbor, a fisherman and a boatman”: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There was a table where he could write, and a bed where he could lie + down and read; and there, unless my memory has played me one of + those constructive tricks that people's memories indulge in, he read + me the first chapters of an admirable story. The scene was laid in + a Missouri town, and the characters such as he had known in boyhood; + but often as I tried to make him own it, he denied having written + any such story; it is possible that I dreamed it, but I hope the MS. + will yet be found. +</pre> + <p> + Howells did not dream it; but in one way his memory misled him. The story + was one which Clemens had heard in Hannibal, and he doubtless related it + in his vivid way. Howells, writing at a later time, quite naturally + included it among the several manuscripts which Clemens read aloud to him. + Clemens may have intended to write the tale, may even have begun it, + though this is unlikely. The incidents were too well known and too + notorious in his old home for fiction. + </p> + <p> + Among the stories that Clemens did show, or read, to Howells that summer + was “The Belated Passport,” a strong, intensely interesting + story with what Howells in a letter calls a “goat's tail ending,” + perhaps meaning that it stopped with a brief and sudden shake—with a + joke, in fact, altogether unimportant, and on the whole disappointing to + the reader. A far more notable literary work of that summer grew out of a + true incident which Howells related to Clemens as they sat chatting + together on the veranda overlooking the river one summer afternoon. It was + a pathetic episode in the life of some former occupants of The Pines—the + tale of a double illness in the household, where a righteous deception was + carried on during several weeks for the benefit of a life that was about + to slip away. Out of this grew the story, “Was it Heaven? or Hell?” + a heartbreaking history which probes the very depths of the human soul. + Next to “Hadleyburg,” it is Mark Twain's greatest fictional + sermon. + </p> + <p> + Clemens that summer wrote, or rather finished, his most pretentious poem. + One day at Riverdale, when Mrs. Clemens had been with him on the lawn, + they had remembered together the time when their family of little folks + had filled their lives so full, conjuring up dream-like glimpses of them + in the years of play and short frocks and hair-plaits down their backs. It + was pathetic, heart-wringing fancying; and later in the day Clemens + conceived and began the poem which now he brought to conclusion. It was + built on the idea of a mother who imagines her dead child still living, + and describes to any listener the pictures of her fancy. It is an + impressive piece of work; but the author, for some reason, did not offer + it for publication.—[This poem was completed on the anniversary of + Susy's death and is of considerable length. Some selections from it will + be found under Appendix U, at the end of this work.] + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Clemens, whose health earlier in the year had been delicate, became + very seriously ill at York Harbor. Howells writes: + </p> + <p> + At first she had been about the house, and there was one gentle afternoon + when she made tea for us in the parlor, but that was the last time I spoke + with her. After that it was really a question of how soonest and easiest + she could be got back to Riverdale. + </p> + <p> + She had seemed to be in fairly good health and spirits for several weeks + after the arrival at York. Then, early in August, there came a great + celebration of some municipal anniversary, and for two or three days there + were processions, mass-meetings, and so on by day, with fireworks at + night. Mrs. Clemens, always young in spirit, was greatly interested. She + went about more than her strength warranted, seeing and hearing and + enjoying all that was going on. She was finally persuaded to forego the + remaining ceremonies and rest quietly on the pleasant veranda at home; but + she had overtaxed herself and a collapse was inevitable. Howells and two + friends called one afternoon, and a friend of the Queen of Rumania, a + Madame Hartwig, who had brought from that gracious sovereign a letter + which closed in this simple and modest fashion: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I beg your pardon for being a bore to one I so deeply love and + admire, to whom I owe days and days of forgetfulness of self and + troubles, and the intensest of all joys-hero-worship! People don't + always realize what a happiness that is! God bless you for every + beautiful thought you poured into my tired heart, and for every + smile on a weary way. CARMEN SYLVA. +</pre> + <p> + This was the occasion mentioned by Howells when Mrs. Clemens made tea for + them in the parlor for the last time. Her social life may be said to have + ended that afternoon. Next morning the break came. Clemens, in his + notebook for that day, writes: + </p> + <p> + Tuesday, August 12, 1902. At 7 A.M. Livy taken violently ill. Telephoned + and Dr. Lambert was here in 1/2 hour. She could not breathe-was likely to + stifle. Also she had severe palpitation. She believed she was dying. I + also believed it. + </p> + <p> + Nurses were summoned, and Mrs. Crane and others came from Elmira. Clara + Clemens took charge of the household and matters generally, and the + patient was secluded and guarded from every disturbing influence. Clemens + slipped about with warnings of silence. A visitor found notices in Mark + Twain's writing pinned to the trees near Mrs. Clemens's window warning the + birds not to sing too loudly. + </p> + <p> + The patient rallied, but she remained very much debilitated. On September + 3d the note-book says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Always Mr. Rogers keeps his yacht Kanawha in commission & ready to + fly here and take us to Riverdale on telegraphic notice. +</pre> + <p> + But Mrs. Clemens was unable to return by sea. When it was decided at last, + in October, that she could be removed to Riverdale, Clemens and Howells + went to Boston and engaged an invalid car to make the journey from York + Harbor to Riverdale without change. Howells tells us that Clemens gave his + strictest personal attention to the arrangement of these details, and that + they absorbed him. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There was no particular of the business which he did not scrutinize + and master.... With the inertness that grows upon an aging + man he had been used to delegate more and more things, but of that + thing I perceived that he would not delegate the least detail. +</pre> + <p> + They made the journey on the 16th, in nine and a half hours. With the + exception of the natural weariness due to such a trip, the invalid was + apparently no worse on their arrival. The stout English butler carried her + to her room. It would be many months before she would leave it again. In + one of his memoranda Clemens wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Our dear prisoner is where she is through overwork-day & night + devotion to the children & me. We did not know how to value it. We + know now. +</pre> + <p> + And in a notation, on a letter praising him for what he had done for the + world's enjoyment, and for his splendid triumph over debt, he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Livy never gets her share of these applauses, but it is because the + people do not know. Yet she is entitled to the lion's share. +</pre> + <p> + He wrote Twichell at the end of October: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Livy drags along drearily. It must be hard times for that turbulent + spirit. It will be a long time before she is on her feet again. It + is a most pathetic case. I wish I could transfer it to myself. + Between ripping & raging & smoking & reading I could get a good deal + of holiday out of it. Clara runs the house smoothly & capitally. +</pre> + <p> + Heavy as was the cloud of illness, he could not help pestering Twichell a + little about a recent mishap—a sprained shoulder: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I should like to know how & where it happened. In the pulpit, as + like as not, otherwise you would not be taking so much pains to + conceal it. This is not a malicious suggestion, & not a personally + invented one: you told me yourself once that you threw artificial + power & impressiveness in your sermons where needed by “banging the + Bible”—(your own words). You have reached a time of life when it + is not wise to take these risks. You would better jump around. We + all have to change our methods as the infirmities of age creep upon + us. Jumping around will be impressive now, whereas before you were + gray it would have excited remark. +</pre> + <p> + Mrs. Clemens seemed to improve as the weeks passed, and they had great + hopes of her complete recovery. Clemens took up some work—a new Huck + Finn story, inspired by his trip to Hannibal. It was to have two parts—Huck + and Tom in youth, and then their return in old age. He did some chapters + quite in the old vein, and wrote to Howells of his plan. Howells answered: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It is a great lay-out: what I shall enjoy most will be the return of + the old fellows to the scene and their tall lying. There is a + matchless chance there. I suppose you will put in plenty of pegs in + this prefatory part. +</pre> + <p> + But the new story did not reach completion. Huck and Tom would not come + back, even to go over the old scenes. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0233" id="link2H_4_0233"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXXIV. THE SIXTY-SEVENTH BIRTHDAY DINNER + </h2> + <p> + It was on the evening of the 27th of November, 1902, I at the Metropolitan + Club, New York City, that Col. George Harvey, president of the Harper + Company, gave Mark Twain a dinner in celebration of his sixty-seventh + birthday. The actual date fell three days later; but that would bring it + on Sunday, and to give it on Saturday night would be more than likely to + carry it into Sabbath morning, and so the 27th was chosen. Colonel Harvey + himself presided, and Howells led the speakers with a poem, “A + Double-Barreled Sonnet to Mark Twain,” which closed: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Still, to have everything beyond cavil right, + We will dine with you here till Sunday night. +</pre> + <p> + Thomas Brackett Reed followed with what proved to be the last speech he + would ever make, as it was also one of his best. All the speakers did well + that night, and they included some of the country's foremost in oratory: + Chauncey Depew, St. Clair McKelway, Hamilton Mabie, and Wayne MacVeagh. + Dr. Henry van Dyke and John Kendrick Bangs read poems. The chairman + constantly kept the occasion from becoming too serious by maintaining an + attitude of “thinking ambassador” for the guest of the + evening, gently pushing Clemens back in his seat when he attempted to rise + and expressing for him an opinion of each of the various tributes. + </p> + <p> + “The limit has been reached,” he announced at the close of Dr. + van Dyke's poem. “More that is better could not be said. Gentlemen, + Mr. Clemens.” + </p> + <p> + It is seldom that Mark Twain has made a better after-dinner speech than he + delivered then. He was surrounded by some of the best minds of the nation, + men assembled to do him honor. They expected much of him—to Mark + Twain always an inspiring circumstance. He was greeted with cheers and + hand-clapping that came volley after volley, and seemed never ready to + end. When it had died away at last he stood waiting a little in the + stillness for his voice; then he said, “I think I ought to be + allowed to talk as long as I want to,” and again the storm broke. + </p> + <p> + It is a speech not easy to abridge—a finished and perfect piece of + after-dinner eloquence,—[The “Sixty-seventh Birthday Speech” + entire is included in the volume Mark Twain's Speeches.]—full of + humorous stories and moving references to old friends—to Hay; and + Reed, and Twichell, and Howells, and Rogers, the friends he had known so + long and loved so well. He told of his recent trip to his boyhood home, + and how he had stood with John Briggs on Holliday's Hill and they had + pointed out the haunts of their youth. Then at the end he paid a tribute + to the companion of his home, who could not be there to share his + evening's triumph. This peroration—a beautiful heart-offering to her + and to those that had shared in long friendship—demands admission: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Now, there is one invisible guest here. A part of me is not + present; the larger part, the better part, is yonder at her home; + that is my wife, and she has a good many personal friends here, and + I think it won't distress any one of them to know that, although she + is going to be confined to her bed for many months to come from that + nervous prostration, there is not any danger and she is coming along + very well—and I think it quite appropriate that I should speak of + her. I knew her for the first time just in the same year that I + first knew John Hay and Tom Reed and Mr. Twichell—thirty-six years + ago—and she has been the best friend I have ever had, and that is + saying a good deal—she has reared me—she and Twichell together + —and what I am I owe to them. Twichell—why, it is such a pleasure + to look upon Twichell's face! For five and twenty years I was under + the Rev. Mr. Twichell's tuition, I was in his pastorate occupying a + pew in his church and held him in due reverence. That man is full + of all the graces that go to make a person companionable and + beloved; and wherever Twichell goes to start a church the people + flock there to buy the land; they find real estate goes up all + around the spot, and the envious and the thoughtful always try to + get Twichell to move to their neighborhood and start a church; and + wherever you see him go you can go and buy land there with + confidence, feeling sure that there will be a double price for you + before very long. + + I have tried to do good in this world, and it is marvelous in how + many different ways I have done good, and it is comfortable to + reflect—now, there's Mr. Rogers—just out of the affection I bear + that man many a time I have given him points in finance that he had + never thought of—and if he could lay aside envy, prejudice, and + superstition, and utilize those ideas in his business, it would make + a difference in his bank-account. + + Well, I liked the poetry. I liked all the speeches and the poetry, + too. I liked Dr. van Dyke's poem. I wish I could return thanks in + proper measure to you, gentlemen, who have spoken and violated your + feelings to pay me compliments; some were merited and some you + overlooked, it is true; and Colonel Harvey did slander every one of + you, and put things into my mouth that I never said, never thought + of at all. + + And now my wife and I, out of our single heart, return you our + deepest and most grateful thanks, and—yesterday was her birthday. +</pre> + <p> + The sixty-seventh birthday dinner was widely celebrated by the press, and + newspaper men generally took occasion to pay brilliant compliments to Mark + Twain. Arthur Brisbane wrote editorially: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + For more than a generation he has been the Messiah of a genuine + gladness and joy to the millions of three continents. +</pre> + <p> + It was little more than a week later that one of the old friends he had + mentioned, Thomas Brackett Reed, apparently well and strong that birthday + evening, passed from the things of this world. Clemens felt his death + keenly, and in a “good-by” which he wrote for Harper's Weekly + he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + His was a nature which invited affection—compelled it, in fact—and + met it half-way. Hence, he was “Tom” to the most of his friends and + to half of the nation.... + + I cannot remember back to a time when he was not “Tom” Reed to me, + nor to a time when he could have been offended at being so addressed + by me. I cannot remember back to a time when I could let him alone + in an after-dinner speech if he was present, nor to a time when he + did not take my extravagance concerning him and misstatements about + him in good part, nor yet to a time when he did not pay them back + with usury when his turn came. The last speech he made was at my + birthday dinner at the end of November, when naturally I was his + text; my last word to him was in a letter the next day; a day later + I was illustrating a fantastic article on art with his portrait + among others—a portrait now to be laid reverently away among the + jests that begin in humor and end in pathos. These things happened + only eight days ago, and now he is gone from us, and the nation is + speaking of him as one who was. It seems incredible, impossible. + Such a man, such a friend, seems to us a permanent possession; his + vanishing from our midst is unthinkable, as was the vanishing of the + Campanile, that had stood for a thousand years and was turned to + dust in a moment. +</pre> + <p> + The appreciation closes: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have only wished to say how fine and beautiful was his life and + character, and to take him by the hand and say good-by, as to a + fortunate friend who has done well his work and gees a pleasant + journey. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0234" id="link2H_4_0234"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXXV. CHRISTIAN SCIENCE CONTROVERSIES + </h2> + <p> + The North American Review for December (1902) contained an instalment of + the Christian Science series which Mark Twain had written in Vienna + several years before. He had renewed his interest in the doctrine, and his + admiration for Mrs. Eddy's peculiar abilities and his antagonism toward + her had augmented in the mean time. Howells refers to the “mighty + moment when Clemens was building his engines of war for the destruction of + Christian Science, which superstition nobody, and he least of all, + expected to destroy”: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He believed that as a religious machine the Christian Science Church + was as perfect as the Roman Church, and destined to be more + formidable in its control of the minds of men.... + + An interesting phase of his psychology in this business was not. + only his admiration for the masterly policy of the Christian Science + hierarchy, but his willingness to allow the miracles of its healers + to be tried on his friends and family if they wished it. He had a + tender heart for the whole generation of empirics, as well as the + newer sorts of scienticians, but he seemed to base his faith in them + largely upon the failure of the regulars, rather than upon their own + successes, which also he believed in. He was recurrently, but not + insistently, desirous that you should try their strange magics when + you were going to try the familiar medicines. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens never had any quarrel with the theory of Christian Science or + mental healing, or with any of the empiric practices. He acknowledged good + in all of them, and he welcomed most of them in preference to materia + medica. It is true that his animosity for the founder of the Christian + Science cult sometimes seems to lap over and fringe the religion itself; + but this is apparent rather than real. Furthermore, he frequently + expressed a deep obligation which humanity owed to the founder of the + faith, in that she had organized a healing element ignorantly and + indifferently employed hitherto. His quarrel with Mrs. Eddy lay in the + belief that she herself, as he expressed it, was “a very unsound + Christian Scientist.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I believe she has a serious malady—self-edification—and that it + will be well to have one of the experts demonstrate over her. [But + he added]: Closely examined, painstakingly studied, she is easily + the most interesting person on the planet, and in several ways as + easily the most extraordinary woman that was ever born upon it. +</pre> + <p> + Necessarily, the forces of Christian Science were aroused by these + articles, and there were various replies, among them, one by the founder + herself, a moderate rejoinder in her usual literary form. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Mrs. Eddy in Error,” in the North American Review for April, 1903, + completed what Clemens had to say on the matter for this time. +</pre> + <p> + He was putting together a book on the subject, comprised of his various + published papers and some added chapters. It would not be a large volume, + and he offered to let his Christian Science opponents share it with him, + stating their side of the case. Mr. William D. McCrackan, one of the + church's chief advocates, was among those invited to participate. + McCrackan and Clemens, from having begun as enemies, had become quite + friendly, and had discussed their differences face to face at considerable + length. Early in the controversy Clemens one night wrote McCrackan a + pretty savage letter. He threw it on the hall table for mailing, but later + got out of bed and slipped down-stairs to get it. It was too late—the + letters had been gathered up and mailed. Next evening a truly Christian + note came from McCrackan, returning the hasty letter, which he said he was + sure the writer would wish to recall. Their friendship began there. For + some reason, however, the collaborated volume did not materialize. In the + end, publication was delayed a number of years, by which time Clemens's + active interest was a good deal modified, though the practice itself never + failed to invite his attention. + </p> + <p> + Howells refers to his anti-Christian Science rages, which began with the + postponement of the book, and these Clemens vented at the time in another + manuscript entitled, “Eddypus,” an imaginary history of a + thousand years hence, when Eddyism should rule the world. By that day its + founder would have become a deity, and the calendar would be changed to + accord with her birth. It was not publishable matter, and really never + intended as such. It was just one of the things which Mark Twain wrote to + relieve mental pressure. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0235" id="link2H_4_0235"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXXVI. “WAS IT HEAVEN? OR HELL?” + </h2> + <p> + The Christmas number of Harper's Magazine for 1902 contained the story, + “Was it Heaven? or Hell?” and it immediately brought a flood + of letters to its author from grateful readers on both sides of the ocean. + An Englishman wrote: “I want to thank you for writing so pathetic + and so profoundly true a story”; and an American declared it to be + the best short story ever written. Another letter said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have learned to love those maiden liars—love and weep over them + —then put them beside Dante's Beatrice in Paradise. +</pre> + <p> + There were plenty of such letters; but there was one of a different sort. + It was a letter from a man who had but recently gone through almost + precisely the experience narrated in the tale. His dead daughter had even + borne the same name—Helen. She had died of typhus while her mother + was prostrated with the same malady, and the deception had been maintained + in precisely the same way, even to the fictitiously written letters. + Clemens replied to this letter, acknowledging the striking nature of the + coincidence it related, and added that, had he invented the story, he + would have believed it a case of mental telegraphy. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I was merely telling a true story just as it had been told to me by + one who well knew the mother and the daughter & all the beautiful & + pathetic details. I was living in the house where it had happened, + three years before, & I put it on paper at once while it was fresh + in my mind, & its pathos still straining at my heartstrings. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens did not guess that the coincidences were not yet complete, that + within a month the drama of the tale would be enacted in his own home. In + his note-book, under the date of December 24(1902), he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Jean was hit with a chill: Clara was completing her watch in her + mother's room and there was no one able to force Jean to go to bed. + As a result she is pretty ill to-day-fever & high temperature. +</pre> + <p> + Three days later he added: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It was pneumonia. For 5 days jean's temperature ranged between 103 + & 104 2/5, till this morning, when it got down to 101. She looks + like an escaped survivor of a forest fire. For 6 days now my story + in the Christmas Harper's “Was it Heaven? or Hell?”—has been + enacted in this household. Every day Clara & the nurses have lied + about Jean to her mother, describing the fine times she is having + outdoors in the winter sports. +</pre> + <p> + That proved a hard, trying winter in the Clemens home, and the burden of + it fell chiefly, indeed almost entirely, upon Clara Clemens. Mrs. Clemens + became still more frail, and no other member of the family, not even her + husband, was allowed to see her for longer than the briefest interval. Yet + the patient was all the more anxious to know the news, and daily it had to + be prepared—chiefly invented—for her comfort. In an account + which Clemens once set down of the “Siege and Season of Unveracity,” + as he called it, he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Clara stood a daily watch of three or four hours, and hers was a + hard office indeed. Daily she sealed up in her heart a dozen + dangerous truths, and thus saved her mother's life and hope and + happiness with holy lies. She had never told her mother a lie in + her life before, and I may almost say that she never told her a + truth afterward. It was fortunate for us all that Clara's + reputation for truthfulness was so well established in her mother's + mind. It was our daily protection from disaster. The mother never + doubted Clara's word. Clara could tell her large improbabilities + without exciting any suspicion, whereas if I tried to market even a + small and simple one the case would have been different. I was + never able to get a reputation like Clara's. Mrs. Clemens + questioned Clara every day concerning Jean's health, spirits, + clothes, employments, and amusements, and how she was enjoying + herself; and Clara furnished the information right along in minute + detail—every word of it false, of course. Every day she had to + tell how Jean dressed, and in time she got so tired of using Jean's + existing clothes over and over again, and trying to get new effects + out of them, that finally, as a relief to her hard-worked invention, + she got to adding imaginary clothes to Jean's wardrobe, and probably + would have doubled it and trebled it if a warning note in her + mother's comments had not admonished her that she was spending more + money on these spectral gowns and things than the family income + justified. +</pre> + <p> + Some portions of detailed accounts of Clara's busy days of this period, as + written at the time by Clemens to Twichell and to Mrs. Crane, are + eminently worth preserving. To Mrs. Crane: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Clara does not go to her Monday lesson in New York today [her mother + having seemed not so well through the night], but forgets that fact + and enters her mother's room (where she has no business to be) + toward train-time dressed in a wrapper. + + LIVY. Why, Clara, aren't you going to your lesson? + CLARA (almost caught). Yes. + L. In that costume? + CL. Oh no. + L. Well, you can't make your train; it's impossible. + CL. I know, but I'm going to take the other one. + L. Indeed that won't do—you'll be ever so much too late for + your lesson. + CL. No, the lesson-time has been put an hour later. + L. (satisfied, then suddenly). But, Clara, that train and the late + lesson together will make you late to Mrs. Hapgood's luncheon. + CL. No, the train leaves fifteen minutes earlier than it used to. + L. (satisfied). Tell Mrs. Hapgood, etc., etc., etc. (which Clara + promises to do). Clara, dear, after the luncheon—I hate to put + this on you—but could you do two or three little shopping-errands + for me? + CL. Oh, it won't trouble me a bit-I can do it. (Takes a list of + the things she is to buy-a list which she will presently hand to + another.) + + At 3 or 4 P.M. Clara takes the things brought from New York, + studies over her part a little, then goes to her mother's room. + + LIVY. It's very good of you, dear. Of course, if I had known it + was going to be so snowy and drizzly and sloppy I wouldn't have + asked you to buy them. Did you get wet? + CL. Oh, nothing to hurt. + L. You took a cab both ways? + CL. Not from the station to the lesson-the weather was good enough + till that was over. + L. Well, now, tell me everything Mrs. Hapgood said. + + Clara tells her a long yarn-avoiding novelties and surprises and + anything likely to inspire questions difficult to answer; and of + course detailing the menu, for if it had been the feeding of the + 5,000 Livy would have insisted on knowing what kind of bread it was + and how the fishes were served. By and by, while talking of + something else: + + LIVY. Clams!—in the end of December. Are you sure it was clams? + CL. I didn't say cl—-I meant Blue Points. + L. (tranquilized). It seemed odd. What is Jean doing? + CL. She said she was going to do a little typewriting. + L. Has she been out to-day? + CL. Only a moment, right after luncheon. She was determined to go + out again, but—— + L. How did you know she was out? + CL. (saving herself in time). Katie told me. She was determined + to go out again in the rain and snow, but I persuaded her to stay + in. + L. (with moving and grateful admiration). Clara, you are + wonderful! the wise watch you keep over Jean, and the influence you + have over her; it's so lovely of you, and I tied here and can't take + care of her myself. (And she goes on with these undeserved praises + till Clara is expiring with shame.) +</pre> + <p> + To Twichell: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I am to see Livy a moment every afternoon until she has another bad + night; and I stand in dread, for with all my practice I realize that + in a sudden emergency I am but a poor, clumsy liar, whereas a fine + alert and capable emergency liar is the only sort that is worth + anything in a sick-chamber. + + Now, Joe, just see what reputation can do. All Clara's life she has + told Livy the truth and now the reward comes; Clara lies to her + three and a half hours every day, and Livy takes it all at par, + whereas even when I tell her a truth it isn't worth much without + corroboration.... + + Soon my brief visit is due. I've just been up listening at Livy's + door. + + 5 P.M. A great disappointment. I was sitting outside Livy's door + waiting. Clara came out a minute ago and said L ivy is not so well, + and the nurse can't let me see her to-day. +</pre> + <p> + That pathetic drama was to continue in some degree for many a long month. + All that winter and spring Mrs. Clemens kept but a frail hold on life. + Clemens wrote little, and refused invitations everywhere he could. He + spent his time largely in waiting for the two-minute period each day when + he could stand at the bed-foot and say a few words to the invalid, and he + confined his writing mainly to the comforting, affectionate messages which + he was allowed to push under her door. He was always waiting there long + before the moment he was permitted to enter. Her illness and her + helplessness made manifest what Howells has fittingly characterized as his + “beautiful and tender loyalty to her, which was the most moving + quality of his most faithful soul.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0236" id="link2H_4_0236"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXXVII. THE SECOND RIVERDALE WINTER + </h2> + <p> + Most of Mark Twain's stories have been dramatized at one time or another, + and with more or less success. He had two plays going that winter, one of + them the little “Death Disk,” which—in story form had + appeared a year before in Harper's Magazine. It was put on at the Carnegie + Lyceum with considerable effect, but it was not of sufficient importance + to warrant a long continuance. + </p> + <p> + Another play of that year was a dramatization of Huckleberry Finn, by Lee + Arthur. This was played with a good deal of success in Baltimore, + Philadelphia, and elsewhere, the receipts ranging from three hundred to + twenty-one hundred dollars per night, according to the weather and + locality. Why the play was discontinued is not altogether apparent; + certainly many a dramatic enterprise has gone further, faring worse. + </p> + <p> + Huck in book form also had been having adventures a little earlier, in + being tabooed on account of his morals by certain librarians of Denver and + Omaha. It was years since Huck had been in trouble of that sort, and he + acquired a good deal of newspaper notoriety in consequence. + </p> + <p> + Certain entries in Mark Twain's note-book reveal somewhat of his life and + thought at this period. We find such entries as this: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Saturday, January 3, 1903. The offspring of riches: Pride, vanity, + ostentation, arrogance, tyranny. + + Sunday, January 4, 1903. The offspring of poverty: Greed, + sordidness, envy, hate, malice, cruelty, meanness, lying, shirking, + cheating, stealing, murder. + + Monday, February 2, 1903. 33d wedding anniversary. I was allowed + to see Livy 5 minutes this morning in honor of the day. She makes + but little progress toward recovery, still there is certainly some, + we are sure. + + Sunday, March 1, 1903. We may not doubt that society in heaven + consists mainly of undesirable persons. + + Thursday, March 19, 1903. Susy's birthday. She would be 31 now. +</pre> + <p> + The family illnesses, which presently included an allotment for himself, + his old bronchitis, made him rage more than ever at the imperfections of + the species which could be subject to such a variety of ills. Once he + wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Man was made at the end of the week's work when God was tired. +</pre> + <p> + And again: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Adam, man's benefactor—he gave him all that he has ever received + that was worth having—death. +</pre> + <p> + The Riverdale home was in reality little more than a hospital that spring. + Jean had scarcely recovered her physical strength when she was attacked by + measles, and Clara also fell a victim to the infection. Fortunately Mrs. + Clemens's health had somewhat improved. + </p> + <p> + It was during this period that Clemens formulated his eclectic therapeutic + doctrine. Writing to Twichell April 4, 1903, he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Livy does make a little progress these past 3 or 4 days, progress + which is visible to even the untrained eye. The physicians are + doing good work for her, but my notion is, that no art of healing is + the best for all ills. I should distribute the ailments around: + surgery cases to the surgeon; lupus to the actinic-ray specialist; + nervous prostration to the Christian Scientist; most ills to the + allopath & the homeopath; & (in my own particular case) rheumatism, + gout, & bronchial attack to the osteopathist. +</pre> + <p> + He had plenty of time to think and to read during those weeks of + confinement, and to rage, and to write when he felt the need of that + expression, though he appears to have completed not much for print beyond + his reply to Mrs. Eddy, already mentioned, and his burlesque, “Instructions + in Art,” with pictures by himself, published in the Metropolitan for + April and May. + </p> + <p> + Howells called his attention to some military outrages in the Philippines, + citing a case where a certain lieutenant had tortured one of his men, a + mild offender, to death out of pure deviltry, and had been tried but not + punished for his fiendish crime.—[The torture to death of Private + Edward C. Richter, an American soldier, by orders of a commissioned + officer of the United States army on the night of February 7, 1902. + Private Richter was bound and gagged and the gag held in his mouth by + means of a club while ice-water was slowly poured into his face, a dipper + full at a time, for two hours and a half, until life became extinct.] + </p> + <p> + Clemens undertook to give expression to his feelings on this subject, but + he boiled so when he touched pen to paper to write of it that it was + simply impossible for him to say anything within the bounds of print. Then + his only relief was to rise and walk the floor, and curse out his fury at + the race that had produced such a specimen. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Clemens, who perhaps got some drift or the echo of these tempests, + now and then sent him a little admonitory, affectionate note. + </p> + <p> + Among the books that Clemens read, or tried to read, during his + confinement were certain of the novels of Sir Walter Scott. He had never + been able to admire Scott, and determined now to try to understand this + author's popularity and his standing with the critics; but after wading + through the first volume of one novel, and beginning another one, he + concluded to apply to one who could speak as having authority. He wrote to + Brander Matthews: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR BRANDER,—I haven't been out of my bed for 4 weeks, but-well, I + have been reading a good deal, & it occurs to me to ask you to sit + down, some time or other when you have 8 or 9 months to spare, & jot + me down a certain few literary particulars for my help & elevation. + Your time need not be thrown away, for at your further leisure you + can make Columbian lectures out of the results & do your students a + good turn. + + 1. Are there in Sir Walter's novels passages done in good English + —English which is neither slovenly nor involved? + + 2. Are there passages whose English is not poor & thin & + commonplace, but is of a quality above that? + + 3. Are there passages which burn with real fire—not punk, fox- + fire, make-believe? + 4. Has he heroes & heroines who are not cads and cadesses? + + 5. Has he personages whose acts & talk correspond with their + characters as described by him? + + 6. Has he heroes & heroines whom the reader admires—admires and + knows why? + + 7. Has he funny characters that are funny, and humorous passages + that are humorous? + + 8. Does he ever chain the reader's interest & make him reluctant to + lay the book down? + + 9. Are there pages where he ceases from posing, ceases from + admiring the placid flood & flow of his own dilution, ceases from + being artificial, & is for a time, long or short, recognizably + sincere & in earnest? + + 10. Did he know how to write English, & didn't do it because he + didn't want to? + + 11. Did he use the right word only when he couldn't think of + another one, or did he run so much to wrong words because he didn't + know the right one when he saw it? + + 12. Can you read him and keep your respect for him? Of course a + person could in his day—an era of sentimentality & sloppy + romantics—but land! can a body do it to-day? + + Brander, I lie here dying; slowly dying, under the blight of Sir + Walter. I have read the first volume of Rob Roy, & as far as + Chapter XIX of Guy Mannering, & I can no longer hold my head up or + take my nourishment. Lord, it's all so juvenile! so artificial, so + shoddy; & such wax figures & skeletons & specters. Interest? Why, + it is impossible to feel an interest in these bloodless shams, these + milk-&-water humbugs. And oh, the poverty of invention! Not + poverty in inventing situations, but poverty in furnishing reasons + for them. Sir Walter usually gives himself away when he arranges + for a situation—elaborates & elaborates & elaborates till, if you + live to get to it, you don't believe in it when it happens. + + I can't find the rest of Rob Roy, I, can't stand any more Mannering + —I do not know just what to do, but I will reflect, & not quit this + great study rashly.... + + My, I wish I could see you & Leigh Hunt! + + Sincerely yours, + + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> + <p> + But a few days later he experienced a revelation. It came when he + perseveringly attacked still a third work of Scott—Quentin Durward. + Hastily he wrote to Matthews again: + </p> + <p> + I'm still in bed, but the days have lost their dullness since I broke into + Sir Walter & lost my temper. I finished Guy Mannering that curious, + curious book, with its mob of squalid shadows gibbering around a single + flesh-&-blood being—Dinmont; a book crazily put together out of + the very refuse of the romance artist's stage properties—finished it + & took up Quentin Durward & finished that. + </p> + <p> + It was like leaving the dead to mingle with the living; it was like + withdrawing from the infant class in the college of journalism to sit + under the lectures in English literature in Columbia University. + </p> + <p> + I wonder who wrote Quentin Durward?—[This letter, enveloped, + addressed, and stamped, was evidently mislaid. It was found and mailed + seven years later, June, 1910 message from the dead.] + </p> + <p> + Among other books which he read that winter and spring was Helen Keller's + 'The Story of My Life', then recently published. That he finished it in a + mood of sweet gentleness we gather from a long, lovely letter which he + wrote her—a letter in which he said: + </p> + <p> + I am charmed with your book—enchanted. You are a wonderful creature, + the most wonderful in the world—you and your other half together—Miss + Sullivan, I mean—for it took the pair of you to make a complete + & perfect whole. How she stands out in her letters! her brilliancy, + penetration, originality, wisdom, character, & the fine literary + competencies of her pen—they are all there. + </p> + <p> + When reading and writing failed as diversion, Mark Twain often turned to + mathematics. With no special talent for accuracy in the matter of figures, + he had a curious fondness for calculations, scientific and financial, and + he used to cover pages, ciphering at one thing and another, arriving + pretty inevitably at the wrong results. When the problem was financial, + and had to do with his own fortunes, his figures were as likely as not to + leave him in a state of panic. The expenditures were naturally heavy that + spring; and one night, when he had nothing better to do, he figured the + relative proportion to his income. The result showed that they were headed + straight for financial ruin. He put in the rest of the night fearfully + rolling and tossing, and reconstructing his figures that grew always + worse, and next morning summoned Jean and Clara and petrified them with + the announcement that the cost of living was one hundred and twenty-five + per cent. more than the money-supply. + </p> + <p> + Writing to MacAlister three days later he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It was a mistake. When I came down in the morning, a gray and aged + wreck, I found that in some unaccountable way (unaccountable to a + business man, but not to me) I had multiplied the totals by two. By + God, I dropped seventy-five years on the floor where I stood! + + Do you know it affected me as one is affected when one wakes out of + a hideous dream & finds it was only a dream. It was a great comfort + & satisfaction to me to call the daughters to a private meeting of + the board again. Certainly there is a blistering & awful reality + about a well-arranged unreality. It is quite within the + possibilities that two or three nights like that of mine would drive + a man to suicide. He would refuse to examine the figures, they + would revolt him so, & he would go to his death unaware that there + was nothing serious about them. I cannot get that night out of my + head, it was so vivid, so real, so ghastly: In any other year of + these thirty-three the relief would have been simple: go where you + can, cut your cloth to fit your income. You can't do that when your + wife can't be moved, even from one room to the next. + + The doctor & a specialist met in conspiracy five days ago, & in + their belief she will by and by come out of this as good as new, + substantially. They ordered her to Italy for next winter—which + seems to indicate that by autumn she will be able to undertake the + voyage. So Clara is writing to a Florence friend to take a look + around among the villas for us in the regions near that city. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0237" id="link2H_4_0237"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXXVIII. PROFFERED HONORS + </h2> + <p> + Mark Twain had been at home well on toward three years; but his popularity + showed no signs of diminishing. So far from having waned, it had surged to + a higher point than ever before. His crusade against public and private + abuses had stirred readers, and had set them to thinking; the news of + illness in his household; a report that he was contemplating another + residence abroad—these things moved deeply the public heart, and a + tide of letters flowed in, letters of every sort—of sympathy, of + love, or hearty endorsement, whatever his attitude of reform. + </p> + <p> + When a writer in a New York newspaper said, “Let us go outside the + realm of practical politics next time in choosing our candidates for the + Presidency,” and asked, “Who is our ablest and most + conspicuous private citizen?” another editorial writer, Joseph + Hollister, replied that Mark Twain was “the greatest man of his day + in private life, and entitled to the fullest measure of recognition.” + </p> + <p> + But Clemens was without political ambitions. He knew the way of such + things too well. When Hollister sent him the editorial he replied only + with a word of thanks, and did not, even in jest, encourage that tiny seed + of a Presidential boom. One would like to publish many of the beautiful + letters received during this period, for they are beautiful, most of them, + however illiterate in form, however discouraging in length—beautiful + in that they overflow with the writers' sincerity and gratitude. + </p> + <p> + So many of them came from children, usually without the hope of a reply, + some signed only with initials, that the writers might not be open to the + suspicion of being seekers for his autograph. Almost more than any other + reward, Mark Twain valued this love of the children. + </p> + <p> + A department in the St. Nicholas Magazine offered a prize for a caricature + drawing of some well-known man. There were one or two of certain prominent + politicians and capitalists, and there was literally a wheelbarrow load of + Mark Twain. When he was informed of this he wrote: “No tribute could + have pleased me more than that—the friendship of the children.” + </p> + <p> + Tributes came to him in many forms. In his native State it was proposed to + form a Mark Twain Association, with headquarters at Hannibal, with the + immediate purpose of having a week set apart at the St. Louis World's + Fair, to be called the Mark Twain week, with a special Mark Twain day, on + which a national literary convention would be held. But when his consent + was asked, and his co-operation invited, he wrote characteristically: + </p> + <p> + It is indeed a high compliment which you offer me, in naming an + association after me and in proposing the setting apart of a Mark Twain + day at the great St. Louis Fair, but such compliments are not proper for + the living; they are proper and safe for the dead only. I value the + impulse which moves you to tender me these honors. I value it as highly as + any one can, and am grateful for it, but I should stand in a sort of + terror of the honors themselves. So long as we remain alive we are not + safe from doing things which, however righteously and honorably intended, + can wreck our repute and extinguish our friendships. + </p> + <p> + I hope that no society will be named for me while I am still alive, for I + might at some time or other do something which would cause its members to + regret having done me that honor. After I shall have joined the dead I + shall follow the custom of those people, and be guilty of no conduct that + can wound any friend; but until that time shall come I shall be a doubtful + quantity, like the rest of our race. + </p> + <p> + The committee, still hoping for his consent, again appealed to him. But + again he wrote: + </p> + <p> + While I am deeply touched by the desire of my friends of Hannibal to + confer these great honors upon me I must still forbear to accept them. + Spontaneous and unpremeditated honors, like those which came to me at + Hannibal, Columbia, St. Louis, and at the village stations all down the + line, are beyond all price and are a treasure for life in the memory, for + they are a free gift out of the heart and they come without solicitation; + but I am a Missourian, and so I shrink from distinctions which have to be + arranged beforehand and with my privity, for I then become a party to my + own exalting. I am humanly fond of honors that happen, but chary of those + that come by canvass and intention. + </p> + <p> + Somewhat later he suggested a different feature for the fair; one that was + not practical, perhaps, but which certainly would have aroused interest—that + is to say, an old-fashioned six-day steamboat-race from New Orleans to St. + Louis, with the old-fashioned accessories, such as torch-baskets, + forecastle crowds of negro singers, with a negro on the safety-valve. In + his letter to President Francis he said: + </p> + <p> + As to particulars, I think that the race should be a genuine reproduction + of the old-time race, not just an imitation of it, and that it should + cover the whole course. I think the boats should begin the trip at New + Orleans, and side by side (not an interval between), and end it at North + St. Louis, a mile or two above the Big Mound. + </p> + <p> + In a subsequent letter to Governor Francis he wrote: + </p> + <p> + It has been a dear wish of mine to exhibit myself at the great Fair & + get a prize, but circumstances beyond my control have interfered.... + </p> + <p> + I suppose you will get a prize, because you have created the most + prodigious Fair the planet has ever seen. Very well, you have indeed + earned it, and with it the gratitude of the State and the nation. + </p> + <p> + Newspaper men used every inducement to get interviews from him. They + invited him to name a price for any time he could give them, long or + short. One reporter offered him five hundred dollars for a two-hour talk. + Another proposed to pay him one hundred dollars a week for a quarter of a + day each week, allowing him to discuss any subject he pleased. One wrote + asking him two questions: the first, “Your favorite method of + escaping from Indians”; the second, “Your favorite method of + escaping capture by the Indians when they were in pursuit of you.” + They inquired as to his favorite copy-book maxim; as to what he considered + most important to a young man's success; his definition of a gentleman. + They wished to know his plan for the settlement of labor troubles. But + they did not awaken his interest, or his cupidity. To one applicant he + wrote: + </p> + <p> + No, there are temptations against which we are fire-proof. Your + proposition is one which comes to me with considerable frequency, but it + never tempts me. The price isn't the objection; you offer plenty. It is + the nature of the work that is the objection—a kind of work which I + could not do well enough to satisfy me. To multiply the price by twenty + would not enable me to do the work to my satisfaction, & by + consequence would make no impression upon me. + </p> + <p> + Once he allowed himself to be interviewed for the Herald, when from Mr. + Rogers's yacht he had watched Sir Thomas Lipton's Shamrock go down to + defeat; but this was a subject which appealed to him—a kind of + hotweather subject—and he could be as light-minded about it as he + chose. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0238" id="link2H_4_0238"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXXXIX. THE LAST SUMMER AT ELMIRA + </h2> + <p> + The Clemenses were preparing to take up residence in Florence, Italy. The + Hartford house had been sold in May, ending forever the association with + the city that had so long been a part of their lives. The Tarrytown place, + which they had never occupied, they also agreed to sell, for it was the + belief now that Mrs. Clemens's health would never greatly prosper there. + Howells says, or at least implies, that they expected their removal to + Florence to be final. He tells us, too, of one sunny afternoon when he and + Clemens sat on the grass before the mansion at Riverdale, after Mrs. + Clemens had somewhat improved, and how they “looked up toward a + balcony where by and by that lovely presence made itself visible, as if it + had stooped there from a cloud. A hand frailly waved a handkerchief; + Clemens ran over the lawn toward it, calling tenderly.” It was a + greeting to Howells the last he would ever receive from her. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Clemens was able to make a trip to Elmira by the end of June, and on + the 1st of July Mr. Rogers brought Clemens and his wife down the river on + his yacht to the Lackawanna pier, and they reached Quarry Farm that + evening. She improved in the quietude and restfulness of that beloved + place. Three weeks later Clemens wrote to Twichell: + </p> + <p> + Livy is coming along: eats well, sleeps some, is mostly very gay, not very + often depressed; spends all day on the porch, sleeps there a part of the + night; makes excursions in carriage & in wheel-chair; &, in the + matter of superintending everything & everybody, has resumed business + at the old stand. + </p> + <p> + During three peaceful months she spent most of her days reclining on the + wide veranda, surrounded by those dearest to her, and looking out on the + dreamlike landscape—the long, grassy slope, the drowsy city, and the + distant hills—getting strength for the far journey by sea. Clemens + did some writing, occupying the old octagonal study—shut in now and + overgrown with vines—where during the thirty years since it was + built so many of his stories had been written. 'A Dog's Tale'—that + pathetic anti-vivisection story—appears to have been the last + manuscript ever completed in the spot consecrated by Huck and Tom, and by + Tom Canty the Pauper and the little wandering Prince. + </p> + <p> + It was October 5th when they left Elmira. Two days earlier Clemens had + written in his note-book: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Today I placed flowers on Susy's grave—for the last time probably + —& read words: + + “Good-night, dear heart, good-night.” + </pre> + <p> + They did not return to Riverdale, but went to the Hotel Grosvenor for the + intervening weeks. They had engaged passage for Italy on the Princess + Irene, which would sail on the 24th. It was during the period of their + waiting that Clemens concluded his final Harper contract. On that day, in + his note-book, he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THE PROPHECY +</pre> + <p> + In 1895 Cheiro the palmist examined my hand & said that in my 68th + year (1903) I would become suddenly rich. I was a bankrupt & $94,000 + in debt at the time through the failure of Charles L. Webster & Co. + Two years later—in London—Cheiro repeated this long-distance + prediction, & added that the riches would come from a quite unexpected + source. I am superstitious. I kept the prediction in mind & often + thought of it. When at last it came true, October 22, 1903, there was but + a month & 9 days to spare. + </p> + <p> + The contract signed that day concentrates all my books in Harper's hands + & now at last they are valuable; in fact they are a fortune. They + guarantee me $25,000 a year for 5 years, and they will yield twice as much + as that.—[In earlier note-books and letters Clemens more than once + refers to this prophecy and wonders if it is to be realized. The Harper + contract, which brought all of his books into the hands of one publisher + (negotiated for him by Mr. Rogers), proved, in fact, a fortune. The books + yielded always more than the guarantee; sometimes twice that amount, as he + had foreseen.] + </p> + <p> + During the conclusion of this contract Clemens made frequent visits to + Fairhaven on the Kanawha. Joe Goodman came from the Pacific to pay him a + good-by visit during this period. Goodman had translated the Mayan + inscriptions, and his work had received official recognition and + publication by the British Museum. It was a fine achievement for a man in + later life and Clemens admired it immensely. Goodman and Clemens enjoyed + each other in the old way at quiet resorts where they could talk over the + old tales. Another visitor of that summer was the son of an old friend, a + Hannibal printer named Daulton. Young Daulton came with manuscripts + seeking a hearing of the magazine editors, so Clemens wrote a letter which + would insure that favor: INTRODUCING MR. GEO. DAULTON: + </p> + <p> + TO GILDER, ALDEN, HARVEY, McCLURE, WALKER, PAGE, BOK, COLLIER, and such + other members of the sacred guild as privilege me to call them + friends-these: + </p> + <p> + Although I have no personal knowledge of the bearer of this, I have what + is better: He comes recommended to me by his own father—a thing not + likely to happen in any of your families, I reckon. I ask you, as a favor + to me, to waive prejudice & superstition for this once & examine + his work with an eye to its literary merit, instead of to the chastity of + its spelling. I wish to God you cared less for that particular. + </p> + <p> + I set (or sat) type alongside of his father, in Hannibal, more than 50 + years ago, when none but the pure in heart were in that business. A true + man he was; and if I can be of any service to his son—and to you at + the same time, let me hope—I am here heartily to try. + </p> + <p> + Yours by the sanctions of time & deserving, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sincerely, + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> + <p> + Among the kindly words which came to Mark Twain before leaving America was + this one which Rudyard Kipling had written to his publisher, Frank + Doubleday: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I love to think of the great and godlike Clemens. He is the biggest + man you have on your side of the water by a damn sight, and don't + you forget it. Cervantes was a relation of his. +</pre> + <p> + It curiously happened that Clemens at the same moment was writing to + Doubleday about Kipling: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have been reading “The Bell Buoy” and “The Old Man” over and over + again-my custom with Kipling's work—and saving up the rest for + other leisurely and luxurious meals. A bell-buoy is a deeply + impressive fellow-being. In these many recent trips up and down the + Sound in the Kanawha he has talked to me nightly sometimes in his + pathetic and melancholy way, sometimes with his strenuous and urgent + note, and I got his meaning—now I have his words! No one but + Kipling could do this strong and vivid thing. Some day I hope to + hear the poem chanted or sung-with the bell-buoy breaking in out of + the distance. + + P. S.—Your letter has arrived. It makes me proud and glad—what + Kipling says. I hope Fate will fetch him to Florence while we are + there. I would rather see him than any other man. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0239" id="link2H_4_0239"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXXX. THE RETURN TO FLORENCE + </h2> + <h3> + From the note-book: + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Saturday, October 24, 1903. Sailed in the Princess Irene for Genoa + at 11. Flowers & fruit from Mrs. Rogers & Mrs. Coe. We have with + us Katie Leary (in our domestic service 23 years) & Miss Margaret + Sherry (trained nurse). +</pre> + <p> + Two days later he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Heavy storm all night. Only 3 stewardesses. Ours served 60 meals + in rooms this morning. +</pre> + <p> + On the 27th: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Livy is enduring the voyage marvelously well. As well as Clara & + Jean, I think, & far better than the trained nurse. + + She has been out on deck an hour. + + November 2. Due at Gibraltar 10 days from New York. 3 days to + Naples, then 2 day to Genoa. + At supper the band played “Cavalleria Rusticana,” which is forever + associated in my mind with Susy. I love it better than any other, + but it breaks my heart. +</pre> + <p> + It was the “Intermezzo” he referred to, which had been Susy's + favorite music, and whenever he heard it he remembered always one + particular opera-night long ago, and Susy's face rose before him. + </p> + <p> + They were in Naples on the 5th; thence to Genoa, and to Florence, where + presently they were installed in the Villa Reale di Quarto, a fine old + Italian palace built by Cosimo more than four centuries ago. In later + times it has been occupied and altered by royal families of Wurtemberg and + Russia. Now it was the property of the Countess Massiglia, from whom + Clemens had leased it. + </p> + <p> + They had hoped to secure the Villa Papiniano, under Fiesole, near + Professor Fiske, but negotiations for it had fallen through. The Villa + Quarto, as it is usually called, was a more pretentious place and as + beautifully located, standing as it does in an ancient garden looking out + over Florence toward Vallombrosa and the Chianti hills. Yet now in the + retrospect, it seems hardly to have been the retreat for an invalid. Its + garden was supernaturally beautiful, all that one expects that a garden of + Italy should be—such a garden as Maxfield Parrish might dream; but + its beauty was that which comes of antiquity—the accumulation of + dead years. Its funereal cypresses, its crumbling walls and arches, its + clinging ivy and moldering marbles, and a clock that long ago forgot the + hours, gave it a mortuary look. In a way it suggested Arnold Bocklin's + “Todteninsel,” and it might well have served as the + allegorical setting for a gateway to the bourne of silence. + </p> + <p> + The house itself, one of the most picturesque of the old Florentine + suburban palaces, was historically interesting, rather than cheerful. The + rooms, in number more than sixty, though richly furnished, were vast and + barnlike, and there were numbers of them wholly unused and never entered. + There was a dearth of the modern improvements which Americans have learned + to regard as a necessity, and the plumbing, such as it was, was not always + in order. The place was approached by narrow streets, along which the more + uninviting aspects of Italy were not infrequent. Youth and health and + romance might easily have reveled in the place; but it seems now not to + have been the best choice for that frail invalid, to whom cheer and + brightness and freshness and the lovelier things of hope meant always so + much.—[Villa Quarto has recently been purchased by Signor P. de + Ritter Lahony, and thoroughly restored and refreshed and beautified + without the sacrifice of any of its romantic features.]—Neither was + the climate of Florence all that they had hoped for. Their former sunny + winter had misled them. Tradition to the contrary, Italy—or at least + Tuscany—is not one perpetual dream of sunlight. It is apt to be damp + and cloudy; it is likely to be cold. Writing to MacAlister, Clemens said: + </p> + <p> + Florentine sunshine? Bless you, there isn't any. We have heavy fogs every + morning & rain all day. This house is not merely large, it is vast—therefore + I think it must always lack the home feeling. + </p> + <p> + His dissatisfaction in it began thus early, and it grew as one thing after + another went wrong. With it all, however, Mrs. Clemens seemed to gain a + little, and was glad to see company—a reasonable amount of company—to + brighten her surroundings. + </p> + <p> + Clemens began to work and wrote a story or two, and those lively articles + about the Italian language. + </p> + <p> + To Twichell he reported progress: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have a handsome success in one way here. I left New York under a + sort of half-promise to furnish to the Harper magazines 30,000 words + this year. Magazining is difficult work because every third page + represents two pages that you have put in the fire (you are nearly + sure to start wrong twice), & so when you have finished an article & + are willing to let it go to print it represents only 10 cents a word + instead of 30. + + But this time I had the curious (& unprecedented) luck to start + right in each case. I turned out 37,000 words in 25 working days; & + the reason I think I started right every time is, that not only have + I approved and accepted the several articles, but the court of last + resort (Livy) has done the same. + + On many of the between-days I did some work, but only of an idle & + not necessarily necessary sort, since it will not see print until I + am dead. I shall continue this (an hour per day), but the rest of + the year I expect to put in on a couple of long books (half- + completed ones). No more magazine work hanging over my head. + + This secluded & silent solitude, this clean, soft air, & this + enchanting view of Florence, the great valley & snow-mountains that + frame it, are the right conditions for work. They are a persistent + inspiration. To-day is very lovely; when the afternoon arrives + there will be a new picture every hour till dark, & each of them + divine—or progressing from divine to diviner & divinest. On this + (second) floor Clara's room commands the finest; she keeps a window + ten feet high wide open all the time & frames it in that. I go in + from time to time every day & trade sass for a look. The central + detail is a distant & stately snow-hump that rises above & behind + black-forested hills, & its sloping vast buttresses, velvety & sun- + polished, with purple shadows between, make the sort of picture we + knew that time we walked in Switzerland in the days of our youth. +</pre> + <p> + From this letter, which is of January 7, 1904, we gather that the weather + had greatly improved, and with it Mrs. Clemens's health, notwithstanding + she had an alarming attack in December. One of the stories he had finished + was “The $30,000 Bequest.” The work mentioned, which would not + see print until after his death, was a continuation of those + autobiographical chapters which for years he had been setting down as the + mood seized him. + </p> + <p> + He experimented with dictation, which he had tried long before with + Redpath, and for a time now found it quite to his liking. He dictated some + of his copyright memories, and some anecdotes and episodes; but his + amanuensis wrote only longhand, which perhaps hampered him, for he tired + of it by and by and the dictations were discontinued. + </p> + <p> + Among these notes there is one elaborate description of the Villa di + Quarto, dictated at the end of the winter, by which time we are not + surprised to find he had become much attached to the place. The Italian + spring was in the air, and it was his habit to grow fond of his + surroundings. Some atmospheric paragraphs of these impressions invite us + here: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We are in the extreme south end of the house, if there is any such + thing as a south end to a house, whose orientation cannot be + determined by me, because I am incompetent in all cases where an + object does not point directly north & south. This one slants + across between, & is therefore a confusion. This little private + parlor is in one of the two corners of what I call the south end of + the house. The sun rises in such a way that all the morning it is + pouring its light through the 33 glass doors or windows which pierce + the side of the house which looks upon the terrace & garden; the + rest of the day the light floods this south end of the house, as I + call it; at noon the sun is directly above Florence yonder in the + distance in the plain, directly across those architectural features + which have been so familiar to the world in pictures for some + centuries, the Duomo, the Campanile, the Tomb of the Medici, & the + beautiful tower of the Palazzo Vecchio; in this position it begins + to reveal the secrets of the delicious blue mountains that circle + around into the west, for its light discovers, uncovers, & exposes a + white snowstorm of villas & cities that you cannot train yourself to + have confidence in, they appear & disappear so mysteriously, as if + they might not be villas & cities at all, but the ghosts of perished + ones of the remote & dim Etruscan times; & late in the afternoon the + sun sets down behind those mountains somewhere, at no particular + time & at no particular place, so far as I can see. +</pre> + <p> + Again at the end of March he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Now that we have lived in this house four and a half months my + prejudices have fallen away one by one & the place has become very + homelike to me. Under certain conditions I should like to go on + living in it indefinitely. I should wish the Countess to move out + of Italy, out of Europe, out of the planet. I should want her + bonded to retire to her place in the next world & inform me which of + the two it was, so that I could arrange for my own hereafter. +</pre> + <p> + Complications with their landlady had begun early, and in time, next to + Mrs. Clemens's health, to which it bore such an intimate and vital + relation, the indifference of the Countess Massiglia to their needs became + the supreme and absorbing concern of life at the villa, and led to + continued and almost continuous house-hunting. + </p> + <p> + Days when the weather permitted, Clemens drove over the hills looking for + a villa which he could lease or buy—one with conveniences and just + the right elevation and surroundings. There were plenty of villas; but + some of them were badly situated as to altitude or view; some were falling + to decay, and the search was rather a discouraging one. Still it was not + abandoned, and the reports of these excursions furnished new interest and + new hope always to the invalid at home. + </p> + <p> + “Even if we find it,” he wrote Howells, “I am afraid it + will be months before we can move Mrs. Clemens. Of course it will. But it + comforts us to let on that we think otherwise, and these pretensions help + to keep hope alive in her.” + </p> + <p> + She had her bad days and her good days, days when it was believed she had + passed the turning-point and was traveling the way to recovery; but the + good days were always a little less hopeful, the bad days a little more + discouraging. On February 22d Clemens wrote in his note-book: + </p> + <p> + At midnight Livy's pulse went to 192 & there was a collapse. Great + alarm. Subcutaneous injection of brandy saved her. + </p> + <p> + And to MacAlister toward the end of March: + </p> + <p> + We are having quite perfect weather now & are hoping that it will + bring effects for Mrs. Clemens. + </p> + <p> + But a few days later he added that he was watching the driving rain + through the windows, and that it was bad weather for the invalid. “But + it will not last,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The invalid improved then, and there was a concert in Florence at which + Clara Clemens sang. Clemens in his note-book says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + April 8. Clara's concert was a triumph. Livy woke up & sent for + her to tell her all about it, near midnight. +</pre> + <p> + But a day or two later she was worse again—then better. The hearts + in that household were as pendulums, swinging always between hope and + despair. + </p> + <p> + One familiar with the Clemens history might well have been filled with + forebodings. Already in January a member of the family, Mollie Clemens, + Orion's wife, died, news which was kept from Mrs. Clemens, as was the + death of Aldrich's son, and that of Sir Henry M. Stanley, both of which + occurred that spring. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, death harvested freely that year among the Clemens friendships. + Clemens wrote Twichell: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yours has just this moment arrived-just as I was finishing a note to + poor Lady Stanley. I believe the last country-house visit we paid + in England was to Stanley's. Lord! how my friends & acquaintances + fall about me now in my gray-headed days! Vereshchagin, Mommsen, + Dvorak, Lenbach, & Jokai, all so recently, & now Stanley. I have + known Stanley 37 years. Goodness, who is there I haven't known? +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0240" id="link2H_4_0240"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXXXI. THE CLOSE OF A BEAUTIFUL LIFE + </h2> + <p> + In one of his notes near the end of April Clemens writes that once more, + as at Riverdale, he has been excluded from Mrs. Clemens's room except for + the briefest moment at a time. But on May 12th, to R. W. Gilder, he + reported: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + For two days now we have not been anxious about Mrs. Clemens + (unberufen). After 20 months of bedridden solitude & bodily misery + she all of a sudden ceases to be a pallid, shrunken shadow, & looks + bright & young & pretty. She remains what she always was, the most + wonderful creature of fortitude, patience, endurance, and + recuperative power that ever was. But ah, dear! it won't last; + this fiendish malady will play new treacheries upon her, and I shall + go back to my prayers again—unutterable from any pulpit! + + May 13, A.M. I have just paid one of my pair of permitted 2-minute + visits per day to the sick-room. And found what I have learned to + expect—retrogression. +</pre> + <p> + There was a day when she was brought out on the terrace in a wheel-chair + to see the wonder of the early Italian summer. She had been a prisoner so + long that she was almost overcome with the delight of it all—the + more so, perhaps, in the feeling that she might so soon be leaving it. + </p> + <p> + It was on Sunday, the 5th of June, that the end came. Clemens and Jean had + driven out to make some calls, and had stopped at a villa, which promised + to fulfil most of the requirements. They came home full of enthusiasm + concerning it, and Clemens, in his mind, had decided on the purchase. In + the corridor Clara said: + </p> + <p> + “She is better to-day than she has been for three months.” + </p> + <p> + Then quickly, under her breath, “Unberufen,” which the others, + too, added hastily—superstitiously. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Clemens was, in fact, bright and cheerful, and anxious to hear all + about the new property which was to become their home. She urged him to + sit by her during the dinner-hour and tell her the details; but once, when + the sense of her frailties came upon her, she said they must not mind if + she could not go very soon, but be content where they were. He remained + from half past seven until eight—a forbidden privilege, but + permitted because she was so animated, feeling so well. Their talk was as + it had been in the old days, and once during it he reproached himself, as + he had so often done, and asked forgiveness for the tears he had brought + into her life. When he was summoned to go at last he chided himself for + remaining so long; but she said there was no harm, and kissed him, saying: + “You will come back,” and he answered, “Yes, to say good + night,” meaning at half past nine, as was the permitted custom. He + stood a moment at the door throwing kisses to her, and she returning them, + her face bright with smiles. + </p> + <p> + He was so hopeful and happy that it amounted to exaltation. He went to his + room at first, then he was moved to do a thing which he had seldom done + since Susy died. He went to the piano up-stairs and sang the old jubilee + songs that Susy had liked to hear him sing. Jean came in presently, + listening. She had not done this before, that he could remember. He sang + “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,” and “My Lord He Calls Me.” + He noticed Jean then and stopped, but she asked him to go on. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Clemens, in her room, heard the distant music, and said to her + attendant: + </p> + <p> + “He is singing a good-night carol to me.” + </p> + <p> + The music ceased presently, and then a moment later she asked to be lifted + up. Almost in that instant life slipped away without a sound. + </p> + <p> + Clemens, coming to say good night, saw a little group about her bed, Clara + and Jean standing as if dazed. He went and bent over and looked into her + face, surprised that she did not greet him. He did not suspect what had + happened until he heard one of the daughters ask: + </p> + <p> + “Katie, is it true? Oh, Katie, is it true?” + </p> + <p> + He realized then that she was gone. + </p> + <p> + In his note-book that night he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + At a quarter past 9 this evening she that was the life of my life + passed to the relief & the peace of death after as months of unjust + & unearned suffering. I first saw her near 37 years ago, & now I + have looked upon her face for the last time. Oh, so unexpected!... + I was full of remorse for things done & said in these 34 years of + married life that hurt Livy's heart. +</pre> + <p> + He envied her lying there, so free from it all, with the great peace upon + her face. He wrote to Howells and to Twichell, and to Mrs. Crane, those + nearest and dearest ones. To Twichell he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + How sweet she was in death, how young, how beautiful, how like her + dear girlish self of thirty years ago, not a gray hair showing! + This rejuvenescence was noticeable within two hours after her death; + & when I went down again (2.30) it was complete. In all that night + & all that day she never noticed my caressing hand—it seemed + strange. +</pre> + <p> + To Howells he recalled the closing scene: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I bent over her & looked in her face & I think I spoke—I was + surprised & troubled that she did not notice me. Then we understood + & our hearts broke. How poor we are to-day! + + But how thankful I am that her persecutions are ended! I would not + call her back if I could. + + To-day, treasured in her worn, old Testament, I found a dear & + gentle letter from you dated Far Rockaway, September 13, 1896, about + our poor Susy's death. I am tired & old; I wish I were with Livy. +</pre> + <p> + And in a few days: + </p> + <p> + It would break Livy's heart to see Clara. We excuse ourself from all the + friends that call—though, of course, only intimates come. Intimates—but + they are not the old, old friends, the friends of the old, old times when + we laughed. Shall we ever laugh again? If I could only see a dog that I + knew in the old times & could put my arms around his neck and tell him + all, everything, & ease my heart! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0241" id="link2H_4_0241"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXXXII. THE SAD JOURNEY HOME + </h2> + <p> + A tidal wave of sympathy poured in. Noble and commoner, friend and + stranger—humanity of every station—sent their messages of + condolence to the friend of mankind. The cablegrams came first—bundles + of them from every corner of the world—then the letters, a steady + inflow. Howells, Twichell, Aldrich—those oldest friends who had + themselves learned the meaning of grief—spoke such few and futile + words as the language can supply to allay a heart's mourning, each + recalling the rarity and beauty of the life that had slipped away. + Twichell and his wife wrote: + </p> + <p> + DEAR, DEAR MARK,—There is nothing we can say. What is there to say? + But here we are—with you all every hour and every minute—filled + with unutterable thoughts; unutterable affection for the dead and for the + living. HARMONY AND JOE. + </p> + <p> + Howells in his letter said: + </p> + <p> + She hallowed what she touched far beyond priests.... What are you going to + do, you poor soul? + </p> + <p> + A hundred letters crowd in for expression here, but must be denied—not, + however, the beam of hope out of Helen Keller's illumined night: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Do try to reach through grief and feel the pressure of her hand, as + I reach through darkness and feel the smile on my friends' lips and + the light in their eyes though mine are closed. +</pre> + <p> + They were adrift again without plans for the future. They would return to + America to lay Mrs. Clemens to rest by Susy and little Langdon, but beyond + that they could not see. Then they remembered a quiet spot in + Massachusetts, Tyringham, near Lee, where the Gilders lived, and so, on + June 7th, he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR GILDER FAMILY,—I have been worrying and worrying to know what + to do; at last I went to the girls with an idea—to ask the Gilders + to get us shelter near their summer home. It was the first time + they have not shaken their heads. So to-morrow I will cable to you + and shall hope to be in time. + + An hour ago the best heart that ever beat for me and mine was + carried silent out of this house, and I am as one who wanders and + has lost his way. She who is gone was our head, she was our hands. + We are now trying to make plans—we: we who have never made a plan + before, nor ever needed to. If she could speak to us she would make + it all simple and easy with a word, & our perplexities would vanish + away. If she had known she was near to death she would have told us + where to go and what to do, but she was not suspecting, neither were + we. She was all our riches and she is gone; she was our breath, she + was our life, and now we are nothing. + + We send you our love-and with it the love of you that was in her + heart when she died. + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> + <p> + They arranged to sail on the Prince Oscar on the 29th of June. There was + an earlier steamer, but it was the Princess Irene, which had brought them, + and they felt they would not make the return voyage on that vessel. During + the period of waiting a curious thing happened. Clemens one day got up in + a chair in his room on the second floor to pull down the high window-sash. + It did not move easily and his hand slipped. It was only by the merest + chance that he saved himself from falling to the ground far below. He + mentions this in his note-book, and once, speaking of it to Frederick + Duneka, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Had I fallen it would probably have killed me, and in my bereaved + circumstances the world would have been convinced that it was suicide. It + was one of those curious coincidences which are always happening and being + misunderstood.” + </p> + <p> + The homeward voyage and its sorrowful conclusion are pathetically conveyed + in his notes: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + June 29, 1904. Sailed last night at 10. The bugle-call to + breakfast. I recognized the notes and was distressed. When I heard + them last Livy heard them with me; now they fall upon her ear + unheeded. + + In my life there have been 68 Junes—but how vague & colorless 67 of + them are contrasted with the deep blackness of this one! + + July 1, 1904. I cannot reproduce Livy's face in my mind's eye—I + was never in my life able to reproduce a face. It is a curious + infirmity—& now at last I realize it is a calamity. + + July 2, 1904. In these 34 years we have made many voyages together, + Livy dear—& now we are making our last; you down below & lonely; I + above with the crowd & lonely. + + July 3, 1904. Ship-time, 8 A.M. In 13 hours & a quarter it will be + 4 weeks since Livy died. + + Thirty-one years ago we made our first voyage together—& this is + our last one in company. Susy was a year old then. She died at 24 + & had been in her grave 8 years. + + July 10, 1904. To-night it will be 5 weeks. But to me it remains + yesterday—as it has from the first. But this funeral march—how + sad & long it is! + + Two days more will end the second stage of it. + + July 14, 1904 (ELMIRA). Funeral private in the house of Livy's + young maidenhood. Where she stood as a bride 34 years ago there her + coffin rested; & over it the same voice that had made her a wife + then committed her departed spirit to God now. +</pre> + <p> + It was Joseph Twichell who rendered that last service. Mr. Beecher was + long since dead. It was a simple, touching utterance, closing with this + tender word of farewell: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Robert Browning, when he was nearing the end of his earthly days, + said that death was the thing that we did not believe in. Nor do we + believe in it. We who journeyed through the bygone years in + companionship with the bright spirit now withdrawn are growing old. + The way behind is long; the way before is short. The end cannot be + far off. But what of that? Can we not say, each one: + + “So long that power hath blessed me, sure it still + Will lead me on; + O'er moor and fen; o'er crag and torrent, till + The night is gone; + And with the morn, their angel faces smile, + Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile!” + + And so good-by. Good-by, dear heart! Strong, tender, and true. + Good-by until for us the morning break and these shadows fly away. +</pre> + <p> + Dr. Eastman, who had succeeded Mr. Beecher, closed the service with a + prayer, and so the last office we can render in this life for those we + love was finished. + </p> + <p> + Clemens ordered that a simple marker should be placed at the grave, + bearing, besides the name, the record of birth and death, followed by the + German line: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 'Gott sei dir gnadig, O meine Wonne'! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0242" id="link2H_4_0242"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXXXIII. BEGINNING ANOTHER HOME + </h2> + <p> + There was an extra cottage on the Gilder place at Tyringham, and this they + occupied for the rest of that sad summer. Clemens, in his note-book, has + preserved some of its aspects and incidents. + </p> + <p> + July 24, 1904. Rain—rain—rain. Cold. We built a fire in my + room. Then clawed the logs out & threw water, remembering there was a + brood of swallows in the chimney. The tragedy was averted. + </p> + <p> + July 31. LEE, MASSACHUSETTS (BERKSHIRE HILLS). Last night the young people + out on a moonlight ride. Trolley frightened Jean's horse—collision—horse + killed. Rodman Gilder picked Jean up, unconscious; she was taken to the + doctor, per the car. Face, nose, side, back contused; tendon of left ankle + broken. + </p> + <p> + August 10. NEW YORK. Clam here sick—never well since June 5. Jean is + at the summer home in the Berkshire Hills crippled. + </p> + <p> + The next entry records the third death in the Clemens family within a + period of eight months—that of Mrs. Moffett, who had been Pamela + Clemens. Clemens writes: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + September 1. Died at Greenwich, Connecticut, my sister, Pamela + Moffett, aged about 73. + + Death dates this year January 14, June 5, September 1. +</pre> + <p> + That fall they took a house in New York City, on the corner of Ninth + Street and Fifth Avenue, No. 21, remaining for a time at the Grosvenor + while the new home was being set in order. The home furniture was brought + from Hartford, unwrapped, and established in the light of strange + environment. Clemens wrote: + </p> + <p> + We have not seen it for thirteen years. Katie Leary, our old housekeeper, + who has been in our service more than twenty-four years, cried when she + told me about it to-day. She said, “I had forgotten it was so + beautiful, and it brought Mrs. Clemens right back to me—in that old + time when she was so young and lovely.” + </p> + <p> + Clara Clemens had not recovered from the strain of her mother's long + illness and the shock of her death, and she was ordered into retirement + with the care of a trained nurse. The life at 21 Fifth Avenue, therefore, + began with only two remaining members of the broken family—Clemens + and Jean. + </p> + <p> + Clemens had undertaken to divert himself with work at Tyringham, though + without much success. He was not well; he was restless and disturbed; his + heart bleak with a great loneliness. He prepared an article on Copyright + for the 'North American Review',—[Published Jan., 7905. A dialogue + presentation of copyright conditions, addressed to Thorwald Stolberg, + Register of Copyrights, Washington, D. C. One of the best of Mark Twain's + papers on the subject.]—and he began, or at least contemplated, that + beautiful fancy, 'Eve's Diary', which in the widest and most reverential + sense, from the first word to the last, conveys his love, his worship, and + his tenderness for the one he had laid away. Adam's single comment at the + end, “Wheresoever she was, there was Eden,” was his own + comment, and is perhaps the most tenderly beautiful line he ever wrote. + These two books, Adam's Diary and Eve's—amusing and sometimes absurd + as they are, and so far removed from the literal—are as + autobiographic as anything he has done, and one of them as lovely in its + truth. Like the first Maker of men, Mark Twain created Adam in his own + image; and his rare Eve is no less the companion with whom, half a + lifetime before, he had begun the marriage journey. Only here the likeness + ceases. No Serpent ever entered their Eden. And they never left it; it + traveled with them so long as they remained together. + </p> + <p> + In the Christmas Harper for 1904 was published “Saint Joan of Arc”—the + same being the Joan introduction prepared in London five years before. + Joan's proposed beatification had stirred a new interest in the martyred + girl, and this most beautiful article became a sort of key-note of the + public heart. Those who read it were likely to go back and read the + Recollections, and a new appreciation grew for that masterpiece. In his + later and wider acceptance by his own land, and by the world at large, the + book came to be regarded with a fresh understanding. Letters came from + scores of readers, as if it were a newly issued volume. A distinguished + educator wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I would rather have written your history of Joan of Arc than any + other piece of literature in any language. +</pre> + <p> + And this sentiment grew. The demand for the book increased, and has + continued to increase, steadily and rapidly. In the long and last analysis + the good must prevail. A day will come when there will be as many readers + of Joan as of any other of Mark Twain's works. + </p> + <p> + [The growing appreciation of Joan is shown by the report of sales for the + three years following 1904. The sales for that year in America were 1,726; + for 1905, 2,445 for 1906, 5,381; for 1907, 6,574. At this point it passed + Pudd'nhead Wilson, the Yankee, The Gilded Age, Life on the Mississippi, + overtook the Tramp Abroad, and more than doubled The American Claimant. + Only The Innocents Abroad, Huckleberry Finn, Tom Sawyer, and Roughing It + still ranged ahead of it, in the order named.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0243" id="link2H_4_0243"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXXXIV. LIFE AT 21 FIFTH AVENUE + </h2> + <p> + The house at 21 Fifth Avenue, built by the architect who had designed + Grace Church, had a distinctly ecclesiastical suggestion about its + windows, and was of fine and stately proportions within. It was a proper + residence for a venerable author and a sage, and with the handsome + Hartford furnishings distributed through it, made a distinctly suitable + setting for Mark Twain. But it was lonely for him. It lacked soul. He + added, presently, a great AEolian Orchestrelle, with a variety of music + for his different moods. He believed that he would play it himself when he + needed the comfort of harmony, and that Jean, who had not received musical + training, or his secretary could also play to him. He had a passion for + music, or at least for melody and stately rhythmic measures, though his + ear was not attuned to what are termed the more classical compositions. + For Wagner, for instance, he cared little, though in a letter to Mrs. + Crane he said: + </p> + <p> + Certainly nothing in the world is so solemn and impressive and so divinely + beautiful as “Tannhauser.” It ought to be used as a religious + service. + </p> + <p> + Beethoven's sonatas and symphonies also moved him deeply. Once, writing to + Jean, he asked: + </p> + <p> + What is your favorite piece of music, dear? Mine is Beethoven's Fifth + Symphony. I have found that out within a day or two. + </p> + <p> + It was the majestic movement and melodies of the second part that he found + most satisfying; but he oftener inclined to the still tenderer themes of + Chopin's nocturnes and one of Schubert's impromptus, while the “Lorelei” + and the “Erlking” and the Scottish airs never wearied him. + Music thus became a chief consolation during these lonely days—rich + organ harmonies that filled the emptiness of his heart and beguiled from + dull, material surroundings back into worlds and dreams that he had known + and laid away. + </p> + <p> + He went out very little that winter—usually to the homes of old and + intimate friends. Once he attended a small dinner given him by George + Smalley at the Metropolitan Club; but it was a private affair, with only + good friends present. Still, it formed the beginning of his return to + social life, and it was not in his nature to retire from the brightness of + human society, or to submerge himself in mourning. As the months wore on + he appeared here and there, and took on something of his old-time habit. + Then his annual bronchitis appeared, and he was confined a good deal to + his home, where he wrote or planned new reforms and enterprises. + </p> + <p> + The improvement of railway service, through which fewer persons should be + maimed and destroyed each year, interested him. He estimated that the + railroads and electric lines killed and wounded more than all of the wars + combined, and he accumulated statistics and prepared articles on the + subject, though he appears to have offered little of such matter for + publication. Once, however, when his sympathy was awakened by the victim + of a frightful trolley and train collision in Newark, New Jersey, he wrote + a letter which promptly found its way into print. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR MISS MADELINE, Your good & admiring & affectionate brother has + told me of your sorrowful share in the trolley disaster which + brought unaccustomed tears to millions of eyes & fierce resentment + against those whose criminal indifference to their responsibilities + caused it, & the reminder has brought back to me a pang out of that + bygone time. I wish I could take you sound & whole out of your bed + & break the legs of those officials & put them in it—to stay there. + For in my spirit I am merciful, and would not break their necks & + backs also, as some would who have no feeling. + + It is your brother who permits me to write this line—& so it is not + an intrusion, you see. + + May you get well-& soon! + Sincerely yours, + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> + <p> + A very little later he was writing another letter on a similar subject to + St. Clair McKelway, who had narrowly escaped injury in a railway accident. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR McKELWAY, Your innumerable friends are grateful, most grateful. + + As I understand the telegrams, the engineers of your train had never + seen a locomotive before.... The government's official + report, showing that our railways killed twelve hundred persons last + year & injured sixty thousand, convinces me that under present + conditions one Providence is not enough properly & efficiently to + take care of our railroad business. But it is characteristically + American—always trying to get along short-handed & save wages. +</pre> + <p> + A massacre of Jews in Moscow renewed his animosity for semi-barbaric + Russia. Asked for a Christmas sentiment, he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It is my warm & world-embracing Christmas hope that all of us that + deserve it may finally be gathered together in a heaven of rest & + peace, & the others permitted to retire into the clutches of Satan, + or the Emperor of Russia, according to preference—if they have a + preference. +</pre> + <p> + An article, “The Tsar's Soliloquy,” written at this time, was + published in the North American Review for March (1905). He wrote much + more, but most of the other matter he put aside. On a subject like that he + always discarded three times as much as he published, and it was usually + about three times as terrific as that which found its way into type. + “The Soliloquy,” however, is severe enough. It represents the + Tsar as contemplating himself without his clothes, and reflecting on what + a poor human specimen he presents: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Is it this that 140,000,000 Russians kiss the dust before and + worship?—manifestly not! No one could worship this spectacle which + is Me. Then who is it, what is it, that they worship? Privately, + none knows better than I: it is my clothes! Without my clothes I + should be as destitute of authority as any other naked person. No + one could tell me from a parson and barber tutor. Then who is the + real Emperor of Russia! My clothes! There is no other. +</pre> + <p> + The emperor continues this fancy, and reflects on the fierce cruelties + that are done in his name. It was a withering satire on Russian + imperialism, and it stirred a wide response. This encouraged Clemens to + something even more pretentious and effective in the same line. He wrote + “King Leopold's Soliloquy,” the reflections of the fiendish + sovereign who had maimed and slaughtered fifteen millions of African + subjects in his greed—gentle, harmless blacks-men, women, and little + children whom he had butchered and mutilated in his Congo rubber-fields. + Seldom in the history of the world have there been such atrocious + practices as those of King Leopold in the Congo, and Clemens spared + nothing in his picture of them. The article was regarded as not quite + suitable for magazine publication, and it was given to the Congo Reform + Association and issued as a booklet for distribution, with no return to + the author, who would gladly have written a hundred times as much if he + could have saved that unhappy race and have sent Leopold to the electric + chair.—[The book was price-marked twenty-five cents, but the returns + from such as were sold went to the cause. Thousands of them were + distributed free. The Congo, a domain four times as large as the German + empire, had been made the ward of Belgium at a convention in Berlin by the + agreement of fourteen nations, America and thirteen European states. + Leopold promptly seized the country for his personal advantage and the + nations apparently found themselves powerless to depose him. No more + terrible blunder was ever committed by an assemblage of civilized people.] + </p> + <p> + Various plans and movements were undertaken for Congo reform, and Clemens + worked and wrote letters and gave his voice and his influence and + exhausted his rage, at last, as one after another of the half-organized + and altogether futile undertakings showed no results. His interest did not + die, but it became inactive. Eventually he declared: “I have said + all I can say on that terrible subject. I am heart and soul in any + movement that will rescue the Congo and hang Leopold, but I cannot write + any more.” + </p> + <p> + His fires were likely to burn themselves out, they raged so fiercely. His + final paragraph on the subject was a proposed epitaph for Leopold when + time should have claimed him. It ran: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Here under this gilded tomb lies rotting the body of one the smell + of whose name will still offend the nostrils of men ages upon ages + after all the Caesars and Washingtons & Napoleons shall have ceased + to be praised or blamed & been forgotten—Leopold of Belgium. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens had not yet lost interest in the American policy in the + Philippines, and in his letters to Twichell he did not hesitate to + criticize the President's attitude in this and related matters. Once, in a + moment of irritation, he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR JOE,—I knew I had in me somewhere a definite feeling about the + President. If I could only find the words to define it with! Here + they are, to a hair—from Leonard Jerome: + + “For twenty years I have loved Roosevelt the man, and hated + Roosevelt the statesman and politician.” + + It's mighty good. Every time in twenty-five years that I have met + Roosevelt the man a wave of welcome has streaked through me with the + hand-grip; but whenever (as a rule) I meet Roosevelt the statesman & + politician I find him destitute of morals & not respect-worthy. It + is plain that where his political self & party self are concerned he + has nothing resembling a conscience; that under those inspirations + he is naively indifferent to the restraints of duty & even unaware + of them; ready to kick the Constitution into the back yard whenever + it gets in his way.... + + But Roosevelt is excusable—I recognize it & (ought to) concede it. + We are all insane, each in his own way, & with insanity goes + irresponsibility. Theodore the man is sane; in fairness we ought to + keep in mind that Theodore, as statesman & politician, is insane & + irresponsible. +</pre> + <p> + He wrote a great deal more from time to time on this subject; but that is + the gist of his conclusions, and whether justified by time, or otherwise, + it expresses today the deduction of a very large number of people. It is + set down here, because it is a part of Mark Twain's history, and also + because a little while after his death there happened to creep into print + an incomplete and misleading note (since often reprinted), which he once + made in a moment of anger, when he was in a less judicial frame of mind. + It seems proper that a man's honest sentiments should be recorded + concerning the nation's servants. + </p> + <p> + Clemens wrote an article at this period which he called the “War + Prayer.” It pictured the young recruits about to march away for war—the + excitement and the celebration—the drum-beat and the heart-beat of + patriotism—the final assembly in the church where the minister + utters that tremendous invocation: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + God the all-terrible! Thou who ordainest, + Thunder, Thy clarion, and lightning, Thy sword! +</pre> + <p> + and the “long prayer” for victory to the nation's armies. As + the prayer closes a white-robed stranger enters, moves up the aisle, and + takes the preacher's place; then, after some moments of impressive + silence, he begins: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I come from the Throne-bearing a message from Almighty God!.... + He has heard the prayer of His servant, your shepherd, & will grant + it if such shall be your desire after I His messenger shall have + explained to you its import—that is to say its full import. For it + is like unto many of the prayers of men in that it asks for more + than he who utters it is aware of—except he pause & think. + + “God's servant & yours has prayed his prayer. Has he paused & taken + thought? Is it one prayer? No, it is two—one uttered, the other + not. Both have reached the ear of Him who heareth all + supplications, the spoken & the unspoken.... + + “You have heard your servant's prayer—the uttered part of it. I am + commissioned of God to put into words the other part of it—that + part which the pastor—and also you in your hearts—fervently + prayed, silently. And ignorantly & unthinkingly? God grant that it + was so! You heard these words: 'Grant us the victory, O Lord our + God!' That is sufficient. The whole of the uttered prayer is + completed into those pregnant words. + + “Upon the listening spirit of God the Father fell also the unspoken + part of the prayer. He commandeth me to put it into words. Listen! + + “O Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go + forth to battle—be Thou near them! With them—in spirit—we + also go forth from the sweet peace of our beloved firesides to + smite the foe. + + “O Lord our God, help us to tear their soldiers to bloody + shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields + with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the + thunder of the guns with the wounded, writhing in pain; help us + to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help + us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with + unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with their + little children to wander unfriended through wastes of their + desolated land in rags & hunger & thirst, sport of the sun- + flames of summer & the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, + worn with travail, imploring Thee for the refuge of the grave & + denied it—for our sakes, who adore Thee, Lord, blast their + hopes, blight their lives, protract their bitter pilgrimage, + make heavy their steps, water their way with their tears, stain + the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet! We ask of + one who is the Spirit of love & who is the ever-faithful refuge + & friend of all that are sore beset, & seek His aid with humble + & contrite hearts. Grant our prayer, O Lord; & Thine shall be + the praise & honor & glory now & ever, Amen.” + + (After a pause.) “Ye have prayed it; if ye still desire it, + speak!—the messenger of the Most High waits.” + + ............... + + It was believed, afterward, that the man was a lunatic, because + there was no sense in what he said. +</pre> + <p> + To Dan Beard, who dropped in to see him, Clemens read the “War + Prayer,” stating that he had read it to his daughter Jean, and + others, who had told him he must not print it, for it would be regarded as + sacrilege. + </p> + <p> + “Still you—are going to publish it, are you not?” + </p> + <p> + Clemens, pacing up and down the room in his dressing-gown and slippers, + shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, “I have told the whole truth in that, and + only dead men can tell the truth in this world. It can be published after + I am dead.” + </p> + <p> + He did not care to invite the public verdict that he was a lunatic, or + even a fanatic with a mission to destroy the illusions and traditions and + conclusions of mankind. To Twichell he wrote, playfully but sincerely: + </p> + <p> + Am I honest? I give you my word of honor (privately) I am not. For seven + years I have suppressed a book which my conscience tells me I ought to + publish. I hold it a duty to publish it. There are other difficult duties + which I am equal to, but I am not equal to that one. Yes, even I am + dishonest. Not in many ways, but in some. Forty-one, I think it is. We are + certainly all honest in one or several ways—every man in the world—though + I have a reason to think I am the only one whose blacklist runs so light. + Sometimes I feel lonely enough in this lofty solitude. + </p> + <p> + It was his Gospel he referred to as his unpublished book, his doctrine of + Selfishness, and of Man the irresponsible Machine. To Twichell he + pretended to favor war, which he declared, to his mind, was one of the + very best methods known of diminishing the human race. + </p> + <p> + What a life it is!—this one! Everything we try to do, somebody + intrudes & obstructs it. After years of thought & labor I have + arrived within one little bit of a step of perfecting my invention for + exhausting the oxygen in the globe's air during a stretch of two minutes, + & of course along comes an obstructor who is inventing something to + protect human life. Damn such a world anyway. + </p> + <p> + He generally wrote Twichell when he had things to say that were outside of + the pale of print. He was sure of an attentive audience of one, and the + audience, whether it agreed with him or not, would at least understand him + and be honored by his confidence. In one letter of that year he said: + </p> + <p> + I have written you to-day, not to do you a service, but to do myself one. + There was bile in me. I had to empty it or lose my day to-morrow. If I + tried to empty it into the North American Review—oh, well, I + couldn't afford the risk. No, the certainty! The certainty that I wouldn't + be satisfied with the result; so I would burn it, & try again + to-morrow; burn that and try again the next day. It happens so nearly + every time. I have a family to support, & I can't afford this kind of + dissipation. Last winter when I was sick I wrote a magazine article three + times before I got it to suit me. I Put $500 worth of work on it every day + for ten days, & at last when I got it to suit me it contained but + 3,000 words-$900. I burned it & said I would reform. + </p> + <p> + And I have reformed. I have to work my bile off whenever it gets to where + I can't stand it, but I can work it off on you economically, because I + don't have to make it suit me. It may not suit you, but that isn't any + matter; I'm not writing it for that. I have used you as an equilibrium—restorer + more than once in my time, & shall continue, I guess. I would like to + use Mr. Rogers, & he is plenty good-natured enough, but it wouldn't be + fair to keep him rescuing me from my leather-headed business snarls & + make him read interminable bile-irruptions besides; I can't use Howells, + he is busy & old & lazy, & won't stand it; I dasn't use Clara, + there's things I have to say which she wouldn't put up with—a very + dear little ashcat, but has claws. And so—you're It. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [See the preface to the “Autobiography of Mark Twain”: 'I am writing + from the grave. On these terms only can a man be approximately + frank. He cannot be straitly and unqualifiedly frank either in the + grave or out of it.' D.W.] +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0244" id="link2H_4_0244"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXXXV. A SUMMER IN NEW HAMPSHIRE + </h2> + <p> + He took for the summer a house at Dublin, New Hampshire, the home of Henry + Copley Greene, Lone Tree Hill, on the Monadnock slope. It was in a lovely + locality, and for neighbors there were artists, literary people, and those + of kindred pursuits, among them a number of old friends. Colonel Higginson + had a place near by, and Abbott H. Thayer, the painter, and George de + Forest Brush, and the Raphael Pumpelly family, and many more. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Higginson wrote Clemens a letter of welcome as soon as the news + got out that he was going to Dublin; and Clemens, answering, said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I early learned that you would be my neighbor in the summer & I + rejoiced, recognizing in you & your family a large asset. I hope + for frequent intercourse between the two households. I shall have + my youngest daughter with me. The other one will go from the rest- + cure in this city to the rest-cure in Norfolk, Connecticut; & we + shall not see her before autumn. We have not seen her since the + middle of October. + + Jean, the younger daughter, went to Dublin & saw the house & came + back charmed with it. I know the Thayers of old—manifestly there + is no lack of attractions up there. Mrs. Thayer and I were + shipmates in a wild excursion perilously near 40 years ago. + + Aldrich was here half an hour ago, like a breeze from over the + fields, with the fragrance still upon his spirit. I am tired + wanting for that man to get old. +</pre> + <p> + They went to Dublin in May, and became at once a part of the summer colony + which congregated there. There was much going to and fro among the + different houses, pleasant afternoons in the woods, mountain-climbing for + Jean, and everywhere a spirit of fine, unpretentious comradeship. + </p> + <p> + The Copley Greene house was romantically situated, with a charming + outlook. Clemens wrote to Twichell: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We like it here in the mountains, in the shadows of Monadnock. It + is a woody solitude. We have no near neighbors. We have neighbors + and I can see their houses scattered in the forest distances, for we + live on a hill. I am astonished to find that I have known 8 of + these 14 neighbors a long time; 10 years is the shortest; then seven + beginning with 25 years & running up to 37 years' friendship. It is + the most remarkable thing I ever heard of. +</pre> + <p> + This letter was written in July, and he states in it that he has turned + out one hundred thousand words of a large manuscript.. It was a fantastic + tale entitled “3,000 Years among the Microbes,” a sort of + scientific revel—or revelry—the autobiography of a microbe + that had been once a man, and through a failure in a biological experiment + transformed into a cholera germ when the experimenter was trying to turn + him into a bird. His habitat was the person of a disreputable tramp named + Blitzowski, a human continent of vast areas, with seething microbic + nations and fantastic life problems. It was a satire, of course—Gulliver's + Lilliput outdone—a sort of scientific, socialistic, mathematical + jamboree. + </p> + <p> + He tired of it before it reached completion, though not before it had + attained the proportions of a book of size. As a whole it would hardly + have added to his reputation, though it is not without fine and humorous + passages, and certainly not without interest. Its chief mission was to + divert him mentally that summer during, those days and nights when he + would otherwise have been alone and brooding upon his loneliness.—[For + extracts from “3,000 Years among the Microbes” see Appendix V, + at the end of this work.] MARK TWAIN'S SUGGESTED TITLE-PAGE FOR HIS + MICROBE BOOK: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 3000 YEARS + AMONG THE MICROBES + + By a Microbe + + WITH NOTES + added by the same Hand + 7000 years later + + Translated from the Original + Microbic + by + + Mark Twain +</pre> + <p> + His inability to reproduce faces in his mind's eye he mourned as an + increasing calamity. Photographs were lifeless things, and when he tried + to conjure up the faces of his dead they seemed to drift farther out of + reach; but now and then kindly sleep brought to him something out of that + treasure-house where all our realities are kept for us fresh and fair, + perhaps for a day when we may claim them again. Once he wrote to Mrs. + Crane: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SUSY DEAR,—I have had a lovely dream. Livy, dressed in black, was + sitting up in my bed (here) at my right & looking as young & sweet + as she used to when she was in health. She said, “What is the name + of your sweet sister?” I said, “Pamela.” “Oh yes, that is it, I + thought it was—(naming a name which has escaped me) won't you write + it down for me?” I reached eagerly for a pen & pad, laid my hands + upon both, then said to myself, “It is only a dream,” and turned + back sorrowfully & there she was still. The conviction flamed + through me that our lamented disaster was a dream, & this a reality. + I said, “How blessed it is, how blessed it is, it was all a dream, + only a dream!” She only smiled and did not ask what dream I meant, + which surprised me. She leaned her head against mine & kept saying, + “I was perfectly sure it was a dream; I never would have believed it + wasn't.” I think she said several things, but if so they are gone + from my memory. I woke & did not know I had been dreaming. She was + gone. I wondered how she could go without my knowing it, but I did + not spend any thought upon that. I was too busy thinking of how + vivid & real was the dream that we had lost her, & how unspeakably + blessed it was to find that it was not true & that she was still + ours & with us. +</pre> + <p> + He had the orchestrelle moved to Dublin, although it was no small + undertaking, for he needed the solace of its harmonies; and so the days + passed along, and he grew stronger in body and courage as his grief + drifted farther behind him. Sometimes, in the afternoon or in the evening; + when the neighbors had come in for a little while, he would walk up and + down and talk in his old, marvelous way of all the things on land and sea, + of the past and of the future, “Of Providence, foreknowledge, will, + and fate,” of the friends he had known and of the things he had + done, of the sorrow and absurdities of the world. + </p> + <p> + It was the same old scintillating, incomparable talk of which Howells once + said: + </p> + <p> + “We shall never know its like again. When he dies it will die with + him.” + </p> + <p> + It was during the summer at Dublin that Clemens and Rogers together made + up a philanthropic ruse on Twichell. Twichell, through his own prodigal + charities, had fallen into debt, a fact which Rogers knew. Rogers was a + man who concealed his philanthropies when he could, and he performed many + of them of which the world will never know: In this case he said: + </p> + <p> + “Clemens, I want to help Twichell out of his financial difficulty. I + will supply the money and you will do the giving. Twichell must think it + comes from you.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens agreed to this on the condition that he be permitted to leave a + record of the matter for his children, so that he would not appear in a + false light to them, and that Twichell should learn the truth of the gift, + sooner or later. So the deed was done, and Twichell and his wife lavished + their thanks upon Clemens, who, with his wife, had more than once been + their benefactors, making the deception easy enough now. Clemens writhed + under these letters of gratitude, and forwarded them to Clara in Norfolk, + and later to Rogers himself. He pretended to take great pleasure in this + part of the conspiracy, but it was not an unmixed delight. To Rogers he + wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I wanted her [Clara] to see what a generous father she's got. I + didn't tell her it was you, but by and by I want to tell her, when I + have your consent; then I shall want her to remember the letters. I + want a record there, for my Life when I am dead, & must be able to + furnish the facts about the Relief-of-Lucknow-Twichell in case I + fall suddenly, before I get those facts with your consent, before + the Twichells themselves. + + I read those letters with immense pride! I recognized that I had + scored one good deed for sure on my halo account. I haven't had + anything that tasted so good since the stolen watermelon. + + P. S.-I am hurrying them off to you because I dasn't read them + again! I should blush to my heels to fill up with this unearned + gratitude again, pouring out of the thankful hearts of those poor + swindled people who do not suspect you, but honestly believe I gave + that money. +</pre> + <p> + Mr. Rogers hastily replied: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MY DEAR CLEMENS,—The letters are lovely. Don't breathe. They are + so happy! It would be a crime to let them think that you have in + any way deceived them. I can keep still. You must. I am sending + you all traces of the crime, so that you may look innocent and tell + the truth, as you usually do when you think you can escape + detection. Don't get rattled. + + Seriously. You have done a kindness. You are proud of it, I know. + You have made your friends happy, and you ought to be so glad as to + cheerfully accept reproof from your conscience. Joe Wadsworth and I + once stole a goose and gave it to a poor widow as a Christmas + present. No crime in that. I always put my counterfeit money on + the plate. “The passer of the sasser” always smiles at me and I get + credit for doing generous things. But seriously again, if you do + feel a little uncomfortable wait until I see you before you tell + anybody. Avoid cultivating misery. I am trying to loaf ten solid + days. We do hope to see you soon. +</pre> + <p> + The secret was kept, and the matter presently (and characteristically) + passed out of Clemens's mind altogether. He never remembered to tell + Twichell, and it is revealed here, according to his wish. + </p> + <p> + The Russian-Japanese war was in progress that summer, and its settlement + occurred in August. The terms of it did not please Mark Twain. When a + newspaper correspondent asked him for an expression of opinion on the + subject he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Russia was on the highroad to emancipation from an insane and + intolerable slavery. I was hoping there would be no peace until + Russian liberty was safe. I think that this was a holy war, in the + best and noblest sense of that abused term, and that no war was ever + charged with a higher mission. + + I think there can be no doubt that that mission is now defeated and + Russia's chain riveted; this time to stay. I think the Tsar will + now withdraw the small humanities that have been forced from him, + and resume his medieval barbarisms with a relieved spirit and an + immeasurable joy. I think Russian liberty has had its last chance + and has lost it. + + I think nothing has been gained by the peace that is remotely + comparable to what has been sacrificed by it. One more battle would + have abolished the waiting chains of billions upon billions of + unborn Russians, and I wish it could have been fought. I hope I am + mistaken, yet in all sincerity I believe that this peace is entitled + to rank as the most conspicuous disaster in political history. +</pre> + <p> + It was the wisest public utterance on the subject—the deep, resonant + note of truth sounding amid a clamor of foolish joy-bells. It was the + message of a seer—the prophecy of a sage who sees with the + clairvoyance of knowledge and human understanding. Clemens, a few days + later, was invited by Colonel Harvey to dine with Baron Rosen and M. + Sergius Witte; but an attack of his old malady—rheumatism—prevented + his acceptance. His telegram of declination apparently pleased the Russian + officials, for Witte asked permission to publish it, and declared that he + was going to take it home to show to the Tsar. It was as follows: + </p> + <p> + To COLONEL HARVEY,—I am still a cripple, otherwise I should be more + than glad of this opportunity to meet the illustrious magicians who came + here equipped with nothing but a pen, & with it have divided the + honors of the war with the sword. It is fair to presume that in thirty + centuries history will not get done in admiring these men who attempted + what the world regarded as the impossible & achieved it. + </p> + <p> + MARK TWAIN. + </p> + <p> + But this was a modified form. His original draft would perhaps have been + less gratifying to that Russian embassy. It read: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + To COLONEL HARVEY,—I am still a cripple, otherwise I should be more + than glad of this opportunity to meet those illustrious magicians + who with the pen have annulled, obliterated, & abolished every high + achievement of the Japanese sword and turned the tragedy of a + tremendous war into a gay & blithesome comedy. If I may, let me in + all respect and honor salute them as my fellow-humorists, I taking + third place, as becomes one who was not born to modesty, but by + diligence & hard work is acquiring it. + MARK. +</pre> + <p> + There was still another form, brief and expressive: + </p> + <p> + DEAR COLONEL,—No, this is a love-feast; when you call a lodge of + sorrow send for me. MARK. + </p> + <p> + Clemens's war sentiment was given the widest newspaper circulation, and + brought him many letters, most of them applauding his words. Charles + Francis Adams wrote him: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It attracted my attention because it so exactly expresses the views + I have myself all along entertained. +</pre> + <p> + And this was the gist of most of the expressed sentiments which came to + him. + </p> + <p> + Clemens wrote a number of things that summer, among them a little essay + entitled, “The Privilege of the Grave”—that is to say, + free speech. He was looking forward, he said, to the time when he should + inherit that privilege, when some of the things he had said, written and + laid away, could be published without damage to his friends or family. An + article entitled, “Interpreting the Deity,” he counted as + among the things to be uttered when he had entered into that last great + privilege. It is an article on the reading of signs and auguries in all + ages to discover the intentions of the Almighty, with historical examples + of God's judgments and vindications. Here is a fair specimen. It refers to + the chronicle of Henry Huntington: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + All through this book Henry exhibits his familiarity with the + intentions of God and with the reasons for the intentions. + Sometimes very often, in fact—the act follows the intention after + such a wide interval of time that one wonders how Henry could fit + one act out of a hundred to one intention, and get the thing right + every time, when there was such abundant choice among acts and + intentions. Sometimes a man offends the Deity with a crime, and is + punished for it thirty years later; meantime he has committed a + million other crimes: no matter, Henry can pick out the one that + brought the worms. Worms were generally used in those days for the + slaying of particularly wicked people. This has gone out now, but + in the old times it was a favorite. It always indicated a case of + “wrath.” For instance: + + “The just God avenging Robert Fitzhildebrand's perfidity, a worm + grew in his vitals which, gradually gnawing its way through his + intestines, fattened on the abandoned man till, tortured with + excruciating sufferings and venting himself in bitter moans, he was + by a fitting punishment brought to his end” (p. 400). + + It was probably an alligator, but we cannot tell; we only know it + was a particular breed, and only used to convey wrath. Some + authorities think it was an ichthyosaurus, but there is much doubt. +</pre> + <p> + The entire article is in this amusing, satirical strain, and might well + enough be printed to-day. It is not altogether clear why it was withheld, + even then. + </p> + <p> + He finished his Eve's Diary that summer, and wrote a story which was + originally planned to oblige Mrs. Minnie Maddern Fiske, to aid her in a + crusade against bullfighting in Spain. Mrs. Fiske wrote him that she had + read his dog story, written against the cruelties of vivisection, and + urged him to do something to save the horses that, after faithful service, + were sacrificed in the bull-ring. Her letter closed: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have lain awake nights very often wondering if I dare ask you to + write a story of an old horse that is finally given over to the + bull-ring. The story you would write would do more good than all + the laws we are trying to have made and enforced for the prevention + of cruelty to animals in Spain. We would translate and circulate + the story in that country. I have wondered if you would ever write + it. + + With most devoted homage, + Sincerely yours, + MINNIE MADDERN FISKE. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens promptly replied: + </p> + <p> + DEAR MRS. FISKE, I shall certainly write the story. But I may not get it + to suit me, in which case it will go in the fire. Later I will try it + again—& yet again—& again. I am used to this. It has + taken me twelve years to write a short story—the shortest one I ever + wrote, I think.—[Probably “The Death Disk:”]—So do + not be discouraged; I will stick to this one in the same way. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sincerely yours, + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> + <p> + It was an inspiring subject, and he began work on it immediately. Within a + month from the time he received Mrs. Fiske's letter he had written that + pathetic, heartbreaking little story, “A Horse's Tale,” and + sent it to Harper's Magazine for illustration. In a letter written to Mr. + Duneka at the time, he tells of his interest in the narrative, and adds: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + This strong interest is natural, for the heroine is my small + daughter Susy, whom we lost. It was not intentional—it was a good + while before I found it out, so I am sending you her picture to use + —& to reproduce with photographic exactness the unsurpassable + expression & all. May you find an artist who has lost an idol. +</pre> + <p> + He explains how he had put in a good deal of work, with his secretary, on + the orchestrelle to get the bugle-calls. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We are to do these theatricals this evening with a couple of + neighbors for audience, and then pass the hat. +</pre> + <p> + It is not one of Mark Twain's greatest stories, but its pathos brings the + tears, and no one can read it without indignation toward the custom which + it was intended to oppose. When it was published, a year later, Mrs. Fiske + sent him her grateful acknowledgments, and asked permission to have it + printed for pamphlet circulation m Spain. + </p> + <p> + A number of more or less notable things happened in this, Mark Twain's + seventieth year. There was some kind of a reunion going on in California, + and he was variously invited to attend. Robert Fulton, of Nevada, was + appointed a committee of one to invite him to Reno for a great celebration + which was to be held there. Clemens replied that he remembered, as if it + were but yesterday, when he had disembarked from the Overland stage in + front of the Ormsby Hotel, in Carson City, and told how he would like to + accept the invitation. + </p> + <p> + If I were a few years younger I would accept it, and promptly, and I would + go. I would let somebody else do the oration, but as for me I would talk—just + talk. I would renew my youth; and talk—and talk—and talk—and + have the time of my life! I would march the unforgotten and unforgetable + antiques by, and name their names, and give them reverent hail and + farewell as they passed—Goodman, McCarthy, Gillis, Curry, Baldwin, + Winters, Howard, Nye, Stewart, Neely Johnson, Hal Clayton, North, Root—and + my brother, upon whom be peace!—and then the desperadoes, who made + life a joy, and the “slaughter-house,” a precious possession: + Sam Brown, Farmer Pete, Bill Mayfield, Six-fingered Jake, Jack Williams, + and the rest of the crimson discipleship, and so on, and so on. Believe + me, I would start a resurrection it would do you more good to look at than + the next one will, if you go on the way you are going now. + </p> + <p> + Those were the days!—those old ones. They will come no more; youth + will come no more. They were so full to the brim with the wine of life; + there have been no others like them. It chokes me up to think of them. + Would you like me to come out there and cry? It would not beseem my white + head. + </p> + <p> + Good-by. I drink to you all. Have a good time-and take an old man's + blessing. + </p> + <p> + In reply to another invitation from H. H. Bancroft, of San Francisco, he + wrote that his wandering days were over, and that it was his purpose to + sit by the fire for the rest of his “remnant of life.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A man who, like me, is going to strike 70 on the 30th of next + November has no business to be flitting around the way Howells does + —that shameless old fictitious butterfly. (But if he comes don't + tell him I said it, for it would hurt him & I wouldn't brush a flake + of powder from his wing for anything. I only say it in envy of his + indestructible youth anyway. Howells will be 88 in October.) +</pre> + <p> + And it was either then or on a similar occasion that he replied after this + fashion: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have done more for San Francisco than any other of its old + residents. Since I left there it has increased in population fully + 300,000. I could have done more—I could have gone earlier—it was + suggested. +</pre> + <p> + Which, by the way, is a perfect example of Mark Twain's humorous manner, + the delicately timed pause, and the afterthought. Most humorists would + have been contented to end with the statement, “I could have gone + earlier.” Only Mark Twain could have added that final exquisite + touch—“it was suggested.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0245" id="link2H_4_0245"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXXXVI. AT PIER 70 + </h2> + <p> + Mark Twain was nearing seventy, the scriptural limitation of life, and the + returns were coming in. Some one of the old group was dying all the time. + The roll-call returned only a scattering answer. Of his oldest friends, + Charles Henry Webb, John Hay, and Sir Henry Irving, all died that year. + When Hay died Clemens gave this message to the press: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I am deeply grieved, & I mourn with the nation this loss which is + irreparable. My friendship with Mr. Hay & my admiration of him + endured 38 years without impairment. +</pre> + <p> + It was only a little earlier that he had written Hay an anonymous letter, + a copy of which he preserved. It here follows: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR & HONORED SIR,—I never hear any one speak of you & of your + long roll of illustrious services in other than terms of pride & + praise—& out of the heart. I think I am right in believing you to + be the only man in the civil service of the country the cleanness of + whose motives is never questioned by any citizen, & whose acts + proceed always upon a broad & high plane, never by accident or + pressure of circumstance upon a narrow or low one. There are + majorities that are proud of more than one of the nation's great + servants, but I believe, & I think I know, that you are the only one + of whom the entire nation is proud. Proud & thankful. + + Name & address are lacking here, & for a purpose: to leave you no + chance to make my words a burden to you and a reproach to me, who + would lighten your burdens if I could, not add to them. +</pre> + <p> + Irving died in October, and Clemens ordered a wreath for his funeral. To + MacAlister he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I profoundly grieve over Irving's death. It is another reminder. + My section of the procession has but a little way to go. I could + not be very sorry if I tried. +</pre> + <p> + Mark Twain, nearing seventy, felt that there was not much left for him to + celebrate; and when Colonel Harvey proposed a birthday gathering in his + honor, Clemens suggested a bohemian assembly over beer and sandwiches in + some snug place, with Howells, Henry Rogers, Twichell, Dr. Rice, Dr. + Edward Quintard, Augustus Thomas, and such other kindred souls as were + still left to answer the call. But Harvey had something different in view: + something more splendid even than the sixty-seventh birthday feast, more + pretentious, indeed, than any former literary gathering. He felt that the + attainment of seventy years by America's most distinguished man of letters + and private citizen was a circumstance which could not be moderately or + even modestly observed. The date was set five days later than the actual + birthday—that is to say, on December 5th, in order that it might not + conflict with the various Thanksgiving holidays and occasions. Delmonico's + great room was chosen for the celebration of it, and invitations were sent + out to practically every writer of any distinction in America, and to many + abroad. Of these nearly two hundred accepted, while such as could not come + sent pathetic regrets. + </p> + <p> + What an occasion it was! The flower of American literature gathered to do + honor to its chief. The whole atmosphere of the place seemed permeated + with his presence, and when Colonel Harvey presented William Dean Howells, + and when Howells had read another double-barreled sonnet, and introduced + the guest of the evening with the words, “I will not say, 'O King, + live forever,' but, 'O King, live as long as you like!'” and Mark + Twain rose, his snow-white hair gleaming above that brilliant assembly, it + seemed that a world was speaking out in a voice of applause and welcome. + With a great tumult the throng rose, a billow of life, the white + handkerchiefs flying foam-like on its crest. Those who had gathered there + realized that it was a mighty moment, not only in his life but in theirs. + They were there to see this supreme embodiment of the American spirit as + he scaled the mountain-top. He, too, realized the drama of that moment—the + marvel of it—and he must have flashed a swift panoramic view + backward over the long way he had come, to stand, as he had himself once + expressed it, “for a single, splendid moment on the Alps of fame + outlined against the sun.” He must have remembered; for when he came + to speak he went back to the very beginning, to his very first banquet, as + he called it, when, as he said, “I hadn't any hair; I hadn't any + teeth; I hadn't any clothes.” He sketched the meagerness of that + little hamlet which had seen his birth, sketched it playfully, + delightfully, so that his hearers laughed and shouted; but there was + always a tenderness under it all, and often the tears were not far beneath + the surface. He told of his habits of life, how he had attained seventy + years by simply sticking to a scheme of living which would kill anybody + else; how he smoked constantly, loathed exercise, and had no other + regularity of habits. Then, at last, he reached that wonderful, + unforgetable close: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Threescore years and ten! + + It is the scriptural statute of limitations. After that you owe no + active duties; for you the strenuous life is over. You are a time- + expired man, to use Kipling's military phrase: You have served your + term, well or less well, and you are mustered out. You are become + an honorary member of the republic, you are emancipated, compulsions + are not for you, nor any bugle-call but “lights out.” You pay the + time-worn duty bills if you choose, or decline if you prefer—and + without prejudice—for they are not legally collectable. + + The previous-engagement plea, which in forty years has cost you so + many twinges, you can lay aside forever; on this side of the grave + you will never need it again. If you shrink at thought of night, + and winter, and the late homecomings from the banquet and the lights + and laughter through the deserted streets—a desolation which would + not remind you now, as for a generation it did, that your friends + are sleeping and you must creep in a-tiptoe and not disturb them, + but would only remind you that you need not tiptoe, you can never + disturb them more—if you shrink at the thought of these things you + need only reply, “Your invitation honors me and pleases me because + you still keep me in your remembrance, but I am seventy; seventy, + and would nestle in the chimney-corner, and smoke my pipe, and read + my book, and take my rest, wishing you well in all affection, and + that when you in your turn shall arrive at Pier 70 you may step + aboard your waiting ship with a reconciled spirit, and lay your + course toward the sinking sun with a contented heart.” + </pre> + <p> + The tears that had been lying in wait were not restrained now. If there + were any present who did not let them flow without shame, who did not + shout their applause from throats choked with sobs, the writer of these + lines failed to see them or to hear of them. There was not one who was + ashamed to pay the great tribute of tears. + </p> + <p> + Many of his old friends, one after another, rose to tell their love for + him—Brander Matthews, Cable, Kate Douglas Riggs, Gilder, Carnegie, + Bangs, Bacheller—they kept it up far into the next morning. No other + arrival at Pier 70 ever awoke a grander welcome. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0246" id="link2H_4_0246"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXXXVII. AFTERMATH + </h2> + <p> + The announcement of the seventieth birthday dinner had precipitated a + perfect avalanche of letters, which continued to flow in until the news + accounts of it precipitated another avalanche. The carriers' bags were + stuffed with greetings that came from every part of the world, from every + class of humanity. They were all full of love and tender wishes. A card + signed only with initials said: “God bless your old sweet soul for + having lived.” + </p> + <p> + Aldrich, who could not attend the dinner, declared that all through the + evening he had been listening in his mind to a murmur of voices in the + hall at Delmonico's. A group of English authors in London combined in a + cable of congratulations. Anstey, Alfred Austin, Balfour, Barrie, Bryce, + Chesterton, Dobson, Doyle, Gosse, Hardy, Hope, Jacobs, Kipling, Lang, + Parker, Tenniel, Watson, and Zangwill were among the signatures. + </p> + <p> + Helen Keller wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + And you are seventy years old? Or is the report exaggerated, like + that of your death? I remember, when I saw you last, at the house + of dear Mr. Hutton, in Princeton, you said: + + “If a man is a pessimist before he is forty-eight he knows too much. + If he is an optimist after he is forty-eight he knows too little.” + + Now we know you are an optimist, and nobody would dare to accuse one + on the “seven-terraced summit” of knowing little. So probably you + are not seventy after all, but only forty-seven! +</pre> + <p> + Helen Keller was right. Mark Twain was not a pessimist in his heart, but + only by premeditation. It was his observation and his logic that led him + to write those things that, even in their bitterness, somehow conveyed + that spirit of human sympathy which is so closely linked to hope. To Miss + Keller he wrote: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you for your lovely words!” + </p> + <p> + He was given another birthday celebration that month—this time by + the Society of Illustrators. Dan Beard, president, was also toast-master; + and as he presented Mark Twain there was a trumpet-note, and a lovely + girl, costumed as Joan of Arc, entered and, approaching him, presented him + with a laurel wreath. It was planned and carried out as a surprise to him, + and he hardly knew for the moment whether it was a vision or a reality. He + was deeply affected, so much so that for several moments he could not find + his voice to make any acknowledgments. + </p> + <p> + Clemens was more than ever sought now, and he responded when the cause was + a worthy one. He spoke for the benefit of the Russian sufferers at the + Casino on December 18th. Madame Sarah Bernhardt was also there, and spoke + in French. He followed her, declaring that it seemed a sort of cruelty to + inflict upon an audience our rude English after hearing that divine speech + flowing in that lucid Gallic tongue. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It has always been a marvel to me—that French language; it has + always been a puzzle to me. How beautiful that language is! How + expressive it seems to be! How full of grace it is! + + And when it comes from lips like those, how eloquent and how limpid + it is! And, oh, I am always deceived—I always think I am going to + understand it. + + It is such a delight to me, such a delight to me, to meet Madame + Bernhardt, and laugh hand to hand and heart to heart with her. I + have seen her play, as we all have, and, oh, that is divine; but I + have always wanted to know Madame Bernhardt herself—her fiery self. + I have wanted to know that beautiful character. + + Why, she is the youngest person I ever saw, except myself—for I + always feel young when I come in the presence of young people. +</pre> + <p> + And truly, at seventy, Mark Twain was young, his manner, his movement, his + point of view-these were all, and always, young. + </p> + <p> + A number of palmists about that time examined impressions of his hand + without knowledge as to the owner, and they all agreed that it was the + hand of a man with the characteristics of youth, with inspiration, and + enthusiasm, and sympathy—a lover of justice and of the sublime. They + all agreed, too, that he was a deep philosopher, though, alas! they + likewise agreed that he lacked the sense of humor, which is not as + surprising as it sounds, for with Mark Twain humor was never mere + fun-making nor the love of it; rather it was the flower of his philosophy—its + bloom and fragrance. + </p> + <p> + When the fanfare and drum-beat of his birthday honors had passed by, and a + moment of calm had followed, Mark Twain set down some reflections on the + new estate he had achieved. The little paper, which forms a perfect + pendant to the “Seventieth Birthday Speech,” here follows: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + OLD AGE + + I think it likely that people who have not been here will be + interested to know what it is like. I arrived on the thirtieth of + November, fresh from carefree & frivolous 69, & was disappointed. + + There is nothing novel about it, nothing striking, nothing to thrill + you & make your eye glitter & your tongue cry out, “Oh, it is + wonderful, perfectly wonderful!” Yes, it is disappointing. You + say, “Is this it?—this? after all this talk and fuss of a thousand + generations of travelers who have crossed this frontier & looked + about them & told what they saw & felt? Why, it looks just like + 69.” + + And that is true. Also it is natural, for you have not come by the + fast express; you have been lagging & dragging across the world's + continents behind oxen; when that is your pace one country melts + into the next one so gradually that you are not able to notice the + change; 70 looks like 69; 69 looked like 68; 68 looked like 67—& so + on back & back to the beginning. If you climb to a summit & look + back—ah, then you see! + + Down that far-reaching perspective you can make out each country & + climate that you crossed, all the way up from the hot equator to the + ice-summit where you are perched. You can make out where Infancy + verged into Boyhood; Boyhood into down-lipped Youth; Youth into + bearded, indefinite Young-Manhood; indefinite Young-Manhood into + definite Manhood; definite Manhood, with large, aggressive + ambitions, into sobered & heedful Husbandhood & Fatherhood; these + into troubled & foreboding Age, with graying hair; this into Old + Age, white-headed, the temple empty, the idols broken, the + worshipers in their graves, nothing left but You, a remnant, a + tradition, belated fag-end of a foolish dream, a dream that was so + ingeniously dreamed that it seemed real all the time; nothing left + but You, center of a snowy desolation, perched on the ice-summit, + gazing out over the stages of that long trek & asking Yourself, + “Would you do it again if you had the chance?” + </pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0247" id="link2H_4_0247"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXXXVIII. THE WRITER MEETS MARK TWAIN + </h2> + <p> + We have reached a point in this history where the narrative becomes mainly + personal, and where, at the risk of inviting the charge of egotism, the + form of the telling must change. + </p> + <p> + It was at the end of 1901 that I first met Mark Twain—at The Players + Club on the night when he made the Founder's Address mentioned in an + earlier chapter. + </p> + <p> + I was not able to arrive in time for the address, but as I reached the + head of the stairs I saw him sitting on the couch at the dining-room + entrance, talking earnestly to some one, who, as I remember it, did not + enter into my consciousness at all. I saw only that crown of white hair, + that familiar profile, and heard the slow modulations of his measured + speech. I was surprised to see how frail and old he looked. From his + pictures I had conceived him different. I did not realize that it was a + temporary condition due to a period of poor health and a succession of + social demands. I have no idea how long I stood there watching him. He had + been my literary idol from childhood, as he had been of so many others; + more than that, for the personality in his work had made him nothing less + than a hero to his readers. + </p> + <p> + He rose presently to go, and came directly toward me. A year before I had + done what new writers were always doing—I had sent him a book I had + written, and he had done what he was always doing—acknowledged it + with a kindly letter. I made my thanks now an excuse for addressing him. + It warmed me to hear him say that he remembered the book, though at the + time I confess I thought it doubtful. Then he was gone; but the mind and + ear had photographed those vivid first impressions that remain always + clear. + </p> + <p> + It was the following spring that I saw him again—at an afternoon + gathering, and the memory of that occasion is chiefly important because I + met Mrs. Clemens there for the only time, and like all who met her, + however briefly, felt the gentleness and beauty of her spirit. I think I + spoke with her at two or three different moments during the afternoon, and + on each occasion was impressed with that feeling of acquaintanceship which + we immediately experience with those rare beings whose souls are wells of + human sympathy and free from guile. Bret Harte had just died, and during + the afternoon Mr. Clemens asked me to obtain for him some item concerning + the obsequies. + </p> + <p> + It was more than three years before I saw him again. Meantime, a sort of + acquaintance had progressed. I had been engaged in writing the life of + Thomas Nast, the cartoonist, and I had found among the material a number + of letters to Nast from Mark Twain. I was naturally anxious to use those + fine characteristic letters, and I wrote him for his consent. He wished to + see the letters, and the permission that followed was kindness itself. His + admiration of Nast was very great. + </p> + <p> + It was proper, under the circumstances, to send him a copy of the book + when it appeared; but that was 1904, his year of sorrow and absence, and + the matter was postponed. Then came the great night of his seventieth + birthday dinner, with an opportunity to thank him in person for the use of + the letters. There was only a brief exchange of words, and it was the next + day, I think, that I sent him a copy of the book. It did not occur to me + that I should hear of it again. + </p> + <p> + We step back a moment here. Something more than a year earlier, through a + misunderstanding, Mark Twain's long association with The Players had been + severed. It was a sorrow to him, and a still greater sorrow to the club. + There was a movement among what is generally known' as the “Round + Table Group”—because its members have long had a habit of + lunching at a large, round table in a certain window—to bring him + back again. David Munro, associate editor of the North American Review—“David,” + a man well loved of men—and Robert Reid, the painter, prepared this + simple document: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + TO + MARK TWAIN + from + THE CLANSMEN + + Will ye no come back again? + Will ye no come back again? + Better lo'ed ye canna be, + Will ye no come back again? +</pre> + <p> + It was signed by Munro and by Reid and about thirty others, and it touched + Mark Twain deeply. The lines had always moved him. He wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + TO ROBT. REID & THE OTHERS— + + WELL-BELOVED,—Surely those lovely verses went to Prince Charlie's + heart, if he had one, & certainly they have gone to mine. I shall + be glad & proud to come back again after such a moving & beautiful + compliment as this from comrades whom I have loved so long. I hope + you can poll the necessary vote; I know you will try, at any rate. + It will be many months before I can foregather with you, for this + black border is not perfunctory, not a convention; it symbolizes the + loss of one whose memory is the only thing I worship. + + It is not necessary for me to thank you—& words could not deliver + what I feel, anyway. I will put the contents of your envelope in + the small casket where I keep the things which have become sacred to + me. + S. L. C. +</pre> + <p> + So the matter was temporarily held in abeyance until he should return to + social life. At the completion of his seventieth year the club had taken + action, and Mark Twain had been brought back, not in the regular order of + things, but as an honorary life member without dues or duties. There was + only one other member of this class, Sir Henry Irving. + </p> + <p> + The Players, as a club, does not give dinners. Whatever is done in that + way is done by one or more of the members in the private dining-room, + where there is a single large table that holds twenty-five, even thirty + when expanded to its limit. That room and that table have mingled with + much distinguished entertainment, also with history. Henry James made his + first after-dinner speech there, for one thing—at least he claimed + it was his first, though this is by the way. + </p> + <p> + A letter came to me which said that those who had signed the plea for the + Prince's return were going to welcome him in the private dining-room on + the 5th of January. It was not an invitation, but a gracious privilege. I + was in New York a day or two in advance of the date, and I think David + Munro was the first person I met at The Players. As he greeted me his eyes + were eager with something he knew I would wish to hear. He had been + delegated to propose the dinner to Mark Twain, and had found him propped + up in bed, and noticed on the table near him a copy of the Nast book. I + suspect that Munro had led him to speak of it, and that the result had + lost nothing filtered through that radiant benevolence of his. + </p> + <p> + The night of January 5, 1906, remains a memory apart from other dinners. + Brander Matthews presided, and Gilder was there, and Frank Millet and + Willard Metcalf and Robert Reid, and a score of others; some of them are + dead now, David Munro among them. It so happened that my seat was nearly + facing the guest of the evening, who, by custom of The Players, is placed + at the side and not at the end of the long table. He was no longer frail + and thin, as when I had first met him. He had a robust, rested look; his + complexion had the tints of a miniature painting. Lit by the glow of the + shaded candles, relieved against the dusk richness of the walls, he made a + picture of striking beauty. One could not take his eyes from it, and to + one guest at least it stirred the farthest memories. I suddenly saw the + interior of a farm-house sitting-room in the Middle West, where I had + first heard uttered the name of Mark Twain, and where night after night a + group gathered around the evening lamp to hear the tale of the first + pilgrimage, which, to a boy of eight, had seemed only a wonderful poem and + fairy tale. To Charles Harvey Genung, who sat next to me, I whispered + something of this, and how, during the thirty-six years since then, no + other human being to me had meant quite what Mark Twain had meant—in + literature, in life, in the ineffable thing which means more than either, + and which we call “inspiration,” for lack of a truer word. Now + here he was, just across the table. It was the fairy tale come true. + </p> + <p> + Genung said: + </p> + <p> + “You should write his life.” + </p> + <p> + His remark seemed a pleasant courtesy, and was put aside as such. When he + persisted I attributed it to the general bloom of the occasion, and a + little to the wine, maybe, for the dinner was in its sweetest stage just + then—that happy, early stage when the first glass of champagne, or + the second, has proved its quality. He urged, in support of his idea, the + word that Munro had brought concerning the Nast book, but nothing of what + he said kindled any spark of hope. I could not but believe that some one + with a larger equipment of experience, personal friendship, and abilities + had already been selected for the task. By and by the speaking began—delightful, + intimate speaking in that restricted circle—and the matter went out + of my mind. + </p> + <p> + When the dinner had ended, and we were drifting about the table in general + talk, I found an opportunity to say a word to the guest of the evening + about his Joan of Arc, which I had recently re-read. To my happiness, he + detained me while he told me the long-ago incident which had led to his + interest, not only in the martyred girl, but in all literature. I think we + broke up soon after, and descended to the lower rooms. At any rate, I + presently found the faithful Charles Genung privately reasserting to me + the proposition that I should undertake the biography of Mark Twain. + Perhaps it was the brief sympathy established by the name of Joan of Arc, + perhaps it was only Genung's insistent purpose—his faith, if I may + be permitted the word. Whatever it was, there came an impulse, in the + instant of bidding good-by to our guest of honor, which prompted me to + say: + </p> + <p> + “May I call to see you, Mr. Clemens, some day?” + </p> + <p> + And something—dating from the primal atom, I suppose—prompted + him to answer: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, come soon.” + </p> + <p> + This was on Wednesday night, or rather on Thursday morning, for it was + past midnight, and a day later I made an appointment with his secretary to + call on Saturday. + </p> + <p> + I can say truly that I set out with no more than the barest hope of + success, and wondering if I should have the courage, when I saw him, even + to suggest the thought in my mind. I know I did not have the courage to + confide in Genung that I had made the appointment—I was so sure it + would fail. I arrived at 21 Fifth Avenue and was shown into that long + library and drawing-room combined, and found a curious and deep interest + in the books and ornaments along the shelves as I waited. Then I was + summoned, and I remember ascending the stairs, wondering why I had come on + so futile an errand, and trying to think of an excuse to offer for having + come at all. + </p> + <p> + He was propped up in bed—in that stately bed-sitting, as was his + habit, with his pillows placed at the foot, so that he might have always + before him the rich, carved beauty of its headboard. He was delving + through a copy of Huckleberry Finn, in search of a paragraph concerning + which some random correspondent had asked explanation. He was commenting + unfavorably on this correspondent and on miscellaneous letter-writing in + general. He pushed the cigars toward me, and the talk of these matters ran + along and blended into others more or less personal. By and by I told him + what so many thousands had told him before: what he had meant to me, + recalling the childhood impressions of that large, black-and-gilt-covered + book with its wonderful pictures and adventures—the Mediterranean + pilgrimage. Very likely it bored him—he had heard it so often—and + he was willing enough, I dare say, to let me change the subject and thank + him for the kindly word which David Munro had brought. I do not remember + what he said then, but I suddenly found myself suggesting that out of his + encouragement had grown a hope—though certainly it was something + less—that I might some day undertake a book about himself. I + expected the chapter to end at this point, and his silence which followed + seemed long and ominous. + </p> + <p> + He said, at last, that at various times through his life he had been + preparing some autobiographical matter, but that he had tired of the + undertaking, and had put it aside. He added that he had hoped his + daughters would one day collect his letters; but that a biography—a + detailed story of personality and performance, of success and failure—was + of course another matter, and that for such a work no arrangement had been + made. He may have added one or two other general remarks; then, turning + those piercing agate-blue eyes directly upon me, he said: + </p> + <p> + “When would you like to begin?” + </p> + <p> + There was a dresser with a large mirror behind him. I happened to catch my + reflection in it, and I vividly recollect saying to it mentally: “This + is not true; it is only one of many similar dreams.” But even in a + dream one must answer, and I said: + </p> + <p> + “Whenever you like. I can begin now.” + </p> + <p> + He was always eager in any new undertaking. + </p> + <p> + “Very good,” he said. “The sooner, then, the better. + Let's begin while we are in the humor. The longer you postpone a thing of + this kind the less likely you are ever to get at it.” + </p> + <p> + This was on Saturday, as I have stated. I mentioned that my family was + still in the country, and that it would require a day or two to get + established in the city. I asked if Tuesday, January 9th, would be too + soon to begin. He agreed that Tuesday would do, and inquired something + about my plan of work. Of course I had formed nothing definite, but I said + that in similar undertakings a part of the work had been done with a + stenographer, who had made the notes while I prompted the subject to + recall a procession of incidents and episodes, to be supplemented with + every variety of material obtainable—letters and other documentary + accumulations. Then he said: + </p> + <p> + “I think I should enjoy dictating to a stenographer, with some one + to prompt me and to act as audience. The room adjoining this was fitted up + for my study. My manuscripts and notes and private books and many of my + letters are there, and there are a trunkful or two of such things in the + attic. I seldom use the room myself. I do my writing and reading in bed. I + will turn that room over to you for this work. Whatever you need will be + brought to you. We can have the dictation here in the morning, and you can + put in the rest of the day to suit yourself. You can have a key and come + and go as you please.” + </p> + <p> + That was always his way. He did nothing by halves; nothing without + unquestioning confidence and prodigality. He got up and showed me the + lovely luxury of the study, with its treasures of material. I did not + believe it true yet. It had all the atmosphere of a dream, and I have no + distinct recollection of how I came away. When I returned to The Players + and found Charles Harvey Genung there, and told him about it, it is quite + certain that he perjured himself when he professed to believe it true and + pretended that he was not surprised. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0248" id="link2H_4_0248"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXXXIX. WORKING WITH MARK TWAIN + </h2> + <p> + On Tuesday, January 9, 1906, I was on hand with a capable stenographer—Miss + Josephine Hobby, who had successively, and successfully, held secretarial + positions with Charles Dudley Warner and Mrs. Mary Mapes Dodge, and was + therefore peculiarly qualified for the work in hand. + </p> + <p> + Clemens, meantime, had been revolving our plans and adding some features + of his own. He proposed to double the value and interest of our employment + by letting his dictations continue the form of those earlier + autobiographical chapters, begun with Redpath in 1885, and continued later + in Vienna and at the Villa Quarto. He said he did not think he could + follow a definite chronological program; that he would like to wander + about, picking up this point and that, as memory or fancy prompted, + without any particular biographical order. It was his purpose, he + declared, that his dictations should not be published until he had been + dead a hundred years or more—a prospect which seemed to give him an + especial gratification.—[As early as October, 1900, he had proposed + to Harper & Brothers a contract for publishing his personal memoirs at + the expiration of one hundred years from date; and letters covering the + details were exchanged with Mr. Rogers. The document, however, was not + completed.] + </p> + <p> + He wished to pay the stenographer, and to own these memoranda, he said, + allowing me free access to them for any material I might find valuable. I + could also suggest subjects for dictation, and ask particulars of any + special episode or period. I believe this covered the whole arrangement, + which did not require more than five minutes, and we set to work without + further prologue. + </p> + <p> + I ought to state that he was in bed when we arrived, and that he remained + there during almost all of these earlier dictations, clad in a handsome + silk dressing-gown of rich Persian pattern, propped against great snowy + pillows. He loved this loose luxury and ease, and found it conducive to + thought. On the little table beside him, where lay his cigars, papers, + pipes, and various knickknacks, shone a reading-lamp, making more + brilliant the rich coloring of his complexion and the gleam of his shining + hair. There was daylight, too, but it was north light, and the winter days + were dull. Also the walls of the room were a deep, unreflecting red, and + his eyes were getting old. The outlines of that vast bed blending into the + luxuriant background, the whole focusing to the striking central figure, + remain in my mind to-day—a picture of classic value. + </p> + <p> + He dictated that morning some matters connected with the history of the + Comstock mine; then he drifted back to his childhood, returning again to + the more modern period, and closed, I think, with some comments on current + affairs. It was absorbingly interesting; his quaint, unhurried fashion of + speech, the unconscious movement of his hands, the play of his features as + his fancies and phrases passed in mental review and were accepted or waved + aside. We were watching one of the great literary creators of his time in + the very process of his architecture. We constituted about the most select + audience in the world enjoying what was, likely enough, its most + remarkable entertainment. When he turned at last and inquired the time we + were all amazed that two hours and more had slipped away. + </p> + <p> + “And how much I have enjoyed it!” he said. “It is the + ideal plan for this kind of work. Narrative writing is always + disappointing. The moment you pick up a pen you begin to lose the + spontaneity of the personal relation, which contains the very essence of + interest. With shorthand dictation one can talk as if he were at his own + dinner-table—always a most inspiring place. I expect to dictate all + the rest of my life, if you good people are willing to come and listen to + it.” + </p> + <p> + The dictations thus begun continued steadily from week to week, and always + with increasing charm. We never knew what he was going to talk about, and + it was seldom that he knew until the moment of beginning; then he went + drifting among episodes, incidents, and periods in his irresponsible + fashion; the fashion of table-conversation, as he said, the methodless + method of the human mind. It was always delightful, and always amusing, + tragic, or instructive, and it was likely to be one of these at one + instant, and another the next. I felt myself the most fortunate biographer + in the world, as undoubtedly I was, though not just in the way that I + first imagined. + </p> + <p> + It was not for several weeks that I began to realize that these marvelous + reminiscences bore only an atmospheric relation to history; that they were + aspects of biography rather than its veritable narrative, and built + largely—sometimes wholly—from an imagination that, with age, + had dominated memory, creating details, even reversing them, yet with a + perfect sincerity of purpose on the part of the narrator to set down the + literal and unvarnished truth. It was his constant effort to be frank and + faithful to fact, to record, to confess, and to condemn without stint. If + you wanted to know the worst of Mark Twain you had only to ask him for it. + He would give it, to the last syllable—worse than the worst, for his + imagination would magnify it and adorn it with new iniquities, and if he + gave it again, or a dozen times, he would improve upon it each time, until + the thread of history was almost impossible to trace through the marvel of + that fabric; and he would do the same for another person just as + willingly. Those vividly real personalities that he marched and + countermarched before us were the most convincing creatures in the world; + the most entertaining, the most excruciatingly humorous, or wicked, or + tragic; but, alas, they were not always safe to include in a record that + must bear a certain semblance to history. They often disagreed in their + performance, and even in their characters, with the documents in the next + room, as I learned by and by when those records, disentangled, began to + rebuild the structure of the years. + </p> + <p> + His gift of dramatization had been exercised too long to be discarded now. + The things he told of Mrs. Clemens and of Susy were true—marvelously + and beautifully true, in spirit and in aspect—and the actual detail + of these mattered little in such a record. The rest was history only as + 'Roughing It' is history, or the 'Tramp Abroad'; that is to say, it was + fictional history, with fact as a starting-point. In a prefatory note to + these volumes we have quoted Mark Twain's own lovely and whimsical + admission, made once when he realized his deviations: + </p> + <p> + “When I was younger I could remember anything, whether it happened + or not; but I am getting old, and soon I shall remember only the latter.” + </p> + <p> + At another time he paraphrased one of Josh Billings's sayings in the + remark: “It isn't so astonishing, the number of things that I can + remember, as the number of things I can remember that aren't so.” + </p> + <p> + I do not wish to say, by any means, that his so-called autobiography is a + mere fairy tale. It is far from that. It is amazingly truthful in the + character-picture it represents of the man himself. It is only not + reliable—and it is sometimes even unjust—as detailed history. + Yet, curiously enough, there were occasional chapters that were + photographically exact, and fitted precisely with the more positive, if + less picturesque, materials. It is also true that such chapters were + likely to be episodes intrinsically so perfect as to not require the touch + of art. + </p> + <p> + In the talks which we usually had, when the dictations were ended and Miss + Hobby had gone, I gathered much that was of still greater value. + Imagination was temporarily dispossessed, as it were, and, whether + expounding some theory or summarizing some event, he cared little for + literary effect, and only for the idea and the moment immediately present. + </p> + <p> + It was at such times that he allowed me to make those inquiries we had + planned in the beginning, and which apparently had little place in the + dictations themselves. Sometimes I led him to speak of the genesis of his + various books, how he had come to write them, and I think there was not a + single case where later I did not find his memory of these matters almost + exactly in accord with the letters of the moment, written to Howells or + Twichell, or to some member of his family. Such reminiscence was usually + followed by some vigorous burst of human philosophy, often too vigorous + for print, too human, but as dazzling as a search-light in its revelation. + </p> + <p> + It was during this earlier association that he propounded, one day, his + theory of circumstance, already set down, that inevitable sequence of + cause and effect, beginning with the first act of the primal atom. He had + been dictating that morning his story of the clairvoyant dream which + preceded his brother's death, and the talk of foreknowledge had continued. + I said one might logically conclude from such a circumstance that the + future was a fixed quantity. + </p> + <p> + “As absolutely fixed as the past,” he said; and added the + remark already quoted.—[Chap. lxxv] A little later he continued: + </p> + <p> + “Even the Almighty Himself cannot check or change that sequence of + events once it is started. It is a fixed quantity, and a part of the + scheme is a mental condition during certain moments usually of sleep—when + the mind may reach out and grasp some of the acts which are still to come.” + </p> + <p> + It was a new angle to me—a line of logic so simple and so utterly + convincing that I have remained unshaken in it to this day. I have never + been able to find any answer to it, nor any one who could even attempt to + show that the first act of the first created atom did not strike the + key-note of eternity. + </p> + <p> + At another time, speaking of the idea that God works through man, he burst + out: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course, just about as much as a man works through his + microbes!” + </p> + <p> + He had a startling way of putting things like that, and it left not much + to say. + </p> + <p> + I was at this period interested a good deal in mental healing, and had + been treated for neurasthenia with gratifying results. Like most of the + world, I had assumed, from his published articles, that he condemned + Christian Science and its related practices out of hand. When I confessed, + rather reluctantly, one day, the benefit I had received, he surprised me + by answering: + </p> + <p> + “Of course you have been benefited. Christian Science is humanity's + boon. Mother Eddy deserves a place in the Trinity as much as any member of + it. She has organized and made available a healing principle that for two + thousand years has never been employed, except as the merest kind of + guesswork. She is the benefactor of the age.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed strange, at the time, to hear him speak in this way concerning a + practice of which he was generally regarded as the chief public + antagonist. It was another angle of his many-sided character. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0249" id="link2H_4_0249"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXL. THE DEFINITION OF A GENTLEMAN + </h2> + <p> + That was a busy winter for him socially. He was constantly demanded for + this thing and that—for public gatherings, dinners—everywhere + he was a central figure. Once he presided at a Valentine dinner given by + some Players to David Munro. He had never presided at a dinner before, he + said, and he did it in his own way, which certainly was a taking one, + suitable to that carefree company and occasion—a real Scotch + occasion, with the Munro tartan everywhere, the table banked with heather, + and a wild piper marching up and down in the anteroom, blowing savage airs + in honor of Scotland's gentlest son. + </p> + <p> + An important meeting of that winter was at Carnegie Hall—a great + gathering which had assembled for the purpose of aiding Booker T. + Washington in his work for the welfare of his race. The stage and the + auditorium were thronged with notables. Joseph H. Choate and Mark Twain + presided, and both spoke; also Robert C. Ogden and Booker T. Washington + himself. It was all fine and interesting. Choate's address was ably given, + and Mark Twain was at his best. He talked of politics and of morals—public + and private—how the average American citizen was true to his + Christian principles three hundred and sixty-three days in the year, and + how on the other two days of the year he left those principles at home and + went to the tax-office and the voting-booths, and did his best to damage + and undo his whole year's faithful and righteous work. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I used to be an honest man, but I am crumbling—no, I have crumbled. + When they assessed me at $75,000 a fortnight ago I went out and + tried to borrow the money and couldn't. Then when I found they were + letting a whole crowd of millionaires live in New York at a third of + the price they were charging me I was hurt, I was indignant, and + said, this is the last feather. I am not going to run this town all + by myself. In that moment—in that memorable moment, I began to + crumble. In fifteen minutes the disintegration was complete. In + fifteen minutes I was become just a mere moral sand-pile, and I + lifted up my hand, along with those seasoned and experienced + deacons, and swore off every rag of personal property I've got in + the world. +</pre> + <p> + I had never heard him address a miscellaneous audience. It was marvelous + to see how he convulsed it, and silenced it, and controlled it at will. He + did not undertake any special pleading for the negro cause; he only + prepared the way with cheerfulness. + </p> + <p> + Clemens and Choate joined forces again, a few weeks later, at a great + public meeting assembled in aid of the adult blind. Helen Keller was to be + present, but she had fallen ill through overwork. She sent to Clemens one + of her beautiful letters, in which she said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I should be happy if I could have spelled into my hand the words as + they fall from your lips, and receive, even as it is uttered, the + eloquence of our newest ambassador to the blind. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens, dictating the following morning, told of his first meeting with + Helen Keller at a little gathering in Lawrence Hutton's home, when she was + about the age of fourteen. It was an incident that invited no elaboration, + and probably received none. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Henry Rogers and I went together. The company had all assembled and + had been waiting a while. The wonderful child arrived now with her + about equally wonderful teacher, Miss Sullivan, and seemed quite + well to recognize the character of her surroundings. She said, “Oh, + the books, the books, so many, many books. How lovely!” + + The guests were brought one after another. As she shook hands with + each she took her hand away and laid her fingers lightly against + Miss Sullivan's lips, who spoke against them the person's name. + + Mr. Howells seated himself by Helen on the sofa, and she put her + fingers against his lips and he told her a story of considerable + length, and you could see each detail of it pass into her mind and + strike fire there and throw the flash of it into her face. + + After a couple of hours spent very pleasantly some one asked if + Helen would remember the feel of the hands of the company after this + considerable interval of time and be able to discriminate the hands + and name the possessors of them. Miss Sullivan said, “Oh, she will + have no difficulty about that.” So the company filed past, shook + hands in turn, and with each hand-shake Helen greeted the owner of + the hand pleasantly and spoke the name that belonged to it without + hesitation. + + By and by the assemblage proceeded to the dining-room and sat down + to the luncheon. I had to go away before it was over, and as I + passed by Helen I patted her lightly on the head and passed on. + Miss Sullivan called to me and said, “Stop, Mr. Clemens, Helen is + distressed because she did not recognize your hand. Won't you come + back and do that again?” I went back and patted her lightly on the + head, and she said at once, “Oh, it's Mr. Clemens.” + + Perhaps some one can explain this miracle, but I have never been + able to do it. Could she feel the wrinkles in my hand through her + hair? Some one else must answer this. +</pre> + <p> + It was three years following this dictation that the mystery received a + very simple and rather amusing solution. Helen had come to pay a visit to + Mark Twain's Connecticut home, Stormfield, then but just completed. He had + met her, meantime, but it had not occurred to him before to ask her how + she had recognized him that morning at Hutton's, in what had seemed such a + marvelous way. She remembered, and with a smile said: + </p> + <p> + “I smelled you.” Which, after all, did not make the incident + seem much less marvelous. + </p> + <p> + On one of the mornings after Miss Hobby had gone Clemens said: + </p> + <p> + “A very curious thing has happened—a very large-sized-joke.” + He was shaving at the time, and this information came in brief and broken + relays, suited to a performance of that sort. The reader may perhaps + imagine the effect without further indication of it. + </p> + <p> + “I was going on a yachting trip once, with Henry Rogers, when a + reporter stopped me with the statement that Mrs. Astor had said that there + had never been a gentleman in the White House, and he wanted me to give + him my definition of a gentleman. I didn't give him my definition; but he + printed it, just the same, in the afternoon paper. I was angry at first, + and wanted to bring a damage suit. When I came to read the definition it + was a satisfactory one, and I let it go. Now to-day comes a letter and a + telegram from a man who has made a will in Missouri, leaving ten thousand + dollars to provide tablets for various libraries in the State, on which + shall be inscribed Mark Twain's definition of a gentleman. He hasn't got + the definition—he has only heard of it, and he wants me to tell him + in which one of my books or speeches he can find it. I couldn't think, + when I read that letter, what in the nation the man meant, but shaving + somehow has a tendency to release thought, and just now it all came to me.” + </p> + <p> + It was a situation full of amusing possibilities; but he reached no + conclusion in the matter. Another telegram was brought in just then, which + gave a sadder aspect to his thought, for it said that his old coachman, + Patrick McAleer, who had begun in the Clemens service with the bride and + groom of thirty-six years before, was very low, and could not survive more + than a few days. This led him to speak of Patrick, his noble and faithful + nature, and how he always claimed to be in their service, even during + their long intervals of absence abroad. Clemens gave orders that + everything possible should be done for Patrick's comfort. When the end + came, a few days later, he traveled to Hartford to lay flowers on + Patrick's bier, and to serve, with Patrick's friends—neighbor + coachmen and John O'Neill, the gardener—as pall-bearer, taking his + allotted place without distinction or favor. + </p> + <p> + It was the following Sunday, at the Majestic Theater, in New York, that + Mark Twain spoke to the Young Men's Christian Association. For several + reasons it proved an unusual meeting. A large number of free tickets had + been given out, far more than the place would hold; and, further, it had + been announced that when the ticket-holders had been seated the admission + would be free to the public. The subject chosen for the talk was “Reminiscences.” + </p> + <p> + When we arrived the streets were packed from side to side for a + considerable distance and a riot was in progress. A great crowd had + swarmed about the place, and the officials, instead of throwing the doors + wide and letting the theater fill up, regardless of tickets, had locked + them. As a result there was a shouting, surging human mass that presently + dashed itself against the entrance. Windows and doors gave way, and there + followed a wild struggle for entrance. A moment later the house was packed + solid. A detachment of police had now arrived, and in time cleared the + street. It was said that amid the tumult some had lost their footing and + had been trampled and injured, but of this we did not learn until later. + We had been taken somehow to a side entrance and smuggled into boxes.—[The + paper next morning bore the head-lines: “10,000 Stampeded at the + Mark Twain Meeting. Well-dressed Men and Women Clubbed by Police at + Majestic Theater.” In this account the paper stated that the crowd + had collected an hour before the time for opening; that nothing of the + kind had been anticipated and no police preparation had been made.] + </p> + <p> + It was peaceful enough in the theater until Mark Twain appeared on the + stage. He was wildly greeted, and when he said, slowly and seriously, + “I thank you for this signal recognition of merit,” there was + a still noisier outburst. In the quiet that followed he began his + memories, and went wandering along from one anecdote to another in the + manner of his daily dictations. + </p> + <p> + At last it seemed to occur to him, in view of the character of his + audience, that he ought to close with something in the nature of counsel + suited to young men. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It is from experiences such as mine [he said] that we get our + education of life. We string them into jewels or into tinware, as + we may choose. I have received recently several letters asking for + counsel or advice, the principal request being for some incident + that may prove helpful to the young. It is my mission to teach, and + I am always glad to furnish something. There have been a lot of + incidents in my career to help me along—sometimes they helped me + along faster than I wanted to go. +</pre> + <p> + He took some papers from his pocket and started to unfold one of them; + then, as if remembering, he asked how long he had been talking. The answer + came, “Thirty-five minutes.” He made as if to leave the stage, + but the audience commanded him to go on. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” he said, “I can stand more of my own talk + than any one I ever knew.” Opening one of the papers, a telegram, he + read: + </p> + <p> + “In which one of your works can we find the definition of a + gentleman?” Then he added: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have not answered that telegram. I couldn't. I never wrote any + such definition, though it seems to me that if a man has just, + merciful, and kindly instincts he would be a gentleman, for he would + need nothing else in this world. +</pre> + <p> + He opened a letter. “From Howells,” he said. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + My old friend, William Dean Howells—Howells, the head of American + literature. No one is able to stand with him. He is an old, old + friend of mine, and he writes me, “To-morrow I shall be sixty-nine + years old.” Why, I am surprised at Howells writing so. I have + known him myself longer than that. I am sorry to see a man trying + to appear so young. Let's see. Howells says now, “I see you have + been burying Patrick. I suppose he was old, too.” + </pre> + <p> + The house became very still. Most of them had read an account of Mark + Twain's journey to Hartford and his last service to his faithful servitor. + The speaker's next words were not much above a whisper, but every syllable + was distinct. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + No, he was never old-Patrick. He came to us thirty-six years ago. + He was our coachman from the day that I drove my young bride to our + new home. He was a young Irishman, slender, tall, lithe, honest, + truthful, and he never changed in all his life. He really was with + us but twenty-five years, for he did not go with us to Europe; but + he never regarded that a separation. As the children grew up he was + their guide. He was all honor, honesty, and affection. He was with + us in New Hampshire last summer, and his hair was just as black, his + eyes were just as blue, his form just as straight, and his heart + just as good as on the day we first met. In all the long years + Patrick never made a mistake. He never needed an order; he never + received a command. He knew. I have been asked for my idea of an + ideal gentleman, and I give it to you—Patrick McAleer. +</pre> + <p> + It was the sort of thing that no one but Mark Twain has quite been able to + do, and it was just that recognized quality behind it that had made crowds + jam the street and stampede the entrance to be in his presence-to see him + and to hear his voice. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0250" id="link2H_4_0250"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXLI. GORKY, HOWELLS, AND MARK TWAIN + </h2> + <p> + Clemens was now fairly back again in the wash of banquets and + speech-making that had claimed him on his return from England, five years + before. He made no less than a dozen speeches altogether that winter, and + he was continually at some feasting or other, where he was sure to be + called upon for remarks. He fell out of the habit of preparing his + addresses, relying upon the inspiration of the moment, merely following + the procedure of his daily dictations, which had doubtless given him + confidence for this departure from his earlier method. There was seldom an + afternoon or an evening that he was not required, and seldom a morning + that the papers did not have some report of his doings. Once more, and in + a larger fashion than ever, he had become “the belle of New York.” + But he was something further. An editorial in the Evening Mail said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mark Twain, in his “last and best of life for which the first was + made,” seems to be advancing rapidly to a position which makes him a + kind of joint Aristides, Solon, and Themistocles of the American + metropolis—an Aristides for justness and boldness as well as + incessancy of opinion, a Solon for wisdom and cogency, and a + Themistocles for the democracy of his views and the popularity of + his person. + + Things have reached the point where, if Mark Twain is not at a + public meeting or banquet, he is expected to console it with one of + his inimitable letters of advice and encouragement. If he deigns to + make a public appearance there is a throng at the doors which + overtaxes the energy and ability of the police. We must be glad + that we have a public commentator like Mark Twain always at hand and + his wit and wisdom continually on tap. His sound, breezy + Mississippi Valley Americanism is a corrective to all sorts of + snobbery. He cultivates respect for human rights by always making + sure that he has his own. +</pre> + <p> + He talked one afternoon to the Barnard girls, and another afternoon to the + Women's University Club, illustrating his talk with what purported to be + moral tales. He spoke at a dinner given to City Tax Commissioner Mr. + Charles Putzel; and when he was introduced there as the man who had said, + “When in doubt tell the truth,” he replied that he had + invented that maxim for others, but that when in doubt himself, he used + more sagacity. + </p> + <p> + The speeches he made kept his hearers always in good humor; but he made + them think, too, for there was always substance and sound reason and + searching satire in the body of what he said. + </p> + <p> + It was natural that there should be reporters calling frequently at Mark + Twain's home, and now and then the place became a veritable storm-center + of news. Such a moment arrived when it became known that a public library + in Brooklyn had banished Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer from the children's + room, presided over by a young woman of rather severe morals. The incident + had begun in November of the previous year. One of the librarians, Asa Don + Dickinson, who had vigorously voted against the decree, wrote privately of + the matter. Clemens had replied: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR SIR,—I am greatly troubled by what you say. I wrote Tom + Sawyer & Huck Finn for adults exclusively, & it always distresses me + when I find that boys & girls have been allowed access to them. The + mind that becomes soiled in youth can never again be washed clean. + I know this by my own experience, & to this day I cherish an + unappeasable bitterness against the unfaithful guardians of my young + life, who not only permitted but compelled me to read an + unexpurgated Bible through before I was 15 years old. None can do + that and ever draw a clean, sweet breath again this side of the + grave. Ask that young lady—she will tell you so. + + Most honestly do I wish that I could say a softening word or two in + defense of Huck's character since you wish it, but really, in my + opinion, it is no better than those of Solomon, David, & the rest of + the sacred brotherhood. + + If there is an unexpurgated in the Children's Department, won't you + please help that young woman remove Tom & Huck from that + questionable companionship? + + Sincerely yours, + S. L. CLEMENS. + + I shall not show your letter to any one-it is safe with me. +</pre> + <p> + Mr. Dickinson naturally kept this letter from the public, though he read + it aloud to the assembled librarians, and the fact of its existence and + its character eventually leaked out.—[It has been supplied to the + writer by Mr. Dickinson, and is published here with his consent.]—One + of the librarians who had heard it mentioned it at a theater-party in + hearing of an unrealized newspaper man. This was near the end of the + following March. + </p> + <p> + The “tip” was sufficient. Telephone-bells began to jingle, and + groups of newspaper men gathered simultaneously on Mr. Dickinson's and on + Mark Twain's door-steps. At a 21 Fifth Avenue you could hardly get in or + out, for stepping on them. The evening papers surmised details, and Huck + and Tom had a perfectly fresh crop of advertising, not only in America, + but in distant lands. Dickinson wrote Clemens that he would not give out + the letter without his authority, and Clemens replied: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Be wise as a serpent and wary as a dove! The newspaper boys want + that letter—don't you let them get hold of it. They say you refuse + to allow them to see it without my consent. Keep on refusing, and + I'll take care of this end of the line. +</pre> + <p> + In a recent letter to the writer Mr. Dickinson states that Mark Twain's + solicitude was for the librarian, whom he was unwilling to involve in + difficulties with his official superiors, and he adds: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There may be some doubt as to whether Mark Twain was or was not a + religious man, for there are many definitions of the word religion. + He was certainly a hater of conventions, had no patience with + sanctimony and bibliolatry, and was perhaps irreverent. But any one + who reads carefully the description of the conflict in Huck's soul, + in regard to the betrayal of Jim, will credit the creator of the + scene with deep and true moral feeling. +</pre> + <p> + The reporters thinned out in the course of a few days when no result was + forthcoming; but they were all back again presently when the Maxim Gorky + fiasco came along. The distinguished revolutionist, Tchaykoffsky, as a + sort of advance agent for Gorky, had already called upon Clemens to enlist + his sympathy in their mission, which was to secure funds in the cause of + Russian emancipation. Clemens gave his sympathy, and now promised his aid, + though he did not hesitate to discourage the mission. He said that + American enthusiasm in such matters stopped well above their pockets, and + that this revolutionary errand would fail. Howells, too, was of this + opinion. In his account of the episode he says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I told a valued friend of his and mine that I did not believe he + could get twenty-five hundred dollars, and I think now I set the + figure too high. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens's interest, however, grew. He attended a dinner given to Gorky at + the “A Club,” No. 3 Fifth Avenue, and introduced Gorky to the + diners. Also he wrote a letter to be read by Tchaykoffsky at a meeting + held at the Grand Central Palace, where three thousand people gathered to + hear this great revolutionist recite the story of Russia's wrongs. The + letter ran: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR MR. TCHAYKOFFSKY,—My sympathies are with the Russian + revolution, of course. It goes without saying. I hope it will + succeed, and now that I have talked with you I take heart to believe + it will. Government by falsified promises, by lies, by treachery, + and by the butcher-knife, for the aggrandizement of a single family + of drones and its idle and vicious kin has been borne quite long + enough in Russia, I should think. And it is to be hoped that the + roused nation, now rising in its strength, will presently put an end + to it and set up the republic in its place. Some of us, even the + white-headed, may live to see the blessed day when tsars and grand + dukes will be as scarce there as I trust they are in heaven. + Most sincerely yours, + MARK TWAIN. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens and Howells called on Gorky and agreed to figure prominently in a + literary dinner to be given in his honor. The movement was really assuming + considerable proportions, when suddenly something happened which caused it + to flatten permanently, and rather ridiculously. + </p> + <p> + Arriving at 21 Fifth Avenue, one afternoon, I met Howells coming out. I + thought he had an unhappy, hunted look. I went up to the study, and on + opening the door I found the atmosphere semi-opaque with cigar smoke, and + Clemens among the drifting blue wreaths and layers, pacing up and down + rather fiercely. He turned, inquiringly, as I entered. I had clipped a + cartoon from a morning paper, which pictured him as upsetting the Tsar's + throne—the kind of thing he was likely to enjoy. I said: + </p> + <p> + “Here is something perhaps you may wish to see, Mr. Clemens.” + </p> + <p> + He shook his head violently. + </p> + <p> + “No, I can't see anything now,” and in another moment had + disappeared into his own room. Something extraordinary had happened. I + wondered if, after all their lifelong friendship, he and Howells had + quarreled. I was naturally curious, but it was not a good time to + investigate. By and by I went down on the street, where the newsboys were + calling extras. When I had bought one, and glanced at the first page, I + knew. Gorky had been expelled from his hotel for having brought to + America, as his wife, a woman not so recognized by the American laws. + Madame Andreieva, a Russian actress, was a leader in the cause of freedom, + and by Russian custom her relation with Gorky was recognized and + respected; but it was not sufficiently orthodox for American conventions, + and it was certainly unfortunate that an apostle of high purpose should + come handicapped in that way. Apparently the news had already reached + Howells and Clemens, and they had been feverishly discussing what was best + to do about the dinner. + </p> + <p> + Within a day or two Gorky and Madame Andreieva were evicted from a + procession of hotels, and of course the papers rang with the head-lines. + An army of reporters was chasing Clemens and Howells. The Russian + revolution was entirely forgotten in this more lively, more intimate + domestic interest. Howells came again, the reporters following and + standing guard at the door below. In 'My Mark Twain' he says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + That was the moment of the great Vesuvian eruption, and we figured + ourselves in easy reach of a volcano which was every now and then + “blowing a cone off,” as the telegraphic phrase was. The roof of + the great market in Naples had just broken in under its load of + ashes and cinders, and crushed hundreds of people; and we asked each + other if we were not sorry we had not been there, where the pressure + would have been far less terrific than it was with us in Fifth + Avenue. The forbidden butler came up with a message that there were + some gentlemen below who wanted to see Clemens. + + “How many?” he demanded. + + “Five,” the butler faltered. + + “Reporters?” + + The butler feigned uncertainty. + + “What would you do?” he asked me. + + “I wouldn't see them,” I said, and then Clemens went directly down + to them. How or by what means he appeased their voracity I cannot + say, but I fancy it was by the confession of the exact truth, which + was harmless enough. They went away joyfully, and he came back in + radiant satisfaction with having seen them. +</pre> + <p> + It is not quite clear at this time just what word was sent to Gorky but + the matter must have been settled that night, for Clemens was in a fine + humor next morning. It was before dictation time, and he came drifting + into the study and began at once to speak of the dinner and the + impossibility of its being given now. Then he said: + </p> + <p> + “American public opinion is a delicate fabric. It shrivels like the + webs of morning at the lightest touch.” + </p> + <p> + Later in the day he made this memorandum: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Laws can be evaded and punishment escaped, but an openly + transgressed custom brings sure punishment. The penalty may be + unfair, unrighteous, illogical, and a cruelty; no matter, it will be + inflicted just the same. Certainly, then, there can be but one wise + thing for a visiting stranger to do—find out what the country's + customs are and refrain from offending against them. + + The efforts which have been made in Gorky's justification are + entitled to all respect because of the magnanimity of the motive + back of them, but I think that the ink was wasted. Custom is + custom: it is built of brass, boiler-iron, granite; facts, + seasonings, arguments have no more effect upon it than the idle + winds have upon Gibraltar.—[To Dan Beard he said, “Gorky made an + awful mistake, Dan. He might as well have come over here in his + shirt-tail.”] +</pre> + <p> + The Gorky disturbance had hardly begun to subside when there came another + upheaval that snuffed it out completely. On the afternoon of the 18th of + April I heard, at The Players, a wandering telephonic rumor that a great + earthquake was going on in San Francisco. Half an hour later, perhaps, I + met Clemens coming out of No. 21. He asked: + </p> + <p> + “Have you heard the news about San Francisco?” + </p> + <p> + I said I had heard a rumor of an earthquake; and had seen an extra with + big scare-heads; but I supposed the matter was exaggerated. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, “I am afraid it isn't. We have just had a + telephone message that it is even worse than at first reported. A great + fire is consuming the city. Come along to the news-stand and we'll see if + there is a later edition.” + </p> + <p> + We walked to Sixth Avenue and Eighth Street and got some fresh extras. The + news was indeed worse, than at first reported. San Francisco was going to + destruction. Clemens was moved deeply, and began to recall this old friend + and that whose lives and property might be in danger. He spoke of Joe + Goodman and the Gillis families, and pictured conditions in the perishing + city. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0251" id="link2H_4_0251"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXLII. MARK TWAIN'S GOOD-BY TO THE PLATFORM + </h2> + <p> + It was on April 19, 1906, the day following the great earthquake, that + Mark Twain gave a “Farewell Lecture” at Carnegie Hall for the + benefit of the Robert Fulton Memorial Association. Some weeks earlier Gen. + Frederick D. Grant, its president, had proposed to pay one thousand + dollars for a Mark Twain lecture; but Clemens' had replied that he was + permanently out of the field, and would never again address any audience + that had to pay to hear him. + </p> + <p> + “I always expect to talk as long as I can get people to listen to + me,” he sand, “but I never again expect to charge for it.” + Later came one of his inspirations, and he wrote: “I will lecture + for one thousand dollars, on one condition: that it will be understood to + be my farewell lecture, and that I may contribute the thousand dollars to + the Fulton Association.” + </p> + <p> + It was a suggestion not to be discouraged, and the bills and notices, + “Mark Twain's Farewell Lecture,” were published without delay. + </p> + <p> + I first heard of the matter one afternoon when General Grant had called. + Clemens came into the study where I was working; he often wandered in and + out-sometimes without a word, sometimes to relieve himself concerning + things in general. But this time he suddenly chilled me by saying: + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to deliver my farewell lecture, and I want you to appear + on the stage and help me.” + </p> + <p> + I feebly expressed my pleasure at the prospect. Then he said: + </p> + <p> + “I am going to lecture on Fulton—on the story of his + achievements. It will be a burlesque, of course, and I am going to pretend + to forget my facts, and I want you to sit there in a chair. Now and then, + when I seem to get stuck, I'll lean over and pretend to ask you some + thing, and I want you to pretend to prompt me. You don't need to laugh, or + to pretend to be assisting in the performance any more than just that.” + HANDBILL OF MARK TWAIN'S “FAREWELL LECTURE”: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MARK TWAIN + + Will Deliver His Farewell Lecture + + + CARNEGIE HALL. + + APRIL 19TH, 1906 + + FOR THE BENEFIT OF + + Robert Fulton Memorial Association + + MILITARY ORGANIZATION OLD GUARD IN + FULL DRESS UNIFORM WILL BE PRESENT + + MUSIC BY OLD GUARD BAND + + TICKETS AND BOXES ON SALE AT CARNEGIE HALL + AND WALDORF-ASTORIA + + SEATS $1.50, $1.00, 50 CENTS +</pre> + <p> + It was not likely that I should laugh. I had a sinking feeling in the + cardiac region which does not go with mirth. It did not for the moment + occur to me that the stage would be filled with eminent citizens and + vice-presidents, and I had a vision of myself sitting there alone in the + chair in that wide emptiness, with the chief performer directing attention + to me every other moment or so, for perhaps an hour. Let me hurry on to + say that it did not happen. I dare say he realized my unfitness for the + work, and the far greater appropriateness of conferring the honor on + General Grant, for in the end he gave him the assignment, to my + immeasurable relief. + </p> + <p> + It was a magnificent occasion. That spacious hall was hung with bunting, + the stage was banked and festooned with decoration of every sort. General + Grant, surrounded by his splendidly uniformed staff, sat in the + foreground, and behind was ranged a levee of foremost citizens of the + republic. The band played “America” as Mark Twain entered, and + the great audience rose and roared out its welcome. Some of those who knew + him best had hoped that on this occasion of his last lecture he would tell + of that first appearance in San Francisco, forty years before, when his + fortunes had hung in the balance. Perhaps he did not think of it, and no + one had had the courage to suggest it. At all events, he did a different + thing. He began by making a strong plea for the smitten city where the + flames were still raging, urging prompt help for those who had lost not + only their homes, but the last shred of their belongings and their means + of livelihood. Then followed his farcical history of Fulton, with General + Grant to make the responses, and presently he drifted into the kind of + lecture he had given so often in his long trip around the world-retelling + the tales which had won him fortune and friends in many lands. + </p> + <p> + I do not know whether the entertainment was long or short. I think few + took account of time. To a letter of inquiry as to how long the + entertainment would last, he had replied: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I cannot say for sure. It is my custom to keep on talking till I + get the audience cowed. Sometimes it takes an hour and fifteen + minutes, sometimes I can do it in an hour. +</pre> + <p> + There was no indication at any time that the audience was cowed. The house + was packed, and the applause was so recurrent and continuous that often + his voice was lost to those in its remoter corners. It did not matter. The + tales were familiar to his hearers; merely to see Mark Twain, in his old + age and in that splendid setting, relating them was enough. The audience + realized that it was witnessing the close of a heroic chapter in a unique + career. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0252" id="link2H_4_0252"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXLIII. AN INVESTMENT IN REDDING + </h2> + <p> + Many of the less important happenings seem worth remembering now. Among + them was the sale, at the Nast auction, of the Mark Twain letters, already + mentioned. The fact that these letters brought higher prices than any + others offered in this sale was gratifying. Roosevelt, Grant, and even + Lincoln items were sold; but the Mark Twain letters led the list. One of + them sold for forty-three dollars, which was said to be the highest price + ever paid for the letter of a living man. It was the letter written in + 1877, quoted earlier in this work, in which Clemens proposed the lecture + tour to Nast. None of the Clemens-Nast letters brought less than + twenty-seven dollars, and some of them were very brief. It was a new + measurement of public sentiment. Clemens, when he heard of it, said: + </p> + <p> + “I can't rise to General Grant's lofty place in the estimation of + this country; but it is a deep satisfaction to me to know that when it + comes to letter-writing he can't sit in the front seat along with me. That + forty-three-dollar letter ought to be worth as much as eighty-six dollars + after I'm dead.” + </p> + <p> + A perpetual string of callers came to 21 Fifth Avenue, and it kept the + secretary busy explaining to most of them why Mark Twain could not + entertain their propositions, or listen to their complaints, or allow them + to express in person their views on public questions. He did see a great + many of what might be called the milder type persons who were evidently + sincere and not too heavily freighted with eloquence. Of these there came + one day a very gentle-spoken woman who had promised that she would stay + but a moment, and say no more than a few words, if only she might sit face + to face with the great man. It was in the morning hour before the + dictations, and he received her, quite correctly clad in his beautiful + dressing-robe and propped against his pillows. She kept her contract to + the letter; but when she rose to go she said, in a voice of deepest + reverence: + </p> + <p> + “May I kiss your hand?” + </p> + <p> + It was a delicate situation, and might easily have been made ludicrous. + Denial would have hurt her. As it was, he lifted his hand, a small, + exquisite hand it was, with the gentle dignity and poise of a king, and + she touched her lips to it with what was certainly adoration. Then, as she + went, she said: + </p> + <p> + “How God must love you!” + </p> + <p> + “I hope so,” he said, softly, and he did not even smile; but + after she had gone he could not help saying, in a quaint, half-pathetic + voice “I guess she hasn't heard of our strained relations.” + </p> + <p> + Sitting in that royal bed, clad in that rich fashion, he easily conveyed + the impression of royalty, and watching him through those marvelous + mornings he seemed never less than a king, as indeed he was—the king + of a realm without national boundaries. Some of those nearest to him fell + naturally into the habit of referring to him as “the King,” + and in time the title crept out of the immediate household and was taken + up by others who loved him. + </p> + <p> + He had been more than once photographed in his bed; but it was by those + who had come and gone in a brief time, with little chance to study his + natural attitudes. I had acquired some knowledge of the camera, and I + obtained his permission to let me photograph him—a permission he + seldom denied to any one. We had no dictations on Saturdays, and I took + the pictures on one of these holiday mornings. He was so patient and + tractable, and so natural in every attitude, that it was a delight to make + the negatives. I was afraid he would become impatient, and made fewer + exposures than I might otherwise have done. I think he expected very + little from this amateur performance; but, by that happy element of + accident which plays so large a part in photographic success, the results + were better than I had hoped for. When I brought him the prints, a few + days later, he expressed pleasure and asked, “Why didn't you make + more?” + </p> + <p> + Among them was one in an attitude which had grown so familiar to us, that + of leaning over to get his pipe from the smoking-table, and this seemed to + give him particular satisfaction. It being a holiday, he had not donned + his dressing-gown, which on the whole was well for the photographic + result. He spoke of other pictures that had been made of him, especially + denouncing one photograph, taken some twenty years before by Sarony, a + picture, as he said, of a gorilla in an overcoat, which the papers and + magazines had insisted on using ever since. + </p> + <p> + “Sarony was as enthusiastic about wild animals as he was about + photography, and when Du Chaillu brought over the first gorilla he sent + for me to look at it and see if our genealogy was straight. I said it was, + and Sarony was so excited that I had recognized the resemblance between + us, that he wanted to make it more complete, so he borrowed my overcoat + and put it on the gorilla and photographed it, and spread that picture out + over the world as mine. It turns up every week in some newspaper or + magazine; but it's not my favorite; I have tried to get it suppressed.” + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain made his first investment in Redding that spring. I had located + there the autumn before, and bought a vacant old house, with a few acres + of land, at what seemed a modest price. I was naturally enthusiastic over + the bargain, and the beauty and salubrity of the situation. His interest + was aroused, and when he learned that there was a place adjoining, equally + reasonable and perhaps even more attractive, he suggested immediately that + I buy it for him; and he wanted to write a check then for the purchase + price, for fear the opportunity might be lost. I think there was then no + purpose in his mind of building a country home; but he foresaw that such a + site, at no great distance from New York, would become more valuable, and + he had plenty of idle means. The purchase was made without difficulty—a + tract of seventy-five acres, to which presently was added another tract of + one hundred and ten acres, and subsequently still other parcels of land, + to complete the ownership of the hilltop, for it was not long until he had + conceived the idea of a home. He was getting weary of the heavy pressure + of city life. He craved the retirement of solitude—one not too far + from the maelstrom, so that he might mingle with it now and then when he + chose. The country home would not be begun for another year yet, but the + purpose of it was already in the air. No one of the family had at this + time seen the location. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0253" id="link2H_4_0253"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXLIV. TRAITS AND PHILOSOPHIES + </h2> + <p> + I brought to the dictation one morning the Omar Khayyam card which + Twichell had written him so long ago; I had found it among the letters. It + furnished him a subject for that morning. He said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + How strange there was a time when I had never heard of Omar Khayyam! + When that card arrived I had already read the dozen quatrains or so + in the morning paper, and was still steeped in the ecstasy of + delight which they occasioned. No poem had ever given me so much + pleasure before, and none has given me so much pleasure since. It + is the only poem I have ever carried about with me. It has not been + from under my hand all these years. +</pre> + <p> + He had no general fondness for poetry; but many poems appealed to him, and + on occasion he liked to read them aloud. Once, during the dictation, some + verses were sent up by a young authoress who was waiting below for his + verdict. The lines pictured a phase of negro life, and she wished to know + if he thought them worthy of being read at some Tuskegee ceremony. He did + not fancy the idea of attending to the matter just then and said: + </p> + <p> + “Tell her she can read it. She has my permission. She may commit any + crime she wishes in my name.” + </p> + <p> + It was urged that the verses were of high merit and the author a very + charming young lady. + </p> + <p> + “I'm very glad,” he said, “and I am glad the Lord made + her; I hope He will make some more just like her. I don't always approve + of His handiwork, but in this case I do.” + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly he added: + </p> + <p> + “Well, let me see it—no time like the present to get rid of + these things.” + </p> + <p> + He took the manuscript and gave such a rendition of those really fine + verses as I believe could not be improved upon. We were held breathless by + his dramatic fervor and power. He returned a message to that young + aspirant that must have made her heart sing. When the dictation had ended + that day, I mentioned his dramatic gift. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, “it is a gift, I suppose, like spelling + and punctuation and smoking. I seem to have inherited all those.” + Continuing, he spoke of inherited traits in general. + </p> + <p> + “There was Paige,” he said; “an ignorant man who could + not make a machine himself that would stand up, nor draw the working plans + for one; but he invented the eighteen thousand details of the most + wonderful machine the world has ever known. He watched over the expert + draftsmen, and superintended the building of that marvel. Pratt & + Whitney built it; but it was Paige's machine, nevertheless—the child + of his marvelous gift. We don't create any of our traits; we inherit all + of them. They have come down to us from what we impudently call the lower + animals. Man is the last expression, and combines every attribute of the + animal tribes that preceded him. One or two conspicuous traits distinguish + each family of animals from the others, and those one or two traits are + found in every member of each family, and are so prominent as to eternally + and unchangeably establish the character of that branch of the animal + world. In these cases we concede that the several temperaments constitute + a law of God, a command of God, and that whatsoever is done in obedience + to that law is blameless. Man, in his evolution, inherited the whole sum + of these numerous traits, and with each trait its share of the law of God. + He widely differs from them in this: that he possesses not a single + characteristic that is equally prominent in each member of his race. You + can say the housefly is limitlessly brave, and in saying it you describe + the whole house-fly tribe; you can say the rabbit is limitlessly timid, + and by the phrase you describe the whole rabbit tribe; you can say the + spider and the tiger are limitlessly murderous, and by that phrase you + describe the whole spider and tiger tribes; you can say the lamb is + limitlessly innocent and sweet and gentle, and by that phrase you describe + all the lambs. There is hardly a creature that you cannot definitely and + satisfactorily describe by one single trait—except man. Men are not + all cowards like the rabbit, nor all brave like the house-fly, nor all + sweet and innocent and gentle like the lamb, nor all murderous like the + spider and the tiger and the wasp, nor all thieves like the fox and the + bluejay, nor all vain like the peacock, nor all frisky like the monkey. + These things are all in him somewhere, and they develop according to the + proportion of each he received in his allotment: We describe a man by his + vicious traits and condemn him; or by his fine traits and gifts, and + praise him and accord him high merit for their possession. It is comical. + He did not invent these things; he did not stock himself with them. God + conferred them upon him in the first instant of creation. They constitute + the law, and he could not escape obedience to the decree any more than + Paige could have built the type-setter he invented, or the Pratt & + Whitney machinists could have invented the machine which they built.” + </p> + <p> + He liked to stride up and down, smoking as he talked, and generally his + words were slowly measured, with varying pauses between them. He halted in + the midst of his march, and without a suggestion of a smile added: + </p> + <p> + “What an amusing creature the human being is!” + </p> + <p> + It is absolutely impossible, of course, to preserve the atmosphere and + personality of such talks as this—the delicacies of his speech and + manner which carried an ineffable charm. It was difficult, indeed, to + record the substance. I did not know shorthand, and I should not have + taken notes at such times in any case; but I had trained myself in similar + work to preserve, with a fair degree of accuracy, the form of phrase, and + to some extent its wording, if I could get hold of pencil and paper soon + enough afterward. In time I acquired a sort of phonographic faculty; + though it always seemed to me that the bouquet, the subtleness of speech, + was lacking in the result. Sometimes, indeed, he would dictate next + morning the substance of these experimental reflections; or I would find + among his papers memoranda and fragmentary manuscripts where he had set + them down himself, either before or after he had tried them verbally. In + these cases I have not hesitated to amend my notes where it seemed to lend + reality to his utterance, though, even so, there is always lacking—and + must be—the wonder of his personality. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0254" id="link2H_4_0254"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXLV. IN THE DAY'S ROUND + </h2> + <p> + A number of dictations of this period were about Susy, her childhood, and + the biography she had written of him, most of which he included in his + chapters. More than once after such dictations he reproached himself + bitterly for the misfortunes of his house. He consoled himself a little by + saying that Susy had died at the right time, in the flower of youth and + happiness; but he blamed himself for the lack of those things which might + have made her childhood still more bright. Once he spoke of the biography + she had begun, and added: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I wish I had paid more attention to that little girl's work! If + I had only encouraged her now and then, what it would have meant to her, + and what a beautiful thing it would have been to have had her story of me + told in her own way, year after year! If I had shown her that I cared, she + might have gone on with it. We are always too busy for our children; we + never give them the time nor the interest they deserve. We lavish gifts + upon them; but the most precious gift-our personal association, which + means so much to them-we give grudgingly and throw it away on those who + care for it so little.” Then, after a moment of silence: “But + we are repaid for it at last. There comes a time when we want their + company and their interest. We want it more than anything in the world, + and we are likely to be starved for it, just as they were starved so long + ago. There is no appreciation of my books that is so precious to me as + appreciation from my children. Theirs is the praise we want, and the + praise we are least likely to get.” + </p> + <p> + His moods of remorse seemed to overwhelm him at times. He spoke of Henry's + death and little Langdon's, and charged himself with both. He declared + that for years he had filled Mrs. Clemens's life with privations, that the + sorrow of Susy's death had hastened her own end. How darkly he painted it! + One saw the jester, who for forty years had been making the world laugh, + performing always before a background of tragedy. + </p> + <p> + But such moods were evanescent. He was oftener gay than somber. One + morning before we settled down to work he related with apparent joy how he + had made a failure of story-telling at a party the night before. An artist + had told him a yarn, he said, which he had considered the most amusing + thing in the world. But he had not been satisfied with it, and had + attempted to improve on it at the party. He had told it with what he + considered the nicest elaboration of detail and artistic effect, and when + he had concluded and expected applause, only a sickening silence had + followed. + </p> + <p> + “A crowd like that can make a good deal of silence when they + combine,” he said, “and it probably lasted as long as ten + seconds, because it seemed an hour and a half. Then a lady said, with + evident feeling, 'Lord, how pathetic!' For a moment I was stupefied. Then + the fountains of my great deeps were broken up, and I rained laughter for + forty days and forty nights during as much as three minutes. By that time + I realized it was my fault. I had overdone the thing. I started in to + deceive them with elaborate burlesque pathos, in order to magnify the + humorous explosion at the end; but I had constructed such a fog of pathos + that when I got to the humor you couldn't find it.” + </p> + <p> + He was likely to begin the morning with some such incident which perhaps + he did not think worth while to include in his dictations, and sometimes + he interrupted his dictations to relate something aside, or to outline + some plan or scheme which his thought had suggested. + </p> + <p> + Once, when he was telling of a magazine he had proposed to start, the Back + Number, which was, to contain reprints of exciting events from history—newspaper + gleanings—eye-witness narrations, which he said never lost their + freshness of interest—he suddenly interrupted himself to propose + that we start such a magazine in the near future—he to be its + publisher and I its editor. I think I assented, and the dictation + proceeded, but the scheme disappeared permanently. + </p> + <p> + He usually had a number of clippings or slips among the many books on the + bed beside him from which he proposed to dictate each day, but he seldom + could find the one most needed. Once, after a feverishly impatient search + for a few moments, he invited Miss Hobby to leave the room temporarily, + so, as he said, that he might swear. He got up and we began to explore the + bed, his profanity increasing amazingly with each moment. It was an + enormously large bed, and he began to disparage the size of it. + </p> + <p> + “One could lose a dog in this bed,” he declared. + </p> + <p> + Finally I suggested that he turn over the clipping which he had in his + hand. He did so, and it proved to be the one he wanted. Its discovery was + followed by a period of explosions, only half suppressed as to volume. + Then he said: + </p> + <p> + “There ought to be a room in this house to swear in. It's dangerous + to have to repress an emotion like that.” + </p> + <p> + A moment later, when Miss Hobby returned, he was serene and happy again. + He was usually gentle during the dictations, and patient with those around + him—remarkably so, I thought, as a rule. But there were moments that + involved risk. He had requested me to interrupt his dictation at any time + that I found him repeating or contradicting himself, or misstating some + fact known to me. At first I hesitated to do this, and cautiously + mentioned the matter when he had finished. Then he was likely to say: + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you stop me? Why did you let me go on making a jackass + of myself when you could have saved me?” + </p> + <p> + So then I used to take the risk of getting struck by lightning, and nearly + always stopped him at the time. But if it happened that I upset his + thought the thunderbolt was apt to fly. He would say: + </p> + <p> + “Now you've knocked everything out of my head.” + </p> + <p> + Then, of course, I would apologize and say I was sorry, which would + rectify matters, though half an hour later it might happen again. I became + lightning-proof at last; also I learned better to select the psychological + moment for the correction. + </p> + <p> + There was a humorous complexion to the dictations which perhaps I have not + conveyed to the reader at all; humor was his natural breath and life, and + was not wholly absent in his most somber intervals. + </p> + <p> + But poetry was there as well. His presence was full of it: the grandeur of + his figure; the grace of his movement; the music of his measured speech. + Sometimes there were long pauses when he was wandering in distant valleys + of thought and did not speak at all. At such times he had a habit of + folding and refolding the sleeve of his dressing-gown around his wrist, + regarding it intently, as it seemed. His hands were so fair and shapely; + the palms and finger-tips as pink as those of a child. Then when he spoke + he was likely to fling back his great, white mane, his eyes half closed + yet showing a gleam of fire between the lids, his clenched fist lifted, or + his index-finger pointing, to give force and meaning to his words. I + cannot recall the picture too often, or remind myself too frequently how + precious it was to be there, and to see him and to hear him. I do not know + why I have not said before that he smoked continually during these + dictations—probably as an aid to thought—though he smoked at + most other times, for that matter. His cigars were of that delicious + fragrance which characterizes domestic tobacco; but I had learned early to + take refuge in another brand when he offered me one. They were black and + strong and inexpensive, and it was only his early training in the + printing-office and on the river that had seasoned him to tobacco of that + temper. Rich, admiring friends used to send him quantities of expensive + imported cigars; but he seldom touched them, and they crumbled away or + were smoked by visitors. Once, to a minister who proposed to send him + something very special, he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I should accept your hospitable offer at once but for the fact that + I couldn't do it and remain honest. That is to say, if I allowed + you to send me what you believed to be good cigars it would + distinctly mean that I meant to smoke them, whereas I should do + nothing of the kind. I know a good cigar better than you do, for I + have had 60 years' experience. + + No, that is not what I mean; I mean I know a bad cigar better than + anybody else. I judge by the price only; if it costs above 5 cents + I know it to be either foreign or half foreign & unsmokable—by me. + I have many boxes of Havana cigars, of all prices from 20 cents + apiece up to $1.66 apiece; I bought none of them, they were all + presents; they are an accumulation of several years. I have never + smoked one of them & never shall; I work them off on the visitor. + You shall have a chance when you come. +</pre> + <p> + He smoked a pipe a good deal, and he preferred it to be old and violent; + and once, when he had bought a new, expensive English brier-root he + regarded it doubtfully for a time, and then handed it over to me, saying: + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to have you smoke that a year or two, and when it gets so + you can't stand it, maybe it will suit me.” + </p> + <p> + I am happy to add that subsequently he presented me with the pipe + altogether, for it apparently never seemed to get qualified for his taste, + perhaps because the tobacco used was too mild. + </p> + <p> + One day, after the dictation, word was brought up that a newspaper man was + down-stairs who wished to see him concerning a report that Chauncey Depew + was to resign his Senatorial seat and Mark Twain was to be nominated in + his place. The fancy of this appealed to him, and the reporter was allowed + to come up. He was a young man, and seemed rather nervous, and did not + wish to state where the report had originated. His chief anxiety was + apparently to have Mark Twain's comment on the matter. Clemens said very + little at the time. He did not wish to be a Senator; he was too busy just + now dictating biography, and added that he didn't think he would care for + the job, anyway. When the reporter was gone, however, certain humorous + possibilities developed. The Senatorship would be a stepping-stone to the + Presidency, and with the combination of humorist, socialist, and + peace-patriot in the Presidential chair the nation could expect an + interesting time. Nothing further came of the matter. There was no such + report. The young newspaper man had invented the whole idea to get a + “story” out of Mark Twain. The item as printed next day + invited a good deal of comment, and Collier's Weekly made it a text for an + editorial on his mental vigor and general fitness for the place. + </p> + <p> + If it happened that he had no particular engagement for the afternoon, he + liked to walk out, especially when the pleasant weather came. Sometimes we + walked up Fifth Avenue, and I must admit that for a good while I could not + get rid of a feeling of self-consciousness, for most people turned to + look, though I was fully aware that I did not in the least come into their + scope of vision. They saw only Mark Twain. The feeling was a more + comfortably one at The Players, where we sometimes went for luncheon, for + the acquaintance there and the democracy of that institution had a + tendency to eliminate contrasts and incongruities. We sat at the Round + Table among those good fellows who were always so glad to welcome him. + </p> + <p> + Once we went to the “Music Master,” that tender play of + Charles Klein's, given by that matchless interpreter, David Warfield. + Clemens was fascinated, and said more than once: + </p> + <p> + “It is as permanent as 'Rip Van Winkle.' Warfield, like Jefferson, + can go on playing it all his life.” + </p> + <p> + We went behind when it was over, and I could see that Warfield glowed with + Mark Twain's unstinted approval. Later, when I saw him at The Players, he + declared that no former compliment had ever made him so happy. + </p> + <p> + There were some billiard games going on between the champions Hoppe and + Sutton, at the Madison Square Garden, and Clemens, with his eager fondness + for the sport, was anxious to attend them. He did not like to go anywhere + alone, and one evening he invited me to accompany him. Just as he stepped + into the auditorium there was a vigorous round of applause. The players + stopped, somewhat puzzled, for no especially brilliant shot had been made. + Then they caught the figure of Mark Twain and realized that the game, for + the moment, was not the chief attraction. The audience applauded again, + and waved their handkerchiefs. Such a tribute is not often paid to a + private citizen. + </p> + <p> + Clemens had a great admiration for the young champion Hoppe, which the + billiardist's extreme youth and brilliancy invited, and he watched his + game with intense eagerness. When it was over the referee said a few words + and invited Mark Twain to speak. He rose and told them a story-probably + invented on the instant. He said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Once in Nevada I dropped into a billiard-room casually, and picked + up a cue and began to knock the balls around. The proprietor, who + was a red-haired man, with such hair as I have never seen anywhere + except on a torch, asked me if I would like to play. I said, 'Yes.' + He said, 'Knock the balls around a little and let me see how you can + shoot.' So I knocked them around, and thought I was doing pretty + well, when he said, 'That's all right; I'll play you left-handed.' + It hurt my pride, but I played him. We banked for the shot and he + won it. Then he commenced to play, and I commenced to chalk my cue + to get ready to play, and he went on playing, and I went on chalking + my cue; and he played and I chalked all through that game. When he + had run his string out I said: + + “That's wonderful! perfectly wonderful! If you can play that way + left-handed what could you do right-handed?' + + “'Couldn't do anything,' he said. 'I'm a left-handed man.'” + </pre> + <p> + How it delighted them! I think it was the last speech of any sort he made + that season. A week or two later he went to Dublin, New Hampshire, for the + summer—this time to the Upton House, which had been engaged a year + before, the Copley Greene place being now occupied by its owner. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0255" id="link2H_4_0255"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXLVI. THE SECOND SUMMER AT DUBLIN + </h2> + <p> + The Upton House stands on the edge of a beautiful beech forest some two or + three miles from Dublin, just under Monadnock—a good way up the + slope. It is a handsome, roomy frame-house, and had a long colonnaded + veranda overlooking one of the most beautiful landscape visions on the + planet: lake, forest, hill, and a far range of blue mountains—all + the handiwork of God is there. I had seen these things in paintings, but I + had not dreamed that such a view really existed. The immediate foreground + was a grassy slope, with ancient, blooming apple-trees; and just at the + right hand Monadnock rose, superb and lofty, sloping down to the panorama + below that stretched away, taking on an ever deeper blue, until it reached + that remote range on which the sky rested and the world seemed to end. It + was a masterpiece of the Greater Mind, and of the highest order, perhaps, + for it had in it nothing of the touch of man. A church spire glinted here + and there, but there was never a bit of field, or stone wall, or + cultivated land. It was lonely; it was unfriendly; it cared nothing + whatever for humankind; it was as if God, after creating all the world, + had wrought His masterwork here, and had been so engrossed with the beauty + of it that He had forgotten to give it a soul. In a sense this was true, + for He had not made the place suitable for the habitation of men. It + lacked the human touch; the human interest, and I could never quite + believe in its reality. + </p> + <p> + The time of arrival heightened this first impression. It was mid-May and + the lilacs were prodigally in bloom; but the bright sunlight was chill and + unnatural, and there was a west wind that laid the grass flat and moaned + through the house, and continued as steadily as if it must never stop from + year's end to year's end. It seemed a spectral land, a place of + supernatural beauty. Warm, still, languorous days would come, but that + first feeling of unreality would remain permanent. I believe Jean Clemens + was the only one who ever really loved the place. Something about it + appealed to her elemental side and blended with her melancholy moods. She + dressed always in white, and she was tall and pale and classically + beautiful, and she was often silent, like a spirit. She had a little + retreat for herself farther up the mountain-side, and spent most of her + days there wood-carving, which was her chief diversion. + </p> + <p> + Clara Clemens did not come to the place at all. She was not yet strong, + and went to Norfolk, Connecticut, where she could still be in quiet + retirement and have her physician's care. Miss Hobby came, and on the 21st + of May the dictations were resumed. We began in his bedroom, as before, + but the feeling there was depressing—the absence of the great carved + bed and other furnishings, which had been so much a part of the picture, + was felt by all of us. Nothing of the old luxury and richness was there. + It was a summer-furnished place, handsome but with the customary bareness. + At the end of this first session he dressed in his snowy flannels, which + he had adopted in the place of linen for summer wear, and we descended to + the veranda and looked out over that wide, wonderful expanse of scenery. + </p> + <p> + “I think I shall like it,” he said, “when I get + acquainted with it, and get it classified and labeled, and I think we'll + do our dictating out here hereafter. It ought to be an inspiring place.” + </p> + <p> + So the dictations were transferred to the long veranda, and he was + generally ready for them, a white figure pacing up and down before that + panoramic background. During the earlier, cooler weeks he usually + continued walking with measured step during the dictations, pausing now + and then to look across the far-lying horizon. When it stormed we moved + into the great living-room, where at one end there was a fireplace with + blazing logs, and at the other the orchestrelle, which had once more been + freighted up those mountain heights for the comfort of its harmonies. + Sometimes, when the wind and rain were beating outside, and he was + striding up and down the long room within, with only the blurred shapes of + mountains and trees outlined through the trailing rain, the feeling of the + unreality became so strong that it was hard to believe that somewhere down + below, beyond the rain and the woods, there was a literal world—a + commonplace world, where the ordinary things of life were going on in the + usual way. When the dictation finished early, there would be music—the + music that he loved most—Beethoven's symphonies, or the Schubert + impromptu, or the sonata by Chopin.—[Schubert, Op. 142, No. 2; + Chopin, Op. 37, No. 2.]—It is easy to understand that this carried + one a remove farther from the customary things of life. It was a setting + far out of the usual, though it became that unique white figure and his + occupation. In my notes, made from day to day, I find that I have set down + more than once an impression of the curious unreality of the place and its + surroundings, which would show that it was not a mere passing fancy. + </p> + <p> + I had lodgings in the village, and drove out mornings for the dictations, + but often came out again afoot on pleasant afternoons; for he was not much + occupied with social matters, and there was opportunity for quiet, + informing interviews. There was a woods path to the Upton place, and it + was a walk through a fairyland. A part of the way was through such a + growth of beech timber as I have never seen elsewhere: tall, straight, + mottled trees with an undergrowth of laurel, the sunlight sifting through; + one found it easy to expect there storybook ladies, wearing crowns and + green mantles, riding on white palfreys. Then came a more open way, an + abandoned grass-grown road full of sunlight and perfume; and this led to a + dim, religious place, a natural cathedral, where the columns were stately + pine-trees branching and meeting at the top: a veritable temple in which + it always seemed that music was about to play. You crossed a brook and + climbed a little hill, and pushed through a hedge into a place more open, + and the house stood there among the trees. + </p> + <p> + The days drifted along, one a good deal like another, except, as the + summer deepened, the weather became warmer, the foliage changed, a drowsy + haze gathered along the valleys and on the mountain-side. He sat more + often now in a large rocking-chair, and generally seemed to be looking + through half-dosed lids toward the Monadnock heights, that were always + changing in aspect-in color and in form—as cloud shapes drifted by + or gathered in those lofty hollows. White and yellow butterflies hovered + over the grass, and there were some curious, large black ants—the + largest I have ever seen and quite harmless—that would slip in and + out of the cracks on the veranda floor, wholly undisturbed by us. Now and + then a light flutter of wind would come murmuring up from the trees below, + and when the apple-bloom was falling there would be a whirl of white and + pink petals that seemed a cloud of smaller butterflies. + </p> + <p> + On June 1st I find in my note-book this entry: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Warm and pleasant. The dictation about Grant continues; a great + privilege to hear this foremost man, of letters review his + associations with that foremost man of arms. He remained seated + today, dressed in white as usual, a large yellow pansy in his + buttonhole, his white hair ruffled by the breeze. He wears his worn + morocco slippers with black hose; sits in the rocker, smoking and + looking out over the hazy hills, delivering his sentences with a + measured accuracy that seldom calls for change. He is speaking just + now of a Grant dinner which he attended where Depew spoke. One is + impressed with the thought that we are looking at and listening to + the war-worn veteran of a thousand dinners—the honored guest of + many; an honored figure of all. Earlier, when he had been + chastising some old offender, he added, “However, he's dead, and I + forgive him.” Then, after a moment's reflection, “No; strike that + last sentence out.” When we laughed, he added, “We can't forgive + him yet.” + </pre> + <p> + A few days later—it was June 4th, the day before the second + anniversary of the death of Mrs. Clemens—we found him at first in + excellent humor from the long dictation of the day before. Then his mind + reverted to the tragedy of the season, and he began trying to tell of it. + It was hard work. He walked back and forth in the soft sunlight, saying + almost nothing. He gave it up at last, remarking, “We will not work + to-morrow.” So we went away. + </p> + <p> + He did not dictate on the 5th or the 6th, but on the 7th he resumed the + story of Mrs. Clemens's last days at Florence. The weather had changed: + the sunlight and warmth had all gone; a chill, penetrating mist was on the + mountains; Monadnock was blotted out. We expected him to go to the fire, + but evidently he could not bear being shut in with that subject in his + mind. A black cape was brought out and thrown about his shoulders, which + seemed to fit exactly into the somberness of the picture. For two hours or + more we sat there in the gloom and chill, while he paced up and down, + detailing as graphically as might be that final chapter in the life of the + woman he had loved. + </p> + <p> + It is hardly necessary to say that beyond the dictation Clemens did very + little literary work during these months. He had brought his “manuscript + trunk” as usual, thinking, perhaps, to finish the “microbe” + story and other of the uncompleted things; but the dictation gave him + sufficient mental exercise, and he did no more than look over his “stock + in trade,” as he called it, and incorporate a few of the finished + manuscripts into “autobiography.” Among these were the notes + of his trip down the Rhone, made in 1891, and the old Stormfield story, + which he had been treasuring and suppressing so long. He wrote Howells in + June: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The dictating goes lazily and pleasantly on. With intervals. I + find that I've been at it, off & on, nearly two hours for 155 days + since January 9. To be exact, I've dictated 75 hours in 80 days & + loafed 75 days. I've added 60,000 words in the month that I've been + here; which indicates that I've dictated during 20 days of that + time—40 hours, at an average of 1,500 words an hour. It's a + plenty, & I'm satisfied. + + There's a good deal of “fat.” I've dictated (from January 9) + 210,000 words, & the “fat” adds about 50,000 more. + + The “fat” is old pigeonholed things of the years gone by which I or + editors didn't das't to print. For instance, I am dumping in the + little old book which I read to you in Hartford about 30 years ago & + which you said “publish & ask Dean Stanley to furnish an + introduction; he'll do it” (Captain Stormfield's Visit to Heaven). + It reads quite to suit me without altering a word now that it isn't + to see print until I am dead. + + To-morrow I mean to dictate a chapter which will get my heirs & + assigns burned alive if they venture to print it this side of A.D. + 2006—which I judge they won't. There'll be lots of such chapters + if I live 3 or 4 years longer. The edition of A.D. 2006 will make a + stir when it comes out. I shall be hovering around taking notice, + along with other dead pals. You are invited. +</pre> + <p> + The chapter which was to invite death at the stake for his successors was + naturally one of religious heresies a violent attack on the orthodox, + scriptural God, but really an expression of the highest reverence for the + God which, as he said, had created the earth and sky and the music of the + constellations. Mark Twain once expressed himself concerning reverence and + the lack of it: + </p> + <p> + “I was never consciously and purposely irreverent in my life, yet + one person or another is always charging me with a lack of reverence. + Reverence for what—for whom? Who is to decide what ought to command + my reverence—my neighbor or I? I think I ought to do the electing + myself. The Mohammedan reveres Mohammed—it is his privilege; the + Christian doesn't—apparently that is his privilege; the account is + square enough. They haven't any right to complain of the other, yet they + do complain of each other, and that is where the unfairness comes in. Each + says that the other is irreverent, and both are mistaken, for manifestly + you can't have reverence for a thing that doesn't command it. If you could + do that you could digest what you haven't eaten, and do other miracles and + get a reputation.” + </p> + <p> + He was not reading many books at this time—he was inclined rather to + be lazy, as he said, and to loaf during the afternoons; but I remember + that he read aloud 'After the Wedding' and 'The Mother'—those two + beautiful word-pictures by Howells—which he declared sounded the + depths of humanity with a deep-sea lead. Also he read a book by William + Allen White, 'In Our Town', a collection of tales that he found most + admirable. I think he took the trouble to send White a personal, + hand-written letter concerning them, although, with the habit of + dictation, he had begun, as he said, to “loathe the use of the pen.” + </p> + <p> + There were usually some sort of mild social affairs going on in the + neighborhood, luncheons and afternoon gatherings like those of the + previous year, though he seems to have attended fewer of them, for he did + not often leave the house. Once, at least, he assisted in an afternoon + entertainment at the Dublin Club, where he introduced his invention of the + art of making an impromptu speech, and was assisted in its demonstration + by George de Forest Brush and Joseph Lindon Smith, to the very great + amusement of a crowd of summer visitors. The “art” consisted + mainly of having on hand a few reliable anecdotes and a set formula which + would lead directly to them from any given subject. + </p> + <p> + Twice or more he collected the children of the neighborhood for charades + and rehearsed them, and took part in the performance, as in the Hartford + days. Sometimes he drove out or took an extended walk. But these things + were seldom. + </p> + <p> + Now and then during the summer he made a trip to New York of a + semi-business nature, usually going by the way of Fairhaven, where he + would visit for a few days, journeying the rest of the way in Mr. Rogers's + yacht. Once they made a cruise of considerable length to Bar Harbor and + elsewhere. Here is an amusing letter which he wrote to Mrs. Rogers after + such a visit: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR MRS. ROGERS,—In packing my things in your house yesterday + morning I inadvertently put in some articles that was laying around, + I thinking about theology & not noticing, the way this family does + in similar circumstances like these. Two books, Mr. Rogers' brown + slippers, & a ham. I thought it was ourn, it looks like one we used + to have. I am very sorry it happened, but it sha'n't occur again & + don't you worry. He will temper the wind to the shorn lamb & I will + send some of the things back anyway if there is some that won't + keep. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0256" id="link2H_4_0256"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXLVI. DUBLIN, CONTINUED + </h2> + <p> + In time Mark Twain became very lonely in Dublin. After the brilliant + winter the contrast was too great. He was not yet ready for exile. In one + of his dictations he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The skies are enchantingly blue. The world is a dazzle of sunshine. + Monadnock is closer to us than usual by several hundred yards. The + vast extent of spreading valley is intensely green—the lakes as + intensely blue. And there is a new horizon, a remoter one than we + have known before, for beyond the mighty half-circle of hazy + mountains that form the usual frame of the picture rise certain + shadowy great domes that are unfamiliar to our eyes.... + + But there is a defect—only one, but it is a defect which almost + entitles it to be spelled with a capital D. This is the defect of + loneliness. We have not a single neighbor who is a neighbor. + Nobody lives within two miles of us except Franklin MacVeagh, and he + is the farthest off of any, because he is in Europe.... + + I feel for Adam and Eve now, for I know how it was with them. I am + existing, broken-hearted, in a Garden of Eden.... The Garden of + Eden I now know was an unendurable solitude. I know that the advent + of the serpent was a welcome change—anything for society.... + + I never rose to the full appreciation of the utter solitude of this + place until a symbol of it—a compact and visible allegory of it + —furnished me the lacking lift three days ago. I was standing alone + on this veranda, in the late afternoon, mourning over the stillness, + the far-spreading, beautiful desolation, and the absence of visible + life, when a couple of shapely and graceful deer came sauntering + across the grounds and stopped, and at their leisure impudently + looked me over, as if they had an idea of buying me as bric-a-brac. + Then they seemed to conclude that they could do better for less + money elsewhere, and they sauntered indolently away and disappeared + among the trees. It sized up this solitude. It is so complete, so + perfect, that even the wild animals are satisfied with it. Those + dainty creatures were not in the least degree afraid of me. +</pre> + <p> + This was no more than a mood—though real enough while it lasted—somber, + and in its way regal. It was the loneliness of a king—King Lear. Yet + he returned gladly enough to solitude after each absence. + </p> + <p> + It was just before one of his departures that I made another set of + pictures of him, this time on the colonnaded veranda, where his figure had + become so familiar. He had determined to have his hair cut when he reached + New York, and I was anxious to get the pictures before this happened. When + the proofs came seven of them—he arranged them as a series to + illustrate what he called “The Progress of a Moral Purpose.” + He ordered a number of sets of this series, and he wrote a legend on each + photograph, numbering them from 1 to 7, laying each set in a sheet of + letter-paper which formed a sort of wrapper, on which was written: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + This series of q photographs registers with scientific precision, + stage by stage, the progress of a moral purpose through the + mind of the human race's Oldest Friend. S. L. C. +</pre> + <p> + He added a personal inscription, and sent one to each of his more intimate + friends. One of the pictures amused him more than the others, because + during the exposure a little kitten, unnoticed, had walked into it, and + paused near his foot. He had never outgrown his love for cats, and he had + rented this kitten and two others for the summer from a neighbor. He + didn't wish to own them, he said, for then he would have to leave them + behind uncared for, so he preferred to rent them and pay sufficiently to + insure their subsequent care. These kittens he called Sackcloth and Ashes—Ashes + being the joint name of the two that looked exactly alike, and so did not + need distinctive titles. Their gambols always amused him. He would stop + any time in the midst of dictation to enjoy them. Once, as he was about to + enter the screen-door that led into the hall, two of the kittens ran up in + front of him and stood waiting. With grave politeness he opened the door, + made a low bow, and stepped back and said: “Walk in, gentlemen. I + always give precedence to royalty.” And the kittens marched in, + tails in air. All summer long they played up and down the wide veranda, or + chased grasshoppers and butterflies down the clover slope. It was a + never-ending amusement to him to see them jump into the air after some + insect, miss it and tumble back, and afterward jump up, with a surprised + expression and a look of disappointment and disgust. I remember once, when + he was walking up and down discussing some very serious subject—and + one of the kittens was lying on the veranda asleep—a butterfly came + drifting along three feet or so above the floor. The kitten must have got + a glimpse of the insect out of the corner of its eye, and perhaps did not + altogether realize its action. At all events, it suddenly shot straight up + into the air, exactly like a bounding rubber ball, missed the butterfly, + fell back on the porch floor with considerable force and with much + surprise. Then it sprang to its feet, and, after spitting furiously once + or twice, bounded away. Clemens had seen the performance, and it + completely took his subject out of his mind. He laughed extravagantly, and + evidently cared more for that moment's entertainment than for many + philosophies. + </p> + <p> + In that remote solitude there was one important advantage—there was + no procession of human beings with axes to grind, and few curious callers. + Occasionally an automobile would find its way out there and make a circuit + of the drive, but this happened too seldom to annoy him. Even newspaper + men rarely made the long trip from Boston or New York to secure his + opinions, and when they came it was by permission and appointment. + Newspaper telegrams arrived now and then, asking for a sentiment on some + public condition or event, and these he generally answered willingly + enough. When the British Premier, Campbell-Bannerman, celebrated his + seventieth birthday, the London Tribune and the New York Herald requested + a tribute. He furnished it, for Bannerman was a very old friend. He had + known him first at Marienbad in '91, and in Vienna in '98, in daily + intercourse, when they had lived at the same hotel. His tribute ran: + </p> + <p> + To HIS EXCELLENCY THE BRITISH PREMIER,—Congratulations, not + condolences. Before seventy we are merely respected, at best, and we have + to behave all the time, or we lose that asset; but after seventy we are + respected, esteemed, admired, revered, and don't have to behave unless we + want to. When I first knew you, Honored Sir, one of us was hardly even + respected. MARK TWAIN. + </p> + <p> + He had some misgivings concerning the telegram after it had gone, but he + did not recall it. + </p> + <p> + Clemens became the victim of a very clever hoax that summer. One day a + friend gave him two examples of the most deliciously illiterate letters, + supposed to have been written by a woman who had contributed certain + articles of clothing to the San Francisco sufferers, and later wished to + recall them because of the protests of her household. He was so sure that + the letters were genuine that he included them in his dictations, after + reading them aloud with great effect. To tell the truth, they did seem the + least bit too well done, too literary in their illiteracy; but his natural + optimism refused to admit of any suspicion, and a little later he + incorporated one of the Jennie Allen letters in a speech which he made at + a Press Club dinner in New York on the subject of simplified spelling—offering + it as an example of language with phonetic brevity exercising its supreme + function, the direct conveyance of ideas. The letters, in the end, proved + to be the clever work of Miss Grace Donworth, who has since published them + serially and in book form. Clemens was not at all offended or disturbed by + the exposure. He even agreed to aid the young author in securing a + publisher, and wrote to Miss Stockbridge, through whom he had originally + received the documents: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR MISS STOCKBRIDGE (if she really exists), + + 257 Benefit Street (if there is any such place): + + Yes, I should like a copy of that other letter. This whole fake is + delightful; & I tremble with fear that you are a fake yourself & + that I am your guileless prey. (But never mind, it isn't any + matter.) + + Now as to publication—— +</pre> + <p> + He set forth his views and promised his assistance when enough of the + letters should be completed. + </p> + <p> + Clemens allowed his name to be included with the list of spelling + reformers, but he never employed any of the reforms in his letters or + writing. His interest was mainly theoretical, and when he wrote or spoke + on the subject his remarks were not likely to be testimonials in its + favor. His own theory was that the alphabet needed reform, first of all, + so that each letter or character should have one sound, and one sound + only; and he offered as a solution of this an adaptation of shorthand. He + wrote and dictated in favor of this idea to the end of his life. Once he + said: + </p> + <p> + “Our alphabet is pure insanity. It can hardly spell any large word + in the English language with any degree of certainty. Its sillinesses are + quite beyond enumeration. English orthography may need reforming and + simplifying, but the English alphabet needs it a good many times as much.” + </p> + <p> + He would naturally favor simplicity in anything. I remember him reading, + as an example of beautiful English, The Death of King Arthur, by Sir + Thomas Malory, and his verdict: + </p> + <p> + “That is one of the most beautiful things ever written in English, + and written when we had no vocabulary.” + </p> + <p> + “A vocabulary, then, is sometimes a handicap?” + </p> + <p> + “It is indeed.” + </p> + <p> + Still I think it was never a handicap with him, but rather the plumage of + flight. Sometimes, when just the right word did not come, he would turn + his head a little at different angles, as if looking about him for the + precise term. He would find it directly, and it was invariably the word + needed. Most writers employ, now and again, phrases that do not sharply + present the idea—that blur the picture like a poor opera-glass. Mark + Twain's English always focused exactly. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0257" id="link2H_4_0257"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXLVIII. “WHAT IS MAN?” AND THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY + </h2> + <p> + Clemens decided to publish anonymously, or, rather, to print privately, + the Gospel, which he had written in Vienna some eight years before and + added to from time to time. He arranged with Frank Doubleday to take + charge of the matter, and the De Vinne Press was engaged to do the work. + The book was copyrighted in the name of J. W. Bothwell, the superintendent + of the De Vinne company, and two hundred and fifty numbered copies were + printed on hand-made paper, to be gradually distributed to intimate + friends.—[In an introductory word (dated February, 1905) the author + states that the studies for these papers had been made twenty-five or + twenty-seven years before. He probably referred to the Monday Evening Club + essay, “What Is Happiness?” (February, 1883). See chap. cxli.]—A + number of the books were sent to newspaper reviewers, and so effectually + had he concealed the personality of his work that no critic seems to have + suspected the book's authorship. It was not over-favorably received. It + was generally characterized as a clever, and even brilliant, expose of + philosophies which were no longer startlingly new. The supremacy of + self-interest and “man the irresponsible machine” are the main + features of 'What Is Man' and both of these and all the rest are + comprehended in his wider and more absolute doctrine of that inevitable + life-sequence which began with the first created spark. There can be no + training of the ideals, “upward and still upward,” no + selfishness and unselfishness, no atom of voluntary effort within the + boundaries of that conclusion. Once admitting the postulate, that + existence is merely a sequence of cause and effect beginning with the + primal atom, and we have a theory that must stand or fall as a whole. We + cannot say that man is a creature of circumstance and then leave him free + to select his circumstance, even in the minutest fractional degree. It was + selected for him with his disposition; in that first instant of created + life. Clemens himself repeatedly emphasized this doctrine, and once, when + it was suggested to him that it seemed to “surround every thing, + like the sky,” he answered: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, like the sky; you can't break through anywhere.” + </p> + <p> + Colonel Harvey came to Dublin that summer and persuaded Clemens to let him + print some selections from the dictations in the new volume of the North + American Review, which he proposed to issue fortnightly. The matter was + discussed a good deal, and it was believed that one hundred thousand words + could be selected which would be usable forthwith, as well as in that + long-deferred period for which it was planned. Colonel Harvey agreed to + take a copy of the dictated matter and make the selections himself, and + this plan was carried out. It may be said that most of the chapters were + delightful enough; though, had it been possible to edit them with the more + positive documents as a guide, certain complications might have been + avoided. It does not matter now, and it was not a matter of very wide + import then. + </p> + <p> + The payment of these chapters netted Clemens thirty thousand dollars—a + comfortable sum, which he promptly proposed to spend in building on the + property at Redding. He engaged John Mead Howells to prepare some + preliminary plans. + </p> + <p> + Clara Clemens, at Norfolk, was written to of the matter. + </p> + <p> + A little later I joined her in Redding, and she was the first of the + family to see that beautiful hilltop. She was well pleased with the + situation, and that day selected the spot where the house should stand. + Clemens wrote Howells that he proposed to call it “Autobiography + House,” as it was to be built out of the Review money, and he said: + </p> + <p> + “If you will build on my farm and live there it will set Mrs. + Howells's health up for sure. Come and I'll sell you the site for + twenty-five dollars. John will tell you it is a choice place.” + </p> + <p> + The unusual summer was near its close. In my notebook, under date of + September 16th, appears this entry: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Windy in valleys but not cold. This veranda is protected. It is + peaceful here and perfect, but we are at the summer's end. +</pre> + <p> + This is my last entry, and the dictations must have ceased a few days + later. I do not remember the date of the return to New York, and + apparently I made no record of it; but I do not think it could have been + later than the 20th. It had been four months since the day of arrival, a + long, marvelous summer such as I would hardly know again. When I think of + that time I shall always hear the ceaseless slippered, shuffling walk, and + see the white figure with its rocking, rolling movement passing up and + down the long gallery, with that preternaturally beautiful landscape + behind, and I shall hear his deliberate speech—always deliberate, + save at rare intervals; always impressive, whatever the subject might be; + whether recalling some old absurdity of youth, or denouncing orthodox + creeds, or detailing the shortcomings of human-kind. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0258" id="link2H_4_0258"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXLIX. BILLIARDS + </h2> + <p> + The return to New York marked the beginning of a new era in my relations + with Mark Twain. I have not meant to convey up to this time that there was + between us anything resembling a personal friendship. Our relations were + friendly, certainly, but they were relations of convenience and mainly of + a business, or at least of a literary nature. He was twenty-six years my + senior, and the discrepancy of experience and attainments was not + measurable. With such conditions friendship must be a deliberate growth; + something there must be to bridge the dividing gulf. Truth requires the + confession that, in this case, the bridge took a very solid, material + form, it being, in fact, nothing less than a billiard-table.—[Clemens + had been without a billiard-table since 1891, the old one having been + disposed of on the departure from Hartford.] + </p> + <p> + It was a present from Mrs. Henry H. Rogers, and had been intended for his + Christmas; but when he heard of it he could not wait, and suggested + delicately that if he had it “right now” he could begin using + it sooner. So he went one day with Mr. Rogers to the Balke-Collender + Company, and they selected a handsome combination table suitable to all + games—the best that money could buy. He was greatly excited over the + prospect, and his former bedroom was carefully measured, to be certain + that it was large enough for billiard purposes. Then his bed was moved + into the study, and the bookcases and certain appropriate pictures were + placed and hung in the billiard-room to give it the proper feeling. + </p> + <p> + The billiard-table arrived and was put in place, the brilliant green cloth + in contrast with the rich red wallpaper and the bookbindings and pictures + making the room wonderfully handsome and inviting. + </p> + <p> + Meantime, Clemens, with one of his sudden impulses, had conceived the + notion of spending the winter in Egypt, on the Nile. He had gone so far, + within a few hours after the idea developed, as to plan the time of his + departure, and to partially engage a traveling secretary, so that he might + continue his dictations. He was quite full of the idea just at the moment + when the billiard table was being installed. He had sent for a book on the + subject—the letters of Lady Duff-Gordon, whose daughter, Janet Ross, + had become a dear friend in Florence during the Viviani days. He spoke of + this new purpose on the morning when we renewed the New York dictations, a + month or more following the return from Dublin. When the dictation ended + he said: + </p> + <p> + “Have you any special place to lunch to-day?” + </p> + <p> + I replied that I had not. + </p> + <p> + “Lunch here,” he said, “and we'll try the new + billiard-table.” + </p> + <p> + I said what was eminently true—that I could not play—that I + had never played more “than a few games of pool, and those very long + ago. + </p> + <p> + “No matter,” he answered; “the poorer you play, the + better I shall like it.” + </p> + <p> + So I remained for luncheon and we began, November 2d, the first game ever + played on the Christmas table. We played the English game, in which caroms + and pockets both count. I had a beginner's luck, on the whole, and I + remember it as a riotous, rollicking game, the beginning of a closer + understanding between us—of a distinct epoch in our association. + When it was ended he said: + </p> + <p> + “I'm not going to Egypt. There was a man here yesterday afternoon + who said it was bad for bronchitis, and, besides, it's too far away from + this billiard-table.” + </p> + <p> + He suggested that I come back in the evening and play some more. I did so, + and the game lasted until after midnight. He gave me odds, of course, and + my “nigger luck,” as he called it, continued. It kept him + sweating and swearing feverishly to win. Finally, once I made a great + fluke—a carom, followed by most of the balls falling into the + pockets. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “when you pick up that cue this damn + table drips at every pore.” + </p> + <p> + After that the morning dictations became a secondary interest. Like a boy, + he was looking forward to the afternoon of play, and it never seemed to + come quick enough to suit him. I remained regularly for luncheon, and he + was inclined to cut the courses short, that he might the sooner get + up-stairs to the billiard-room. His earlier habit of not eating in the + middle of the day continued; but he would get up and dress, and walk about + the dining-room in his old fashion, talking that marvelous, marvelous talk + which I was always trying to remember, and with only fractional success at + best. To him it was only a method of killing time. I remember once, when + he had been discussing with great earnestness the Japanese question, he + suddenly noticed that the luncheon was about ending, and he said: + </p> + <p> + “Now we'll proceed to more serious matters—it's your—shot.” + And he was quite serious, for the green cloth and the rolling balls + afforded him a much larger interest. + </p> + <p> + To the donor of his new possession Clemens wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR MRS. ROGERS,—The billiard-table is better than the doctors. + I have a billiardist on the premises, & walk not less than ten miles + every day with the cue in my hand. And the walking is not the whole + of the exercise, nor the most health giving part of it, I think. + Through the multitude of the positions and attitudes it brings into + play every muscle in the body & exercises them all. + + The games begin right after luncheons, daily, & continue until + midnight, with 2 hours' intermission for dinner & music. And so it + is 9 hours' exercise per day & 10 or 12 on Sunday. Yesterday & last + night it was 12—& I slept until 8 this morning without waking. The + billiard-table as a Sabbath-breaker can beat any coal-breaker in + Pennsylvania & give it 30 in the game. If Mr. Rogers will take to + daily billiards he can do without the doctors & the massageur, I + think. + + We are really going to build a house on my farm, an hour & a half + from New York. It is decided. + + With love & many thanks. + S. L. C. +</pre> + <p> + Naturally enough, with continued practice I improved my game, and he + reduced my odds accordingly. He was willing to be beaten, but not too + often. Like any other boy, he preferred to have the balance in his favor. + We set down a record of the games, and he went to bed happier if the + tally-sheet showed him winner. + </p> + <p> + It was natural, too, that an intimacy of association and of personal + interest should grow under such conditions—to me a precious boon—and + I wish here to record my own boundless gratitude to Mrs. Rogers for her + gift, which, whatever it meant to him, meant so much more to me. The + disparity of ages no longer existed; other discrepancies no longer + mattered. The pleasant land of play is a democracy where such things do + not count. + </p> + <p> + To recall all the humors and interesting happenings of those early + billiard-days would be to fill a large volume. I can preserve no more than + a few characteristic phases. + </p> + <p> + He was not an even-tempered player. When the balls were perverse in their + movements and his aim unsteady, he was likely to become short with his + opponent—critical and even fault-finding. Then presently a reaction + would set in, and he would be seized with remorse. He would become + unnecessarily gentle and kindly—even attentive—placing the + balls as I knocked them into the pockets, hurrying from one end of the + table to render this service, endeavoring to show in every way except by + actual confession in words that he was sorry for what seemed to him, no + doubt, an unworthy display of temper, unjustified irritation. + </p> + <p> + Naturally, this was a mood that I enjoyed less than that which had induced + it. I did not wish him to humble himself; I was willing that he should be + severe, even harsh, if he felt so inclined; his age, his position, his + genius entitled him to special privileges; yet I am glad, as I remember it + now, that the other side revealed itself, for it completes the sum of his + great humanity. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, he was always not only human, but superhuman; not only a man, but + superman. Nor does this term apply only to his psychology. In no other + human being have I ever seen such physical endurance. I was comparatively + a young man, and by no means an invalid; but many a time, far in the + night, when I was ready to drop with exhaustion, he was still as fresh and + buoyant and eager for the game as at the moment of beginning. He smoked + and smoked continually, and followed the endless track around the + billiard-table with the light step of youth. At three or four o'clock in + the morning he would urge just one more game, and would taunt me for my + weariness. I can truthfully testify that never until the last year of his + life did he willingly lay down the billiard-cue, or show the least + suggestion of fatigue. + </p> + <p> + He played always at high pressure. Now and then, in periods of adversity, + he would fly into a perfect passion with things in general. But, in the + end, it was a sham battle, and he saw the uselessness and humor of it, + even in the moment of his climax. Once, when he found it impossible to + make any of his favorite shots, he became more and more restive, the + lightning became vividly picturesque as the clouds blackened. Finally, + with a regular thunder-blast, he seized the cue with both hands and + literally mowed the balls across the table, landing one or two of them on + the floor. I do not recall his exact remarks during the performance; I was + chiefly concerned in getting out of the way, and those sublime utterances + were lost. I gathered up the balls and we went on playing as if nothing + had happened, only he was very gentle and sweet, like the sun on the + meadows after the storm has passed by. After a little he said: + </p> + <p> + “This is a most amusing game. When you play badly it amuses me, and + when I play badly and lose my temper it certainly must amuse you.” + </p> + <p> + His enjoyment of his opponent's perplexities was very keen. When he had + left the balls in some unfortunate position which made it almost + impossible for me to score he would laugh boisterously. I used to affect + to be injured and disturbed by this ridicule. Once, when he had made the + conditions unusually hard for me, and was enjoying the situation + accordingly, I was tempted to remark: + </p> + <p> + “Whenever I see you laugh at a thing like that I always doubt your + sense of humor.” Which seemed to add to his amusement. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes, when the balls were badly placed for me, he would offer + ostensible advice, suggesting that I should shoot here and there—shots + that were possible, perhaps, but not promising. Often I would follow his + advice, and then when I failed to score his amusement broke out afresh. + </p> + <p> + Other billiardists came from time to time: Colonel Harvey, Mr. Duneka, and + Major Leigh, of the Harper Company, and Peter Finley Dunne (Mr. Dooley); + but they were handicapped by their business affairs, and were not + dependable for daily and protracted sessions. Any number of his friends + were willing, even eager, to come for his entertainment; but the + percentage of them who could and would devote a number of hours each day + to being beaten at billiards and enjoy the operation dwindled down to a + single individual. Even I could not have done it—could not have + afforded it, however much I might have enjoyed the diversion—had it + not been contributory to my work. To me the association was invaluable; it + drew from him a thousand long-forgotten incidents; it invited a stream of + picturesque comments and philosophies; it furnished the most intimate + insight into his character. + </p> + <p> + He was not always glad to see promiscuous callers, even some one that he + might have met pleasantly elsewhere. One afternoon a young man whom he had + casually invited to “drop in some day in town” happened to + call in the midst of a very close series of afternoon games. It would all + have been well enough if the visitor had been content to sit quietly on + the couch and “bet on the game,” as Clemens suggested, after + the greetings were over; but he was a very young man, and he felt the + necessity of being entertaining. He insisted on walking about the room and + getting in the way, and on talking about the Mark Twain books he had read, + and the people he had met from time to time who had known Mark Twain on + the river, or on the Pacific coast, or elsewhere. I knew how fatal it was + for him to talk to Clemens during his play, especially concerning matters + most of which had been laid away. I trembled for our visitor. If I could + have got his ear privately I should have said: “For heaven's sake + sit down and keep still or go away! There's going to be a combination of + earthquake and cyclone and avalanche if you keep this thing up.” + </p> + <p> + I did what I could. I looked at my watch every other minute. At last, in + desperation, I suggested that I retire from the game and let the visitor + have my cue. I suppose I thought this would eliminate an element of + danger. He declined on the ground that he seldom played, and continued his + deadly visit. I have never been in an atmosphere so fraught with danger. I + did not know how the game stood, and I played mechanically and forgot to + count the score. Clemens's face was grim and set and savage. He no longer + ventured even a word. By and by I noticed that he was getting white, and I + said, privately, “Now, this young man's hour has come.” + </p> + <p> + It was certainly by the mercy of God just then that the visitor said: + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry, but I've got to go. I'd like to stay longer, but I've + got an engagement for dinner.” + </p> + <p> + I don't remember how he got out, but I know that tons lifted as the door + closed behind him. Clemens made his shot, then very softly said: + </p> + <p> + “If he had stayed another five minutes I should have offered him + twenty-five cents to go.” + </p> + <p> + But a moment later he glared at me. + </p> + <p> + “Why in nation did you offer him your cue?” + </p> + <p> + “Wasn't that the courteous thing to do?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “No!” he ripped out. “The courteous and proper thing + would have been to strike him dead. Did you want to saddle that disaster + upon us for life?” + </p> + <p> + He was blowing off steam, and I knew it and encouraged it. My impulse was + to lie down on the couch and shout with hysterical laughter, but I + suspected that would be indiscreet. He made some further comment on the + propriety of offering a visitor a cue, and suddenly began to sing a + travesty of an old hymn: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “How tedious are they + Who their sovereign obey,” + </pre> + <p> + and so loudly that I said: + </p> + <p> + “Aren't you afraid he'll hear you and come back?” Whereupon he + pretended alarm and sang under his breath, and for the rest of the evening + was in boundless good-humor. + </p> + <p> + I have recalled this incident merely as a sample of things that were + likely to happen at any time in his company, and to show the difficulty + one might find in fitting himself to his varying moods. He was not to be + learned in a day, or a week, or a month; some of those who knew him + longest did not learn him at all. + </p> + <p> + We celebrated his seventy-first birthday by playing billiards all day. He + invented a new game for the occasion; inventing rules for it with almost + every shot. + </p> + <p> + It happened that no member of the family was at home on this birthday. Ill + health had banished every one, even the secretary. Flowers, telegrams, and + congratulations came, and there was a string of callers; but he saw no one + beyond some intimate friends—the Gilders—late in the + afternoon. When they had gone we went down to dinner. We were entirely + alone, and I felt the great honor of being his only guest on such an + occasion. Once between the courses, when he rose, as usual, to walk about, + he wandered into the drawing-room, and seating himself at the orchestrelle + began to play the beautiful flower-song from “Faust.” It was a + thing I had not seen him do before, and I never saw him do it again. When + he came back to the table he said: + </p> + <p> + “Speaking of companions of the long ago, after fifty years they + become only shadows and might as well be in the grave. Only those whom one + has really loved mean anything at all. Of my playmates I recall John + Briggs, John Garth, and Laura Hawkins—just those three; the rest I + buried long ago, and memory cannot even find their graves.” + </p> + <p> + He was in his loveliest humor all that day and evening; and that night, + when he stopped playing, he said: + </p> + <p> + “I have never had a pleasanter day at this game.” + </p> + <p> + I answered, “I hope ten years from to-night we shall still be + playing it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, “still playing the best game on earth.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0259" id="link2H_4_0259"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCL. PHILOSOPHY AND PESSIMISM + </h2> + <h3> + In a letter to MacAlister, written at this time, he said: + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The doctors banished Jean to the country 5 weeks ago; they banished + my secretary to the country for a fortnight last Saturday; they + banished Clara to the country for a fortnight last Monday.... + They banished me to Bermuda to sail next Wednesday, but I struck and + sha'n't go. My complaint is permanent bronchitis & is one of the + very best assets I've got, for it excuses me from every public + function this winter—& all other winters that may come. +</pre> + <p> + If he had bronchitis when this letter was written, it must have been of a + very mild form, for it did not interfere with billiard games, which were + more protracted and strenuous than at almost any other period. I conclude, + therefore, that it was a convenient bronchitis, useful on occasion. + </p> + <p> + For a full ten days we were alone in the big house with the servants. It + was a holiday most of the time. We hurried through the mail in the morning + and the telephone calls; then, while I answered such letters as required + attention, he dictated for an hour or so to Miss Hobby, after which, + billiards for the rest of the day and evening. When callers were reported + by the butler, I went down and got rid of them. Clara Clemens, before her + departure, had pinned up a sign, “NO BILLIARDS AFTER 10 P.M.,” + which still hung on the wall, but it was outlawed. Clemens occasionally + planned excursions to Bermuda and other places; but, remembering the + billiard-table, which he could not handily take along, he abandoned these + projects. He was a boy whose parents had been called away, left to his own + devices, and bent on a good time. + </p> + <p> + There were likely to be irritations in his morning's mail, and more often + he did not wish to see it until it had been pretty carefully sifted. So + many people wrote who wanted things, so many others who made the claim of + more or less distant acquaintanceship the excuse for long and trivial + letters. + </p> + <p> + “I have stirred up three generations,” he said; “first + the grandparents, then the children, and now the grandchildren; the + great-grandchildren will begin to arrive soon.” + </p> + <p> + His mail was always large; but often it did not look interesting. One + could tell from the envelope and the superscription something of the + contents. Going over one assortment he burst out: + </p> + <p> + “Look at them! Look how trivial they are! Every envelope looks as if + it contained a trivial human soul.” + </p> + <p> + Many letters were filled with fulsome praise and compliment, usually of + one pattern. He was sated with such things, and seldom found it possible + to bear more than a line or two of them. Yet a fresh, well-expressed note + of appreciation always pleased him. + </p> + <p> + “I can live for two months on a good compliment,” he once + said. Certain persistent correspondents, too self-centered to realize + their lack of consideration, or the futility of their purpose, followed + him relentlessly. Of one such he remarked: + </p> + <p> + “That woman intends to pursue me to the grave. I wish something + could be done to appease her.” + </p> + <p> + And again: + </p> + <p> + “Everybody in the world who wants something—something of no + interest to me—writes to me to get it.” + </p> + <p> + These morning sessions were likely to be of great interest. Once a letter + spoke of the desirability of being an optimist. “That word perfectly + disgusts me,” he said, and his features materialized the disgust, + “just as that other word, pessimist, does; and the idea that one + can, by any effort of will, be one or the other, any more than he can + change the color of his hair. The reason why a man is a pessimist or an + optimist is not because he wants to be, but because he was born so; and + this man [a minister of the Gospel who was going to explain life to him] + is going to tell me why he isn't a pessimist. Oh, he'll do it, but he + won't tell the truth; he won't make it short enough.” + </p> + <p> + Yet he was always patient with any one who came with spiritual messages, + theological arguments, and consolations. He might have said to them: + “Oh, dear friends, those things of which you speak are the toys that + long ago I played with and set aside.” He could have said it and + spoken the truth; but I believe he did not even think it. He listened to + any one for whom he had respect, and was grateful for any effort in his + behalf. One morning he read aloud a lecture given in London by George + Bernard Shaw on religion, commenting as he read. He said: + </p> + <p> + “This letter is a frank breath of expression [and his comments were + equally frank]. There is no such thing as morality; it is not immoral for + the tiger to eat the wolf, or the wolf the cat, or the cat the bird, and + so on down; that is their business. There is always enough for each one to + live on. It is not immoral for one nation to seize another nation by force + of arms, or for one man to seize another man's property or life if he is + strong enough and wants to take it. It is not immoral to create the human + species—with or without ceremony; nature intended exactly these + things.” + </p> + <p> + At one place in the lecture Shaw had said: “No one of good sense can + accept any creed to-day without reservation.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” commented Clemens; “the reservation is + that he is a d—d fool to accept it at all.” + </p> + <p> + He was in one of his somber moods that morning. I had received a print of + a large picture of Thomas Nast—the last one taken. The face had a + pathetic expression which told the tragedy of his last years. Clemens + looked at the picture several moments without speaking. Then he broke out: + </p> + <p> + “Why can't a man die when he's had his tragedy? I ought to have died + long ago.” And somewhat later: “Once Twichell heard me cussing + the human race, and he said, 'Why, Mark, you are the last person in the + world to do that—one selected and set apart as you are.' I said + 'Joe, you don't know what you are talking about. I am not cussing + altogether about my own little troubles. Any one can stand his own + misfortunes; but when I read in the papers all about the rascalities and + outrages going on I realize what a creature the human animal is. Don't you + care more about the wretchedness of others than anything that happens to + you?' Joe said he did, and shut up.” + </p> + <p> + It occurred to me to suggest that he should not read the daily papers. + “No difference,” he said. “I read books printed two + hundred years ago, and they hurt just the same.” + </p> + <p> + “Those people are all dead and gone,” I objected. + </p> + <p> + “They hurt just the same,” he maintained. + </p> + <p> + I sometimes thought of his inner consciousness as a pool darkened by his + tragedies, its glassy surface, when calm, reflecting all the joy and + sunlight and merriment of the world, but easily—so easily—troubled + and stirred even to violence. Once following the dictation, when I came to + the billiard-room he was shooting the balls about the table, apparently + much depressed. He said: + </p> + <p> + “I have been thinking it out—if I live two years more I will + put an end to it all. I will kill myself.” + </p> + <p> + “You have much to live for——” + </p> + <p> + “But I am so tired of the eternal round,” he interrupted; + “so tired.” And I knew he meant that he was ill of the great + loneliness that had come to him that day in Florence, and would never pass + away. + </p> + <p> + I referred to the pressure of social demands in the city, and the relief + he would find in his country home. He shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “The country home I need,” he said, fiercely, “is a + cemetery.” + </p> + <p> + Yet the mood changed quickly enough when the play began. He was gay and + hilarious presently, full of the humors and complexities of the game. H. + H. Rogers came in with a good deal of frequency, seldom making very long + calls, but never seeming to have that air of being hurried which one might + expect to find in a man whose day was only twenty-four hours long, and + whose interests were so vast and innumerable. He would come in where we + were playing, and sit down and watch the game, or perhaps would pick up a + book and read, exchanging a remark now and then. More often, however, he + sat in the bedroom, for his visits were likely to be in the morning. They + were seldom business calls, or if they were, the business was quickly + settled, and then followed gossip, humorous incident, or perhaps Clemens + would read aloud something he had written. But once, after greetings, he + began: + </p> + <p> + “Well, Rogers, I don't know what you think of it, but I think I have + had about enough of this world, and I wish I were out of it.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rogers replied, “I don't say much about it, but that expresses + my view.” + </p> + <p> + This from the foremost man of letters and one of the foremost financiers + of the time was impressive. Each at the mountain-top of his career, they + agreed that the journey was not worth while—that what the world had + still to give was not attractive enough to tempt them to prevent a desire + to experiment with the next stage. One could remember a thousand poor and + obscure men who were perfectly willing to go on struggling and starving, + postponing the day of settlement as long as possible; but perhaps, when + one has had all the world has to give, when there are no new worlds in + sight to conquer, one has a different feeling. + </p> + <p> + Well, the realization lay not so far ahead for either of them, though at + that moment they both seemed full of life and vigor—full of youth. + One could not imagine the day when for them it would all be over. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0260" id="link2H_4_0260"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLI. A LOBBYING EXPEDITION + </h2> + <p> + Clara Clemens came home now and then to see how matters were progressing, + and very properly, for Clemens was likely to become involved in social + intricacies which required a directing hand. The daughter inherited no + little of the father's characteristics of thought and phrase, and it was + always a delight to see them together when one could be just out of range + of the crossfire. I remember soon after her return, when she was making + some searching inquiries concerning the billiard-room sign, and other + suggested or instituted reforms, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Oh well, never mind, it doesn't matter. I'm boss in this house.” + </p> + <p> + She replied, quickly: “Oh no, you're not. You're merely owner. I'm + the captain—the commander-in-chief.” + </p> + <p> + One night at dinner she mentioned the possibility of going abroad that + year. During several previous summers she had planned to visit Vienna to + see her old music-master, Leschetizky, once more before his death. She + said: + </p> + <p> + “Leschetizky is getting so old. If I don't go soon I'm afraid I + sha'n't be in time for his funeral.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said her father, thoughtfully, “you keep rushing + over to Leschetizky's funeral, and you'll miss mine.” + </p> + <p> + He had made one or two social engagements without careful reflection, and + the situation would require some delicacy of adjustment. During a moment + between the courses, when he left the table and was taking his exercise in + the farther room, she made some remark which suggested a doubt of her + father's gift for social management. I said: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, he is a king, you know, and a king can do no wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know,” she answered. “The king can do no wrong; + but he frightens me almost to death, sometimes, he comes so near it.” + </p> + <p> + He came back and began to comment rather critically on some recent + performance of Roosevelt's, which had stirred up a good deal of newspaper + amusement—it was the Storer matter and those indiscreet letters + which Roosevelt had written relative to the ambassadorship which Storer so + much desired. Miss Clemens was inclined to defend the President, and spoke + with considerable enthusiasm concerning his elements of popularity, which + had won him such extraordinary admiration. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly he is popular,” Clemens admitted, “and with + the best of reasons. If the twelve apostles should call at the White + House, he would say, 'Come in, come in! I am delighted to see you. I've + been watching your progress, and I admired it very much.' Then if Satan + should come, he would slap him on the shoulder and say, 'Why, Satan, how + do you do? I am so glad to meet you. I've read all your works and enjoyed + every one of them.' Anybody could be popular with a gift like that.” + </p> + <p> + It was that evening or the next, perhaps, that he said to her: + </p> + <p> + “Ben [one of his pet names for her], now that you are here to run + the ranch, Paine and I are going to Washington on a vacation. You don't + seem to admire our society much, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + There were still other reasons for the Washington expedition. There was an + important bill up for the extension of the book royalty period, and the + forces of copyright were going down in a body to use every possible means + to get the measure through. + </p> + <p> + Clemens, during Cleveland's first administration, some nineteen years + before, had accompanied such an expedition, and through S. S. (“Sunset”) + Cox had obtained the “privileges of the floor” of the House, + which had enabled him to canvass the members individually. Cox assured the + doorkeeper that Clemens had received the thanks of Congress for national + literary service, and was therefore entitled to that privilege. This was + not strictly true; but regulations were not very severe in those days, and + the ruse had been regarded as a good joke, which had yielded excellent + results. Clemens had a similar scheme in mind now, and believed that his + friendship with Speaker Cannon—“Uncle Joe”—would + obtain for him a similar privilege. The Copyright Association working in + its regular way was very well, he said, but he felt he could do more as an + individual than by acting merely as a unit of that body. + </p> + <p> + “I canvassed the entire House personally that other time,” he + said. “Cox introduced me to the Democrats, and John D. Long, + afterward Secretary of the Navy, introduced me to the Republicans. I had a + darling time converting those members, and I'd like to try the experiment + again.” + </p> + <p> + I should have mentioned earlier, perhaps, that at this time he had begun + to wear white clothing regularly, regardless of the weather and season. On + the return from Dublin he had said: + </p> + <p> + “I can't bear to put on black clothes again. I wish I could wear + white all winter. I should prefer, of course, to wear colors, beautiful + rainbow hues, such as the women have monopolized. Their clothing makes a + great opera audience an enchanting spectacle, a delight to the eye and to + the spirit—a garden of Eden for charm and color. + </p> + <p> + “The men, clothed in odious black, are scattered here and there over + the garden like so many charred stumps. If we are going to be gay in + spirit, why be clad in funeral garments? I should like to dress in a loose + and flowing costume made all of silks and velvets resplendent with + stunning dyes, and so would every man I have ever known; but none of us + dares to venture it. If I should appear on Fifth Avenue on a Sunday + morning clothed as I would like to be clothed the churches would all be + vacant and the congregation would come tagging after me. They would scoff, + of course, but they would envy me, too. When I put on black it reminds me + of my funerals. I could be satisfied with white all the year round.” + </p> + <p> + It was not long after this that he said: + </p> + <p> + “I have made up my mind not to wear black any more, but white, and + let the critics say what they will.” + </p> + <p> + So his tailor was sent for, and six creamy flannel and serge suits were + ordered, made with the short coats, which he preferred, with a gray suit + or two for travel, and he did not wear black again, except for evening + dress and on special occasions. It was a gratifying change, and though the + newspapers made much of it, there was no one who was not gladdened by the + beauty of his garments and their general harmony with his person. He had + never worn anything so appropriate or so impressive. + </p> + <p> + This departure of costume came along a week or two before the Washington + trip, and when his bags were being packed for the excursion he was + somewhat in doubt as to the propriety of bursting upon Washington in + December in that snowy plumage. I ventured: + </p> + <p> + “This is a lobbying expedition of a peculiar kind, and does not seem + to invite any half-way measures. I should vote in favor of the white suit.” + </p> + <p> + I think Miss Clemens was for it, too. She must have been or the vote + wouldn't have carried, though it was clear he strongly favored the idea. + At all events, the white suits came along. + </p> + <p> + We were off the following afternoon: Howells, Robert Underwood Johnson, + one of the Appletons, one of the Putnams, George Bowker, and others were + on the train. On the trip down in the dining-car there was a discussion + concerning the copyrighting of ideas, which finally resolved itself into + the possibility of originating a new one. Clemens said: + </p> + <p> + “There is no such thing as a new idea. It is impossible. We simply + take a lot of old ideas and put them into a sort of mental kaleidoscope. + We give them a turn and they make new and curious combinations. We keep on + turning and making new combinations indefinitely; but they are the same + old pieces of colored glass that have been in use through all the ages.” + </p> + <p> + We put up at the Willard, and in the morning drove over to the + Congressional Library, where the copyright hearing was in progress. There + was a joint committee of the two Houses seated round a long table at work, + and a number of spectators more or less interested in the bill, mainly, it + would seem, men concerned with the protection of mechanical music-rolls. + The fact that this feature was mixed up with literature was not viewed + with favor by most of the writers. Clemens referred to the musical + contingent as “those hand-organ men who ought to have a bill of + their own.” + </p> + <p> + I should mention that early that morning Clemens had written this letter + to Speaker Cannon: + </p> + <p> + December 7, 1906. + </p> + <p> + DEAR UNCLE JOSEPH,—Please get me the thanks of the Congress—not + next week, but right away. It is very necessary. Do accomplish this for + your affectionate old friend right away; by persuasion, if you can; by + violence, if you must, for it is imperatively necessary that I get on the + floor for two or three hours and talk to the members, man by man, in + behalf of the support, encouragement, and protection of one of the + nation's most valuable assets and industries—its literature. I have + arguments with me, also a barrel with liquid in it. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Give me a chance. Get me the thanks of Congress. Don't wait for +others—there isn't time. I have stayed away and let Congress alone +for seventy-one years and I am entitled to thanks. Congress knows it +perfectly well, and I have long felt hurt that this quite proper and +earned expression of gratitude has been merely felt by the House and +never publicly uttered. Send me an order on the Sergeant-at-Arms quick. +When shall I come? With love and a benediction; + MARK TWAIN. +</pre> + <p> + We went over to the Capitol now to deliver to “Uncle Joe” this + characteristic letter. We had picked up Clemens's nephew, Samuel E. + Moffett, at the Library, and he came along and led the way to the + Speaker's room. Arriving there, Clemens laid off his dark overcoat and + stood there, all in white, certainly a startling figure among those + clerks, newspaper men, and incidental politicians. He had been noticed as + he entered the Capitol, and a number of reporters had followed close + behind. Within less than a minute word was being passed through the + corridors that Mark Twain was at the Capitol in his white suit. The + privileged ones began to gather, and a crowd assembled in the hall + outside. + </p> + <p> + Speaker Cannon was not present at the moment; but a little later he + “billowed” in—which seems to be the word to express it—he + came with such a rush and tide of life. After greetings, Clemens produced + the letter and read it to him solemnly, as if he were presenting a + petition. Uncle Joe listened quite seriously, his head bowed a little, as + if it were really a petition, as in fact it was. He smiled, but he said, + quite seriously: + </p> + <p> + “That is a request that ought to be granted; but the time has gone + by when I am permitted any such liberties. Tom Reed, when he was Speaker, + inaugurated a strict precedent excluding all outsiders from the use of the + floor of the House.” + </p> + <p> + “I got in the other time,” Clemens insisted. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Uncle Joe; “but that ain't now. Sunset Cox + could let you in, but I can't. They'd hang me.” He reflected a + moment, and added: “I'll tell you what I'll do: I've got a private + room down-stairs that I never use. It's all fitted up with table and desk, + stationery, chinaware, and cutlery; you could keep house there, if you + wanted to. I'll let you have it as long as you want to stay here, and I'll + give you my private servant, Neal, who's been here all his life and knows + every official, every Senator and Representative, and they all know him. + He'll bring you whatever you want, and you can send in messages by him. + You can have the members brought down singly or in bunches, and convert + them as much as you please. I'd give you a key to the room, only I haven't + got one myself. I never can get in when I want to, but Neal can get in, + and he'll unlock it for you. You can have the room, and you can have Neal. + Now, will that do you?” + </p> + <p> + Clemens said it would. It was, in fact, an offer without precedent. + Probably never in the history of the country had a Speaker given up his + private room to lobbyists. We went in to see the House open, and then went + down with Neal and took possession of the room. The reporters had promptly + seized upon the letter, and they now got hold of its author, led him to + their own quarters, and, gathering around him, fired questions at him, and + kept their note-books busy. He made a great figure, all in white there + among them, and they didn't fail to realize the value of it as “copy.” + He talked about copyright, and about his white clothes, and about a silk + hat which Howells wore. + </p> + <p> + Back in the Speaker's room, at last, he began laying out the campaign, + which would begin next day. By and by he said: + </p> + <p> + “Look here! I believe I've got to speak over there in that + committee-room to-day or to-morrow. I ought to know just when it is.” + </p> + <p> + I had not heard of this before, and offered to go over and see about it, + which I did at once. I hurried back faster than I had gone. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Clemens, you are to speak in half an hour, and the room is + crowded full; people waiting to hear you.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil!” he said. “Well, all right; I'll just lie + down here a few minutes and then we'll go over. Take paper and pencil and + make a few headings.” + </p> + <p> + There was a couch in the room. He lay down while I sat at the table with a + pencil, making headings now and then, as he suggested, and presently he + rose and, shoving the notes into his pocket, was ready. It was half past + three when we entered the committee-room, which was packed with people and + rather dimly lighted, for it was gloomy outside. Herbert Putnam, the + librarian, led us to seats among the literary group, and Clemens, removing + his overcoat, stood in that dim room clad as in white armor. There was a + perceptible stir. Howells, startled for a moment, whispered: + </p> + <p> + “What in the world did he wear that white suit for?” though in + his heart he admired it as much as the others. + </p> + <p> + I don't remember who was speaking when we came in, but he was saying + nothing important. Whoever it was, he was followed by Dr. Edward Everett + Hale, whose age always commanded respect, and whose words always invited + interest. Then it was Mark Twain's turn. He did not stand by his chair, as + the others had done, but walked over to the Speaker's table, and, turning, + faced his audience. I have never seen a more impressive sight than that + snow-white figure in that dim-lit, crowded room. He never touched his + notes; he didn't even remember them. He began in that even, quiet, + deliberate voice of his the most even, the most quiet, the most deliberate + voice in the world—and, without a break or a hesitation for a word, + he delivered a copyright argument, full of humor and serious reasoning, + such a speech as no one in that room, I suppose, had ever heard. Certainly + it was a fine and dramatic bit of impromptu pleading. The weary committee, + which had been tortured all day with dull, statistical arguments made by + the mechanical device fiends, and dreary platitudes unloaded by men whose + chief ambition was to shine as copyright champions, suddenly realized that + they were being rewarded for the long waiting. They began to brighten and + freshen, and uplift and smile, like flowers that have been wilted by a + drought when comes the refreshing shower that means renewed life and + vigor. Every listener was as if standing on tiptoe. When the last sentence + was spoken the applause came like an explosion.—[Howells in his book + My Mark Twain speaks of Clemens's white clothing as “an inspiration + which few men would have had the courage to act upon.” He adds: + “The first time I saw him wear it was at the authors' hearing before + the Congressional Committee on Copyright in Washington. Nothing could have + been more dramatic than the gesture with which he flung off his long, + loose overcoat and stood forth in white from his feet to the crown of his + silvery head. It was a magnificent coup, and he dearly loved a coup; but + the magnificent speech which he made, tearing to shreds the venerable + farrago of nonsense about nonproperty in ideas which had formed the basis + of all copyright legislation, made you forget even his spectacularity.”] + </p> + <p> + There came a universal rush of men and women to get near enough for a word + and to shake his hand. But he was anxious to get away. We drove to the + Willard and talked and smoked, and got ready for dinner. He was elated, + and said the occasion required full-dress. We started down at last, + fronted and frocked like penguins. + </p> + <p> + I did not realize then the fullness of his love for theatrical effect. I + supposed he would want to go down with as little ostentation as possible, + so took him by the elevator which enters the dining-room without passing + through the long corridor known as “Peacock Alley,” because of + its being a favorite place for handsomely dressed fashionables of the + national capital. When we reached the entrance of the dining-room he said: + </p> + <p> + “Isn't there another entrance to this place?” + </p> + <p> + I said there was, but that it was very conspicuous. We should have to go + down the long corridor. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well,” he said, “I don't mind that. Let's go back + and try it over.” + </p> + <p> + So we went back up the elevator, walked to the other end of the hotel, and + came down to the F Street entrance. There is a fine, stately flight of + steps—a really royal stair—leading from this entrance down + into “Peacock Alley.” To slowly descend that flight is an + impressive thing to do. It is like descending the steps of a throne-room, + or to some royal landing-place where Cleopatra's barge might lie. I + confess that I was somewhat nervous at the awfulness of the occasion, but + I reflected that I was powerfully protected; so side by side, both in + full-dress, white ties, white-silk waistcoats, and all, we came down that + regal flight. + </p> + <p> + Of course he was seized upon at once by a lot of feminine admirers, and + the passage along the corridor was a perpetual gantlet. I realize now that + this gave the dramatic finish to his day, and furnished him with proper + appetite for his dinner. I did not again make the mistake of taking him + around to the more secluded elevator. I aided and abetted him every + evening in making that spectacular descent of the royal stairway, and in + running that fair and frivolous gantlet the length of “Peacock + Alley.” The dinner was a continuous reception. No sooner was he + seated than this Congressman and that Senator came over to shake hands + with Mark Twain. Governor Francis of Missouri also came. Eventually + Howells drifted in, and Clemens reviewed the day, its humors and + successes. Back in the rooms at last he summed up the progress thus far—smoked, + laughed over “Uncle Joe's” surrender to the “copyright + bandits,” and turned in for the night. + </p> + <p> + We were at the Capitol headquarters in Speaker Cannon's private room about + eleven o'clock next morning. Clemens was not in the best humor because I + had allowed him to oversleep. He was inclined to be discouraged at the + prospect, and did not believe many of the members would come down to see + him. He expressed a wish for some person of influence and wide + acquaintance, and walked up and down, smoking gloomily. I slipped out and + found the Speaker's colored body-guard, Neal, and suggested that Mr. + Clemens was ready now to receive the members. + </p> + <p> + That was enough. They began to arrive immediately. John Sharp Williams + came first, then Boutell, from Illinois, Littlefield, of Maine, and after + them a perfect procession, including all the leading lights—Dalzell, + Champ Clark, McCall—one hundred and eighty or so in all during the + next three or four hours. + </p> + <p> + Neal announced each name at the door, and in turn I announced it to + Clemens when the press was not too great. He had provided boxes of cigars, + and the room was presently blue with smoke, Clemens in his white suit in + the midst of it, surrounded by those darker figures—shaking hands, + dealing out copyright gospel and anecdotes—happy and wonderfully + excited. There were chairs, but usually there was only standing room. He + was on his feet for several hours and talked continually; but when at last + it was over, and Champ Clark, who I believe remained longest and was most + enthusiastic in the movement, had bade him good-by, he declared that he + was not a particle tired, and added: + </p> + <p> + “I believe if our bill could be presented now it would pass.” + </p> + <p> + He was highly elated, and pronounced everything a perfect success. Neal, + who was largely responsible for the triumph, received a ten-dollar bill. + </p> + <p> + We drove to the hotel and dined that night with the Dodges, who had been + neighbors at Riverdale. Later, the usual crowd of admirers gathered around + him, among them I remember the minister from Costa Rica, the Italian + minister, and others of the diplomatic service, most of whom he had known + during his European residence. Some one told of traveling in India and + China, and how a certain Hindu “god” who had exchanged + autographs with Mark Twain during his sojourn there was familiar with only + two other American names—George Washington and Chicago; while the + King of Siam had read but three English books—the Bible, Bryce's + American Commonwealth, and The Innocents Abroad. + </p> + <p> + We were at Thomas Nelson Page's for dinner next evening—a + wonderfully beautiful home, full of art treasures. A number of guests had + been invited. Clemens naturally led the dinner-talk, which eventually + drifted to reading. He told of Mrs. Clemens's embarrassment when Stepniak + had visited them and talked books, and asked her what her husband thought + of Balzac, Thackeray, and the others. She had been obliged to say that he + had not read them. + </p> + <p> + “'How interesting!' said Stepniak. But it wasn't interesting to Mrs. + Clemens. It was torture.” + </p> + <p> + He was light-spirited and gay; but recalling Mrs. Clemens saddened him, + perhaps, for he was silent as we drove to the hotel, and after he was in + bed he said, with a weary despair which even the words do not convey: + </p> + <p> + “If I had been there a minute earlier, it is possible—it is + possible that she might have died in my arms. Sometimes I think that + perhaps there was an instant—a single instant—when she + realized that she was dying and that I was not there.” + </p> + <p> + In New York I had once brought him a print of the superb “Adams + Memorial,” by Saint-Gaudens—the bronze woman who sits in the + still court in the Rock Creek Cemetery at Washington. + </p> + <p> + On the morning following the Page dinner at breakfast, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Engage a carriage and we will drive out and see the Saint-Gaudens + bronze.” + </p> + <p> + It was a bleak, dull December day, and as we walked down through the + avenues of the dead there was a presence of realized sorrow that seemed + exactly suited to such a visit. We entered the little inclosure of cedars + where sits the dark figure which is art's supreme expression of the great + human mystery of life and death. Instinctively we removed our hats, and + neither spoke until after we had come away. Then: + </p> + <p> + “What does he call it?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + I did not know, though I had heard applied to it that great line of + Shakespeare's—“the rest is silence.” + </p> + <p> + “But that figure is not silent,” he said. + </p> + <p> + And later, as we were driving home: + </p> + <p> + “It is in deep meditation on sorrowful things.” + </p> + <p> + When we returned to New York he had the little print framed, and kept it + always on his mantelpiece. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0261" id="link2H_4_0261"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLII. THEOLOGY AND EVOLUTION + </h2> + <p> + From the Washington trip dates a period of still closer association with + Mark Twain. On the way to New York he suggested that I take up residence + in his house—a privilege which I had no wish to refuse. There was + room going to waste, he said, and it would be handier for the early and + late billiard sessions. So, after that, most of the days and nights I was + there. + </p> + <p> + Looking back on that time now, I see pretty vividly three quite distinct + pictures. One of them, the rich, red interior of the billiard-room with + the brilliant, green square in the center, on which the gay balls are + rolling, and bending over it that luminous white figure in the instant of + play. Then there is the long, lighted drawing-room with the same figure + stretched on a couch in the corner, drowsily smoking, while the rich organ + tones fill the place summoning for him scenes and faces which others do + not see. This was the hour between dinner and billiards—the hour + which he found most restful of the day. Sometimes he rose, walking the + length of the parlors, his step timed to the music and his thought. Of + medium height, he gave the impression of being tall-his head thrown up, + and like a lion's, rather large for his body. But oftener he lay among the + cushions, the light flooding his white hair and dress and heightening his + brilliant coloring. + </p> + <p> + The third picture is that of the dinner-table—always beautifully + laid, and always a shrine of wisdom when he was there. He did not always + talk; but it was his habit to do so, and memory holds the clearer vision + of him when, with eyes and face alive with interest, he presented some new + angle of thought in fresh picturesqueness of speech. These are the + pictures that have remained to me out of the days spent under his roof, + and they will not fade while memory lasts. + </p> + <p> + Of Mark Twain's table philosophies it seems proper to make rather extended + record. They were usually unpremeditated, and they presented the man as he + was, and thought. I preserved as much of them as I could, and have + verified phrase and idea, when possible, from his own notes and other + unprinted writings. + </p> + <p> + This dinner-table talk naturally varied in character from that of the + billiard-room. The latter was likely to be anecdotal and personal; the + former was more often philosophical and commentative, ranging through a + great variety of subjects scientific, political, sociological, and + religious. His talk was often of infinity—the forces of creation—and + it was likely to be satire of the orthodox conceptions, intermingled with + heresies of his own devising. + </p> + <p> + Once, after a period of general silence, he said: + </p> + <p> + “No one who thinks can imagine the universe made by chance. It is + too nicely assembled and regulated. There is, of course, a great Master + Mind, but it cares nothing for our happiness or our unhappiness.” + </p> + <p> + It was objected, by one of those present, that as the Infinite Mind + suggested perfect harmony, sorrow and suffering were defects which that + Mind must feel and eventually regulate. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, “not a sparrow falls but He is noticing, + if that is what you mean; but the human conception of it is that God is + sitting up nights worrying over the individuals of this infinitesimal + race.” + </p> + <p> + Then he recalled a fancy which I have since found among his memoranda. In + this note he had written: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The suns & planets that form the constellations of a billion billion + solar systems & go pouring, a tossing flood of shining globes, + through the viewless arteries of space are the blood-corpuscles in + the veins of God; & the nations are the microbes that swarm and + wiggle & brag in each, & think God can tell them apart at that + distance & has nothing better to do than try. This—the + entertainment of an eternity. Who so poor in his ambitions as to + consent to be God on those terms? Blasphemy? No, it is not + blasphemy. If God is as vast as that, He is above blasphemy; if He + is as little as that, He is beneath it. +</pre> + <p> + “The Bible,” he said, “reveals the character of its God + with minute exactness. It is a portrait of a man, if one can imagine a man + with evil impulses far beyond the human limit. In the Old Testament He is + pictured as unjust, ungenerous, pitiless, and revengeful, punishing + innocent children for the misdeeds of their parents; punishing unoffending + people for the sins of their rulers, even descending to bloody vengeance + upon harmless calves and sheep as punishment for puny trespasses committed + by their proprietors. It is the most damnatory biography that ever found + its way into print. Its beginning is merely childish. Adam is forbidden to + eat the fruit of a certain tree, and gravely informed that if he disobeys + he shall die. How could that impress Adam? He could have no idea of what + death meant. He had never seen a dead thing. He had never heard of one. If + he had been told that if he ate the apples he would be turned into a + meridian of longitude that threat would have meant just as much as the + other one. The watery intellect that invented that notion could be + depended on to go on and decree that all of Adam's descendants down to the + latest day should be punished for that nursery trespass in the beginning. + </p> + <p> + “There is a curious poverty of invention in Bibles. Most of the + great races each have one, and they all show this striking defect. Each + pretends to originality, without possessing any. Each of them borrows from + the other, confiscates old stage properties, puts them forth as fresh and + new inspirations from on high. We borrowed the Golden Rule from Confucius, + after it had seen service for centuries, and copyrighted it without a + blush. We went back to Babylon for the Deluge, and are as proud of it and + as satisfied with it as if it had been worth the trouble; whereas we know + now that Noah's flood never happened, and couldn't have happened—not + in that way. The flood is a favorite with Bible-makers. Another favorite + with the founders of religions is the Immaculate Conception. It had been + worn threadbare; but we adopted it as a new idea. It was old in Egypt + several thousand years before Christ was born. The Hindus prized it ages + ago. The Egyptians adopted it even for some of their kings. The Romans + borrowed the idea from Greece. We got it straight from heaven by way of + Rome. We are still charmed with it.” + </p> + <p> + He would continue in this strain, rising occasionally and walking about + the room. Once, considering the character of God—the Bible God-he + said: + </p> + <p> + “We haven't been satisfied with God's character as it is given in + the Old Testament; we have amended it. We have called Him a God of mercy + and love and morals. He didn't have a single one of those qualities in the + beginning. He didn't hesitate to send the plagues on Egypt, the most + fiendish punishments that could be devised—not for the king, but for + his innocent subjects, the women and the little children, and then only to + exhibit His power just to show off—and He kept hardening Pharaoh's + heart so that He could send some further ingenuity of torture, new rivers + of blood, and swarms of vermin and new pestilences, merely to exhibit + samples of His workmanship. Now and then, during the forty years' + wandering, Moses persuaded Him to be a little more lenient with the + Israelites, which would show that Moses was the better character of the + two. That Old Testament God never had an inspiration of His own.” + </p> + <p> + He referred to the larger conception of God, that Infinite Mind which had + projected the universe. He said: + </p> + <p> + “In some details that Old Bible God is probably a more correct + picture than our conception of that Incomparable One that created the + universe and flung upon its horizonless ocean of space those giant suns, + whose signal-lights are so remote that we only catch their flash when it + has been a myriad of years on its way. For that Supreme One is not a God + of pity or mercy—not as we recognize these qualities. Think of a God + of mercy who would create the typhus germ, or the house-fly, or the + centipede, or the rattlesnake, yet these are all His handiwork. They are a + part of the Infinite plan. The minister is careful to explain that all + these tribulations are sent for a good purpose; but he hires a doctor to + destroy the fever germ, and he kills the rattlesnake when he doesn't run + from it, and he sets paper with molasses on it for the house-fly. + </p> + <p> + “Two things are quite certain: one is that God, the limitless God, + manufactured those things, for no man could have done it. The man has + never lived who could create even the humblest of God's creatures. The + other conclusion is that God has no special consideration for man's + welfare or comfort, or He wouldn't have created those things to disturb + and destroy him. The human conception of pity and morality must be + entirely unknown to that Infinite God, as much unknown as the conceptions + of a microbe to man, or at least as little regarded. + </p> + <p> + “If God ever contemplates those qualities in man He probably admires + them, as we always admire the thing which we do not possess ourselves; + probably a little grain of pity in a man or a little atom of mercy would + look as big to Him as a constellation. He could create a constellation + with a thought; but He has been all the measureless ages, and He has never + acquired those qualities that we have named—pity and mercy and + morality. He goes on destroying a whole island of people with an + earthquake, or a whole cityful with a plague, when we punish a man in the + electric chair for merely killing the poorest of our race. The human being + needs to revise his ideas again about God. Most of the scientists have + done it already; but most of them don't dare to say so.” + </p> + <p> + He pointed out that the moral idea was undergoing constant change; that + what was considered justifiable in an earlier day was regarded as highly + immoral now. He pointed out that even the Decalogue made no reference to + lying, except in the matter of bearing false witness against a neighbor. + Also, that there was a commandment against covetousness, though + covetousness to-day was the basis of all commerce: The general conclusion + being that the morals of the Lord had been the morals of the beginning; + the morals of the first-created man, the morals of the troglodyte, the + morals of necessity; and that the morals of mankind had kept pace with + necessity, whereas those of the Lord had remained unchanged. It is hardly + necessary to say that no one ever undertook to contradict any statements + of this sort from him. In the first place, there was no desire to do so; + and in the second place, any one attempting it would have cut a puny + figure with his less substantial arguments and his less vigorous phrase. + It was the part of wisdom and immeasurably the part of happiness to be + silent and listen. + </p> + <p> + On another evening he began: + </p> + <p> + “The mental evolution of the species proceeds apparently by regular + progress side by side with the physical development until it comes to man, + then there is a long, unexplained gulf. Somewhere man acquired an asset + which sets him immeasurably apart from the other animals—his + imagination. Out of it he created for himself a conscience, and clothes, + and immodesty, and a hereafter, and a soul. I wonder where he got that + asset. It almost makes one agree with Alfred Russel Wallace that the world + and the universe were created just for his benefit, that he is the chief + love and delight of God. Wallace says that the whole universe was made to + take care of and to keep steady this little floating mote in the center of + it, which we call the world. It looks like a good deal of trouble for such + a small result; but it's dangerous to dispute with a learned astronomer + like Wallace. Still, I don't think we ought to decide too soon about it—not + until the returns are all in. There is the geological evidence, for + instance. Even after the universe was created, it took a long time to + prepare the world for man. Some of the scientists, ciphering out the + evidence furnished by geology, have arrived at the conviction that the + world is prodigiously old. Lord Kelvin doesn't agree with them. He says + that it isn't more than a hundred million years old, and he thinks the + human race has inhabited it about thirty thousand years of that time. Even + so, it was 99,970,000 years getting ready, impatient as the Creator + doubtless was to see man and admire him. That was because God first had to + make the oyster. You can't make an oyster out of nothing, nor you can't do + it in a day. You've got to start with a vast variety of invertebrates, + belemnites, trilobites, jebusites, amalekites, and that sort of fry, and + put them into soak in a primary sea and observe and wait what will happen. + Some of them will turn out a disappointment; the belemnites and the + amalekites and such will be failures, and they will die out and become + extinct in the course of the nineteen million years covered by the + experiment; but all is not lost, for the amalekites will develop gradually + into encrinites and stalactites and blatherskites, and one thing and + another, as the mighty ages creep on and the periods pile their lofty + crags in the primordial seas, and at last the first grand stage in the + preparation of the world for man stands completed; the oyster is done. Now + an oyster has hardly any more reasoning power than a man has, so it is + probable this one jumped to the conclusion that the nineteen million years + was a preparation for him. That would be just like an oyster, and, anyway, + this one could not know at that early date that he was only an incident in + a scheme, and that there was some more to the scheme yet. + </p> + <p> + “The oyster being finished, the next step in the preparation of the + world for man was fish. So the old Silurian seas were opened up to breed + the fish in. It took twenty million years to make the fish and to + fossilize him so we'd have the evidence later. + </p> + <p> + “Then, the Paleozoic limit having been reached, it was necessary to + start a new age to make the reptiles. Man would have to have some reptiles—not + to eat, but to develop himself from. Thirty million years were required + for the reptiles, and out of such material as was left were made those + stupendous saurians that used to prowl about the steamy world in remote + ages, with their snaky heads forty feet in the air and their sixty feet of + body and tail racing and thrashing after them. They are all gone now, + every one of them; just a few fossil remnants of them left on this + far-flung fringe of time. + </p> + <p> + “It took all those years to get one of those creatures properly + constructed to proceed to the next step. Then came the pterodactyl, who + thought all that preparation all those millions of years had been intended + to produce him, for there wasn't anything too foolish for a pterodactyl to + imagine. I suppose he did attract a good deal of attention, for even the + least observant could see that there was the making of a bird in him, also + the making of a mammal, in the course of time. You can't say too much for + the picturesqueness of the pterodactyl—he was the triumph of his + period. He wore wings and had teeth, and was a starchy-looking creature. + But the progression went right along. + </p> + <p> + “During the next thirty million years the bird arrived, and the + kangaroo, and by and by the mastodon, and the giant sloth, and the Irish + elk, and the old Silurian ass, and some people thought that man was about + due. But that was a mistake, for the next thing they knew there came a + great ice-sheet, and those creatures all escaped across the Bering Strait + and wandered around in Asia and died, all except a few to carry on the + preparation with. There were six of those glacial periods, with two + million years or so between each. They chased those poor orphans up and + down the earth, from weather to weather, from tropic temperature to fifty + degrees below. They never knew what kind of weather was going to turn up + next, and if they settled any place the whole continent suddenly sank from + under them, and they had to make a scramble for dry land. Sometimes a + volcano would turn itself loose just as they got located. They led that + uncertain, strenuous existence for about twenty-five million years, always + wondering what was going to happen next, never suspecting that it was just + a preparation for man, who had to be done just so or there wouldn't be any + proper or harmonious place for him when he arrived, and then at last the + monkey came, and everybody could see at a glance that man wasn't far off + now, and that was true enough. The monkey went on developing for close + upon five million years, and then he turned into a man—to all + appearances. + </p> + <p> + “It does look like a lot of fuss and trouble to go through to build + anything, especially a human being, and nowhere along the way is there any + evidence of where he picked up that final asset—his imagination. It + makes him different from the others—not any better, but certainly + different. Those earlier animals didn't have it, and the monkey hasn't it + or he wouldn't be so cheerful.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Paine records Twain's thoughts in that magnificent essay: “Was the + World Made for Man” published long after his death in the group of + essays under the title “Letters from the Earth.” There are minor + additions in the published version: “coal to fry the fish”; and + the remnants of life being chased from pole to pole “without a dry + rag on them,”; and the “coat of paint” on top of the bulb on top + the Eiffel Tower representing “man's portion of this world's + history.” Ed.] +</pre> + <p> + He often held forth on the shortcomings of the human race—always a + favorite subject—the incompetencies and imperfections of this final + creation, in spite of, or because of, his great attribute—the + imagination. Once (this was in the billiard-room) I started him by saying + that whatever the conditions in other planets, there seemed no reason why + life should not develop in each, adapted as perfectly to prevailing + conditions as man is suited to conditions here. He said: + </p> + <p> + “Is it your idea, then, that man is perfectly adapted to the + conditions of this planet?” + </p> + <p> + I began to qualify, rather weakly; but what I said did not matter. He was + off on his favorite theme. + </p> + <p> + “Man adapted to the earth?” he said. “Why, he can't + sleep out-of-doors without freezing to death or getting the rheumatism or + the malaria; he can't keep his nose under water over a minute without + being drowned; he can't climb a tree without falling out and breaking his + neck. Why, he's the poorest, clumsiest excuse of all the creatures that + inhabit this earth. He has got to be coddled and housed and swathed and + bandaged and up holstered to be able to live at all. He is a rickety sort + of a thing, anyway you take him, a regular British Museum of infirmities + and inferiorities. He is always under going repairs. A machine that is as + unreliable as he is would have no market. The higher animals get their + teeth without pain or inconvenience. The original cave man, the + troglodyte, may have got his that way. But now they come through months + and months of cruel torture, and at a time of life when he is least able + to bear it. As soon as he gets them they must all be pulled out again, for + they were of no value in the first place, not worth the loss of a night's + rest. The second set will answer for a while; but he will never get a set + that can be depended on until the dentist makes one. The animals are not + much troubled that way. In a wild state, a natural state, they have few + diseases; their main one is old age. But man starts in as a child and + lives on diseases to the end as a regular diet. He has mumps, measles, + whooping-cough, croup, tonsilitis, diphtheria, scarlet-fever, as a matter + of course. Afterward, as he goes along, his life continues to be + threatened at every turn by colds, coughs, asthma, bronchitis, quinsy, + consumption, yellow-fever, blindness, influenza, carbuncles, pneumonia, + softening of the brain, diseases of the heart and bones, and a thousand + other maladies of one sort and another. He's just a basketful of + festering, pestilent corruption, provided for the support and + entertainment of microbes. Look at the workmanship of him in some of its + particulars. What are his tonsils for? They perform no useful function; + they have no value. They are but a trap for tonsilitis and quinsy. And + what is the appendix for? It has no value. Its sole interest is to lie and + wait for stray grape-seeds and breed trouble. What is his beard for? It is + just a nuisance. All nations persecute it with the razor. Nature, however, + always keeps him supplied with it, instead of putting it on his head, + where it ought to be. You seldom see a man bald-headed on his chin, but on + his head. A man wants to keep his hair. It is a graceful ornament, a + comfort, the best of all protections against weather, and he prizes it + above emeralds and rubies, and Nature half the time puts it on so it won't + stay. + </p> + <p> + “Man's sight and smell and hearing are all inferior. If he were + suited to the conditions he could smell an enemy; he could hear him; he + could see him, just as the animals can detect their enemies. The robin + hears the earthworm burrowing his course under the ground; the bloodhound + follows a scent that is two days old. Man isn't even handsome, as compared + with the birds; and as for style, look at the Bengal tiger—that + ideal of grace, physical perfection, and majesty. Think of the lion and + the tiger and the leopard, and then think of man—that poor thing!—the + animal of the wig, the ear-trumpet, the glass eye, the porcelain teeth, + the wooden leg, the trepanned skull, the silver wind-pipe—a creature + that is mended and patched all over from top to bottom. If he can't get + renewals of his bric-a-brac in the next world what will he look like? He + has just that one stupendous superiority—his imagination, his + intellect. It makes him supreme—the higher animals can't match him + there. It's very curious.” + </p> + <p> + A letter which he wrote to J. Howard Moore concerning his book The + Universal Kinship was of this period, and seems to belong here. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR MR. MOORE, The book has furnished me several days of deep + pleasure & satisfaction; it has compelled my gratitude at the same + time, since it saves me the labor of stating my own long-cherished + opinions & reflections & resentments by doing it lucidly & fervently + & irascibly for me. + + There is one thing that always puzzles me: as inheritors of the + mentality of our reptile ancestors we have improved the inheritance + by a thousand grades; but in the matter of the morals which they + left us we have gone backward as many grades. That evolution is + strange & to me unaccountable & unnatural. Necessarily we started + equipped with their perfect and blemishless morals; now we are + wholly destitute; we have no real morals, but only artificial ones + —morals created and preserved by the forced suppression of natural + & healthy instincts. Yes, we are a sufficiently comical invention, + we humans. + + Sincerely yours, + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0262" id="link2H_4_0262"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLIII. AN EVENING WITH HELEN KELLER + </h2> + <p> + I recall two pleasant social events of that winter: one a little party + given at the Clemenses' home on New-Year's Eve, with charades and + story-telling and music. It was the music feature of this party that was + distinctive; it was supplied by wire through an invention known as the + telharmonium which, it was believed, would revolutionize musical + entertainment in such places as hotels, and to some extent in private + houses. The music came over the regular telephone wire, and was delivered + through a series of horns or megaphones—similar to those used for + phonographs—the playing being done, meanwhile, by skilled performers + at the central station. Just why the telharmonium has not made good its + promises of popularity I do not know. Clemens was filled with enthusiasm + over the idea. He made a speech a little before midnight, in which he told + how he had generally been enthusiastic about inventions which had turned + out more or less well in about equal proportions. He did not dwell on the + failures, but he told how he had been the first to use a typewriter for + manuscript work; how he had been one of the earliest users of the + fountain-pen; how he had installed the first telephone ever used in a + private house, and how the audience now would have a demonstration of the + first telharmonium music so employed. It was just about the stroke of + midnight when he finished, and a moment later the horns began to play + chimes and “Auld Lang Syne” and “America.” + </p> + <p> + The other pleasant evening referred to was a little company given in honor + of Helen Keller. It was fascinating to watch her, and to realize with what + a store of knowledge she had lighted the black silence of her physical + life. To see Mark Twain and Helen Keller together was something not easily + to be forgotten. When Mrs. Macy (who, as Miss Sullivan, had led her so + marvelously out of the shadows) communicated his words to her with what + seemed a lightning touch of the fingers her face radiated every shade of + his meaning-humorous, serious, pathetic. Helen visited the various objects + in the room, and seemed to enjoy them more than the usual observer of + these things, and certainly in greater detail. Her sensitive fingers + spread over articles of bric-a-brac, and the exclamations she uttered were + always fitting, showing that she somehow visualized each thing in all its + particulars. There was a bronze cat of handsome workmanship and happy + expression, and when she had run those all—seeing fingers of hers + over it she said: “It is smiling.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0263" id="link2H_4_0263"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLIV. BILLIARD-ROOM NOTES + </h2> + <p> + The billiard games went along pretty steadily that winter. My play + improved, and Clemens found it necessary to eliminate my odds altogether, + and to change the game frequently in order to keep me in subjection. + Frequently there were long and apparently violent arguments over the + legitimacy of some particular shot or play—arguments to us quite as + enjoyable as the rest of the game. Sometimes he would count a shot which + was clearly out of the legal limits, and then it was always a delight to + him to have a mock-serious discussion over the matter of conscience, and + whether or not his conscience was in its usual state of repair. It would + always end by him saying: “I don't wish even to seem to do anything + which can invite suspicion. I refuse to count that shot,” or + something of like nature. Sometimes when I had let a questionable play + pass without comment, he would watch anxiously until I had made a similar + one and then insist on my scoring it to square accounts. His conscience + was always repairing itself. + </p> + <p> + He had experimented, a great many years before, with what was in the + nature of a trick on some unsuspecting player. It consisted in turning out + twelve pool-balls on the table with one cue ball, and asking his guest how + many caroms he thought he could make with all those twelve balls to play + on. He had learned that the average player would seldom make more than + thirty-one counts, and usually, before this number was reached, he would + miss through some careless play or get himself into a position where he + couldn't play at all. The thing looked absurdly easy. It looked as if one + could go on playing all day long, and the victim was usually eager to bet + that he could make fifty or perhaps a hundred; but for more than an hour I + tried it patiently, and seldom succeeded in scoring more than fifteen or + twenty without missing. Long after the play itself ceased to be amusing to + me, he insisted on my going on and trying it some more, and he would throw + himself back and roar with laughter, the tears streaming down his cheeks, + to see me work and fume and fail. + </p> + <p> + It was very soon after that that Peter Dunne (“Mr. Dooley”) + came down for luncheon, and after several games of the usual sort, Clemens + quietly—as if the idea had just occurred to him—rolled out the + twelve balls and asked Dunne how, many caroms he thought he could make + without a miss. Dunne said he thought he could make a thousand. Clemens + quite indifferently said that he didn't believe he could make fifty. Dunne + offered to bet five dollars that he could, and the wager was made. Dunne + scored about twenty-five the first time and missed; then he insisted on + betting five dollars again, and his defeats continued until Clemens had + twenty-five dollars of Dunne's money, and Dunne was sweating and swearing, + and Mark Twain rocking with delight. Dunne went away still unsatisfied, + promising that he would come back and try it again. Perhaps he practised + in his absence, for when he returned he had learned something. He won his + twenty-five dollars back, and I think something more added. Mark Twain was + still ahead, for Dunne furnished him with a good five hundred dollars' + worth of amusement. + </p> + <p> + Clemens never cared to talk and never wished to be talked to when the game + was actually in progress. If there was anything to be said on either side, + he would stop and rest his cue on the floor, or sit down on the couch, + until the matter was concluded. Such interruptions happened pretty + frequently, and many of the bits of personal comment and incident + scattered along through this work are the result of those brief rests. + Some shot, or situation, or word would strike back through the past and + awaken a note long silent, and I generally kept a pad and pencil on the + window-sill with the score-sheet, and later, during his play, I would + scrawl some reminder that would be precious by and by. + </p> + <p> + On one of these I find a memorandum of what he called his three recurrent + dreams. All of us have such things, but his seem worth remembering. + </p> + <p> + “There is never a month passes,” he said, “that I do not + dream of being in reduced circumstances, and obliged to go back to the + river to earn a living. It is never a pleasant dream, either. I love to + think about those days; but there's always something sickening about the + thought that I have been obliged to go back to them; and usually in my + dream I am just about to start into a black shadow without being able to + tell whether it is Selma bluff, or Hat Island, or only a black wall of + night. + </p> + <p> + “Another dream that I have of that kind is being compelled to go + back to the lecture platform. I hate that dream worse than the other. In + it I am always getting up before an audience with nothing to say, trying + to be funny; trying to make the audience laugh, realizing that I am only + making silly jokes. Then the audience realizes it, and pretty soon they + commence to get up and leave. That dream always ends by my standing there + in the semidarkness talking to an empty house. + </p> + <p> + “My other dream is of being at a brilliant gathering in my + night-garments. People don't seem to notice me there at first, and then + pretty soon somebody points me out, and they all begin to look at me + suspiciously, and I can see that they are wondering who I am and why I am + there in that costume. Then it occurs to me that I can fix it by making + myself known. I take hold of some man and whisper to him, 'I am Mark + Twain'; but that does not improve it, for immediately I can hear him + whispering to the others, 'He says he is Mark Twain,' and they all look at + me a good deal more suspiciously than before, and I can see that they + don't believe it, and that it was a mistake to make that confession. + Sometimes, in that dream, I am dressed like a tramp instead of being in my + night-clothes; but it all ends about the same—they go away and leave + me standing there, ashamed. I generally enjoy my dreams, but not those + three, and they are the ones I have oftenest.” + </p> + <p> + Quite often some curious episode of the world's history would flash upon + him—something amusing, or coarse, or tragic, and he would bring the + game to a standstill and recount it with wonderful accuracy as to date and + circumstance. He had a natural passion for historic events and a gift for + mentally fixing them, but his memory in other ways was seldom reliable. He + was likely to forget the names even of those he knew best and saw + oftenest, and the small details of life seldom registered at all. + </p> + <p> + He had his breakfast served in his room, and once, on a slip of paper, he + wrote, for his own reminder: + </p> + <p> + The accuracy of your forgetfulness is absolute—it seems never to + fail. I prepare to pour my coffee so it can cool while I shave—and I + always forget to pour it. + </p> + <p> + Yet, very curiously, he would sometimes single out a minute detail, + something every one else had overlooked, and days or even weeks afterward + would recall it vividly, and not always at an opportune moment. Perhaps + this also was a part of his old pilot-training. Once Clara Clemens + remarked: + </p> + <p> + “It always amazes me the things that father does and does not + remember. Some little trifle that nobody else would notice, and you are + hoping that he didn't, will suddenly come back to him just when you least + expect it or care for it.” + </p> + <p> + My note-book contains the entry: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + February 11, 1907. He said to-day: + + “A blindfolded chess-player can remember every play and discuss the + game afterward, while we can't remember from one shot to the next.” + + I mentioned his old pilot-memory as an example of what he could do + if he wished. + + “Yes,” he answered, “those are special memories; a pilot will tell + you the number of feet in every crossing at any time, but he can't + remember what he had for breakfast.” + + “How long did you keep your pilot-memory?” I asked. + + “Not long; it faded out right away, but the training served me, for + when I went to report on a paper a year or two later I never had to + make any notes.” + + “I suppose you still remember some of the river?” + + “Not much. Hat Island, Helena and here and there a place; but that + is about all.” + </pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0264" id="link2H_4_0264"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLV. FURTHER PERSONALITIES + </h2> + <p> + Like every person living, Mark Twain had some peculiar and petty + economies. Such things in great men are noticeable. He lived + extravagantly. His household expenses at the time amounted to more than + fifty dollars a day. In the matter of food, the choicest, and most + expensive the market could furnish was always served in lavish abundance. + He had the best and highest-priced servants, ample as to number. His + clothes he bought generously; he gave without stint to his children; his + gratuities were always liberal. He never questioned pecuniary outgoes—seldom + worried as to the state of his bank-account so long as there was plenty. + He smoked cheap cigars because he preferred their flavor. Yet he had his + economies. I have seen him, before leaving a room, go around and carefully + lower the gas-jets, to provide against that waste. I have known him to + examine into the cost of a cab, and object to an apparent overcharge of a + few cents. + </p> + <p> + It seemed that his idea of economy might be expressed in these words: He + abhorred extortion and visible waste. + </p> + <p> + Furthermore, he had exact ideas as to ownership. One evening, while we + were playing billiards, I noticed a five-cent piece on the floor. I picked + it up, saying: + </p> + <p> + “Here is five cents; I don't know whose it is.” + </p> + <p> + He regarded the coin rather seriously, I thought, and said: + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, either.” + </p> + <p> + I laid it on the top of the book-shelves which ran around the room. The + play went on, and I forgot the circumstance. When the game ended that + night I went into his room with him, as usual, for a good-night word. As + he took his change and keys from the pocket of his trousers, he looked the + assortment over and said: + </p> + <p> + “That five-cent piece you found was mine.” + </p> + <p> + I brought it to him at once, and he took it solemnly, laid it with the + rest of his change, and neither of us referred to it again. It may have + been one of his jokes, but I think it more likely that he remembered + having had a five-cent piece, probably reserved for car fare, and that it + was missing. + </p> + <p> + More than once, in Washington, he had said: + </p> + <p> + “Draw plenty of money for incidental expenses. Don't bother to keep + account of them.” + </p> + <p> + So it was not miserliness; it was just a peculiarity, a curious attention + to a trifling detail. + </p> + <p> + He had a fondness for riding on the then newly completed Subway, which he + called the Underground. Sometimes he would say: + </p> + <p> + “I'll pay your fare on the Underground if you want to take a ride + with me.” And he always insisted on paying the fare, and once when I + rode far up-town with him to a place where he was going to luncheon, and + had taken him to the door, he turned and said, gravely: + </p> + <p> + “Here is five cents to pay your way home.” And I took it in + the same spirit in which it had been offered. It was probably this trait + which caused some one occasionally to claim that Mark Twain was close in + money matters. Perhaps there may have been times in his life when he was + parsimonious; but, if so, I must believe that it was when he was sorely + pressed and exercising the natural instinct of self-preservation. He + wished to receive the full value (who does not?) of his labors and + properties. He took a childish delight in piling up money; but it became + greed only when he believed some one with whom he had dealings was trying + to get an unfair division of profits. Then it became something besides + greed. It became an indignation that amounted to malevolence. I was + concerned in a number of dealings with Mark Twain, and at a period in his + life when human traits are supposed to become exaggerated, which is to say + old age, and if he had any natural tendency to be unfair, or small, or + greedy in his money dealings I think I should have seen it. Personally, I + found him liberal to excess, and I never observed in him anything less + than generosity to those who were fair with him. + </p> + <p> + Once that winter, when a letter came from Steve Gillis saying that he was + an invalid now, and would have plenty of time to read Sam's books if he + owned them, Clemens ordered an expensive set from his publishers, and did + what meant to him even more than the cost in money—he autographed + each of those twenty-five volumes. Then he sent them, charges paid, to + that far Californian retreat. It was hardly the act of a stingy man. + </p> + <p> + He had the human fondness for a compliment when it was genuine and from an + authoritative source, and I remember how pleased he was that winter with + Prof. William Lyon Phelps's widely published opinion, which ranked Mark + Twain as the greatest American novelist, and declared that his fame would + outlive any American of his time. Phelps had placed him above Holmes, + Howells, James, and even Hawthorne. He had declared him to be more + American than any of these—more American even than Whitman. + Professor Phelps's position in Yale College gave this opinion a certain + official weight; but I think the fact of Phelps himself being a writer of + great force, with an American freshness of style, gave it a still greater + value. + </p> + <p> + Among the pleasant things that winter was a meeting with Eugene F. Ware, + of Kansas, with whose penname—“Ironquill”—Clemens + had long been familiar. + </p> + <p> + Ware was a breezy Western genius of the finest type. If he had abandoned + law for poetry, there is no telling how far his fame might have reached. + There was in his work that same spirit of Americanism and humor and + humanity that is found in Mark Twain's writings, and he had the added + faculty of rhyme and rhythm, which would have set him in a place apart. I + had known Ware personally during a period of Western residence, and later, + when he was Commissioner of Pensions under Roosevelt. I usually saw him + when he came to New York, and it was a great pleasure now to bring + together the two men whose work I so admired. They met at a small private + luncheon at The Players, and Peter Dunne was there, and Robert Collier, + and it was such an afternoon as Howells has told of when he and Aldrich + and Bret Harte and those others talked until the day faded into twilight, + and twilight deepened into evening. Clemens had put in most of the day + before reading Ware's book of poems, 'The Rhymes of Ironquill', and had + declared his work to rank with the very greatest of American poetry—I + think he called it the most truly American in flavor. I remember that at + the luncheon he noted Ware's big, splendid physique and his Western + liberties of syntax with a curious intentness. I believe he regarded him + as being nearer his own type in mind and expression than any one he had + met before. + </p> + <p> + Among Ware's poems he had been especially impressed with the “Fables,” + and with some verses entitled “Whist,” which, though rather + more optimistic, conformed to his own philosophy. They have a distinctly + “Western” feeling. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + WHIST + Hour after hour the cards were fairly shuffled, + And fairly dealt, and still I got no hand; + The morning came; but I, with mind unruffled, + Did simply say, “I do not understand.” + Life is a game of whist. From unseen sources + The cards are shuffled, and the hands are dealt. + Blind are our efforts to control the forces + That, though unseen, are no less strongly felt. + I do not like the way the cards are shuffled, + But still I like the game and want to play; + And through the long, long night will I, unruffled, + Play what I get, until the break of day. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0265" id="link2H_4_0265"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VOLUME III, Part 2: 1907-1910 + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0266" id="link2H_4_0266"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLVI. HONORS FROM OXFORD + </h2> + <p> + Clemens made a brief trip to Bermuda during the winter, taking Twichell + along; their first return to the island since the trip when they had + promised to come back so soon-nearly thirty years before. They had been + comparatively young men then. They were old now, but they found the green + island as fresh and full of bloom as ever. They did not find their old + landlady; they could not even remember her name at first, and then + Twichell recalled that it was the same as an author of certain schoolbooks + in his youth, and Clemens promptly said, “Kirkham's Grammar.” + Kirkham was truly the name, and they went to find her; but she was dead, + and the daughter, who had been a young girl in that earlier time, reigned + in her stead and entertained the successors of her mother's guests. They + walked and drove about the island, and it was like taking up again a + long-discontinued book and reading another chapter of the same tale. It + gave Mark Twain a fresh interest in Bermuda, one which he did not allow to + fade again. + </p> + <p> + Later in the year (March, 1907) I also made a journey; it having been + agreed that I should take a trip to the Mississippi and to the Pacific + coast to see those old friends of Mark Twain's who were so rapidly passing + away. John Briggs was still alive, and other Hannibal schoolmates; also + Joe Goodman and Steve Gillis, and a few more of the early pioneers—all + eminently worth seeing in the matter of such work as I had in hand. The + billiard games would be interrupted; but whatever reluctance to the plan + there may have been on that account was put aside in view of prospective + benefits. Clemens, in fact, seemed to derive joy from the thought that he + was commissioning a kind of personal emissary to his old comrades, and + provided me with a letter of credentials. + </p> + <p> + It was a long, successful trip that I made, and it was undertaken none too + soon. John Briggs, a gentle-hearted man, was already entering the valley + of the shadow as he talked to me by his fire one memorable afternoon, and + reviewed the pranks of those days along the river and in the cave and on + Holliday's Hill. I think it was six weeks later that he died; and there + were others of that scattering procession who did not reach the end of the + year. Joe Goodman, still full of vigor (in 1912), journeyed with me to the + green and dreamy solitudes of Jackass Hill to see Steve and Jim Gillis, + and that was an unforgetable Sunday when Steve Gillis, an invalid, but + with the fire still in his eyes and speech, sat up on his couch in his + little cabin in that Arcadian stillness and told old tales and adventures. + When I left he said: + </p> + <p> + “Tell Sam I'm going to die pretty soon, but that I love him; that + I've loved him all my life, and I'll love him till I die. This is the last + word I'll ever send to him.” Jim Gillis, down in Sonora, was already + lying at the point of death, and so for him the visit was too late, though + he was able to receive a message from his ancient mining partner, and to + send back a parting word. + </p> + <p> + I returned by way of New Orleans and the Mississippi River, for I wished + to follow that abandoned water highway, and to visit its presiding genius, + Horace Bixby,—[He died August 2, 1912, at the age of 86]—still + alive and in service as pilot of the government snagboat, his headquarters + at St. Louis. + </p> + <p> + Coming up the river on one of the old passenger steam boats that still + exist, I noticed in a paper which came aboard that Mark Twain was to + receive from Oxford University the literary doctor's degree. There had + been no hint of this when I came away, and it seemed rather too sudden and + too good to be true. That the little barefoot lad that had played along + the river-banks at Hannibal, and received such meager advantages in the + way of schooling—whose highest ambition had been to pilot such a + craft as this one—was about to be crowned by the world's greatest + institution of learning, to receive the highest recognition for + achievement in the world of letters, was a thing which would not be likely + to happen outside of a fairy tale. + </p> + <p> + Returning to New York, I ran out to Tuxedo, where he had taken a home for + the summer (for it was already May), and walking along the shaded paths of + that beautiful suburban park, he told me what he knew of the Oxford + matter. + </p> + <p> + Moberly Bell, of the London Times, had been over in April, and soon after + his return to England there had come word of the proposed honor. Clemens + privately and openly (to Bell) attributed it largely to his influence. He + wrote to him: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR MR. BELL,—Your hand is in it & you have my best thanks. + Although I wouldn't cross an ocean again for the price of the ship + that carried me I am glad to do it for an Oxford degree. I shall + plan to sail for England a shade before the middle of June, so that + I can have a few days in London before the 26th. +</pre> + <p> + A day or two later, when the time for sailing had been arranged, he + overtook his letter with a cable: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I perceive your hand in it. You have my best thanks. Sail on + Minneapolis June 8th. Due in Southampton ten days later. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens said that his first word of the matter had been a newspaper + cablegram, and that he had been doubtful concerning it until a cablegram + to himself had confirmed it. + </p> + <p> + “I never expected to cross the water again,” he said; “but + I would be willing to journey to Mars for that Oxford degree.” + </p> + <p> + He put the matter aside then, and fell to talking of Jim Gillis and the + others I had visited, dwelling especially on Gillis's astonishing faculty + for improvising romances, recalling how he had stood with his back to the + fire weaving his endless, grotesque yarns, with no other guide than his + fancy. It was a long, happy walk we had, though rather a sad one in its + memories; and he seemed that day, in a sense, to close the gate of those + early scenes behind him, for he seldom referred to them afterward. + </p> + <p> + He was back at 21 Fifth Avenue presently, arranging for his voyage. + Meantime, cable invitations of every sort were pouring in, from this and + that society and dignitary; invitations to dinners and ceremonials, and + what not, and it was clear enough that his English sojourn was to be a + busy one. He had hoped to avoid this, and began by declining all but two + invitations—a dinner-party given by Ambassador Whitelaw Reid and a + luncheon proposed by the “Pilgrims.” But it became clear that + this would not do. England was not going to confer its greatest collegiate + honor without being permitted to pay its wider and more popular tribute. + </p> + <p> + Clemens engaged a special secretary for the trip—Mr. Ralph W. + Ashcroft, a young Englishman familiar with London life. They sailed on the + 8th of June, by a curious coincidence exactly forty years from the day he + had sailed on the Quaker City to win his great fame. I went with him to + the ship. His first elation had passed by this time, and he seemed a + little sad, remembering, I think, the wife who would have enjoyed this + honor with him but could not share it now. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0267" id="link2H_4_0267"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLVII. A TRUE ENGLISH WELCOME + </h2> + <p> + Mark Twain's trip across the Atlantic would seem to have been a pleasant + one. The Minneapolis is a fine, big ship, and there was plenty of company. + Prof. Archibald Henderson, Bernard Shaw's biographer, was aboard;—[Professor + Henderson has since then published a volume on Mark Twain-an interesting + commentary on his writings—mainly from the sociological point of + view.]—also President Patton, of the Princeton Theological Seminary; + a well-known cartoonist, Richards, and some very attractive young people—school-girls + in particular, such as all through his life had appealed to Mark Twain. + Indeed, in his later life they made a stronger appeal than ever. The years + had robbed him of his own little flock, and always he was trying to + replace them. Once he said: + </p> + <p> + “During those years after my wife's death I was washing about on a + forlorn sea of banquets and speech-making in high and holy causes, and + these things furnished me intellectual cheer, and entertainment; but they + got at my heart for an evening only, then left it dry and dusty. I had + reached the grandfather stage of life without grandchildren, so I began to + adopt some.” + </p> + <p> + He adopted several on that journey to England and on the return voyage, + and he kept on adopting others during the rest of his life. These + companionships became one of the happiest aspects of his final days, as we + shall see by and by. + </p> + <p> + There were entertainments on the ship, one of them given for the benefit + of the Seamen's Orphanage. One of his adopted granddaughters—“Charley” + he called her—played a violin solo and Clemens made a speech. Later + his autographs were sold at auction. Dr. Patton was auctioneer, and one + autographed postal card brought twenty-five dollars, which is perhaps the + record price for a single Mark Twain signature. He wore his white suit on + this occasion, and in the course of his speech referred to it. He told + first of the many defects in his behavior, and how members of his + household had always tried to keep him straight. The children, he said, + had fallen into the habit of calling it “dusting papa off.” + Then he went on: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When my daughter came to see me off last Saturday at the boat she + slipped a note in my hand and said, “Read it when you get aboard the + ship.” I didn't think of it again until day before yesterday, and + it was a “dusting off.” And if I carry out all the instructions + that I got there I shall be more celebrated in England for my + behavior than for anything else. I got instructions how to act on + every occasion. She underscored “Now, don't you wear white clothes + on ship or on shore until you get back,” and I intended to obey. I + have been used to obeying my family all my life, but I wore the + white clothes to-night because the trunk that has the dark clothes + in it is in the cellar. I am not apologizing for the white clothes; + I am only apologizing to my daughter for not obeying her. +</pre> + <p> + He received a great welcome when the ship arrived at Tilbury. A throng of + rapid-fire reporters and photographers immediately surrounded him, and + when he left the ship the stevedores gave him a round of cheers. It was + the beginning of that almost unheard-of demonstration of affection and + honor which never for a moment ceased, but augmented from day to day + during the four weeks of his English sojourn. + </p> + <p> + In a dictation following his return, Mark Twain said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Who began it? The very people of all people in the world whom I + would have chosen: a hundred men of my own class—grimy sons of + labor, the real builders of empires and civilizations, the + stevedores! They stood in a body on the dock and charged their + masculine lungs, and gave me a welcome which went to the marrow of + me. +</pre> + <p> + J. Y. W. MacAlister was at the St. Pancras railway station to meet him, + and among others on the platform was Bernard Shaw, who had come down to + meet Professor Henderson. Clemens and Shaw were presented, and met + eagerly, for each greatly admired the other. A throng gathered. Mark Twain + was extricated at last, and hurried away to his apartments at Brown's + Hotel, “a placid, subdued, homelike, old-fashioned English inn,” + he called it, “well known to me years ago, a blessed retreat of a + sort now rare in England, and becoming rarer every year.” + </p> + <p> + But Brown's was not placid and subdued during his stay. The London + newspapers declared that Mark Twain's arrival had turned Brown's not only + into a royal court, but a post-office—that the procession of + visitors and the bundles of mail fully warranted this statement. It was, + in fact, an experience which surpassed in general magnitude and + magnificence anything he had hitherto known. His former London visits, + beginning with that of 1872, had been distinguished by high attentions, + but all of them combined could not equal this. When England decides to get + up an ovation, her people are not to be outdone even by the lavish + Americans. An assistant secretary had to be engaged immediately, and it + sometimes required from sixteen to twenty hours a day for two skilled and + busy men to receive callers and reduce the pile of correspondence. + </p> + <p> + A pile of invitations had already accumulated, and others flowed in. Lady + Stanley, widow of Henry M. Stanley, wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + You know I want to see you and join right hand to right hand. I + must see your dear face again.... You will have no peace, + rest, or leisure during your stay in London, and you will end by + hating human beings. Let me come before you feel that way. +</pre> + <p> + Mary Cholmondeley, the author of Red Pottage, niece of that lovable + Reginald Cholmondeley, and herself an old friend, sent greetings and + urgent invitations. Archdeacon Wilberforce wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have just been preaching about your indictment of that scoundrel + king of the Belgians and telling my people to buy the book. I am + only a humble item among the very many who offer you a cordial + welcome in England, but we long to see you again, and I should like + to change hats with you again. Do you remember? +</pre> + <p> + The Athenaeum, the Garrick, and a dozen other London clubs had anticipated + his arrival with cards of honorary membership for the period of his stay. + Every leading photographer had put in a claim for sittings. It was such a + reception as Charles Dickens had received in America in 1842, and again in + 1867. A London paper likened it to Voltaire's return to Paris in 1778, + when France went mad over him. There is simply no limit to English + affection and, hospitality once aroused. Clemens wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Surely such weeks as this must be very rare in this world: I had + seen nothing like them before; I shall see nothing approaching them + again! +</pre> + <p> + Sir Thomas Lipton and Bram Stoker, old friends, were among the first to + present themselves, and there was no break in the line of callers. + </p> + <p> + Clemens's resolutions for secluding himself were swept away. On the very + next morning following his arrival he breakfasted with J. Henniker Heaton, + father of International Penny Postage, at the Bath Club, just across Dover + Street from Brown's. He lunched at the Ritz with Marjorie Bowen and Miss + Bisland. In the afternoon he sat for photographs at Barnett's, and made + one or two calls. He could no more resist these things than a debutante in + her first season. + </p> + <p> + He was breakfasting again with Heaton next morning; lunching with “Toby, + M.P.,” and Mrs. Lucy; and having tea with Lady Stanley in the + afternoon, and being elaborately dined next day at Dorchester House by + Ambassador and Mrs. Reid. These were all old and tried friends. He was not + a stranger among them, he said; he was at home. Alfred Austin, Conan + Doyle, Anthony Hope, Alma Tadema, E. A. Abbey, Edmund Goss, George + Smalley, Sir Norman Lockyer, Henry W. Lucy, Sidney Brooks, and Bram Stoker + were among those at Dorchester House—all old comrades, as were many + of the other guests. + </p> + <p> + “I knew fully half of those present,” he said afterward. + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain's bursting upon London society naturally was made the most of + by the London papers, and all his movements were tabulated and elaborated, + and when there was any opportunity for humor in the situation it was not + left unimproved. The celebrated Ascot racing-cup was stolen just at the + time of his arrival, and the papers suggestively mingled their head-lines, + “Mark Twain Arrives: Ascot Cup Stolen,” and kept the joke + going in one form or another. Certain state jewels and other regalia also + disappeared during his stay, and the news of these burglaries was reported + in suspicious juxtaposition with the news of Mark Twain's doings. + </p> + <p> + English reporters adopted American habits for the occasion, and invented + or embellished when the demand for a new sensation was urgent. Once, when + following the custom of the place, he descended the hotel elevator in a + perfectly proper and heavy brown bath robe, and stepped across narrow + Dover Street to the Bath Club, the papers flamed next day with the story + that Mark Twain had wandered about the lobby of Brown's and promenaded + Dover Street in a sky-blue bath robe attracting wide attention. + </p> + <p> + Clara Clemens, across the ocean, was naturally a trifle disturbed by such + reports, and cabled this delicate “dusting off”: + </p> + <p> + “Much worried. Remember proprieties.” + </p> + <p> + To which he answered: + </p> + <p> + “They all pattern after me,” a reply to the last degree + characteristic. + </p> + <p> + It was on the fourth day after his arrival, June 22d, that he attended the + King's garden-party at Windsor Castle. There were eighty-five hundred + guests at the King's party, and if we may judge from the London + newspapers, Mark Twain was quite as much a figure in that great throng as + any member of the royal family. His presentation to the King and the Queen + is set down as an especially notable incident, and their conversation is + quite fully given. Clemens himself reported: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + His Majesty was very courteous. In the course of the conversation + I reminded him of an episode of fifteen years ago, when I had the + honor to walk a mile with him when he was taking the waters at + Homburg, in Germany. I said that I had often told about that + episode, and that whenever I was the historian I made good history + of it and it was worth listening to, but that it had found its way + into print once or twice in unauthentic ways and was badly damaged + thereby. I said I should like to go on repeating this history, but + that I should be quite fair and reasonably honest, and while I + should probably never tell it twice in the same way I should at + least never allow it to deteriorate in my hands. His Majesty + intimated his willingness that I should continue to disseminate that + piece of history; and he added a compliment, saying that he knew + good and sound history would not suffer at my hands, and that if + this good and sound history needed any improvement beyond the facts + he would trust me to furnish that improvement. + + I think it is not an exaggeration to say that the Queen looked as + young and beautiful as she did thirty-five years ago when I saw her + first. I did not say this to her, because I learned long ago never + to say the obvious thing, but leave the obvious thing to commonplace + and inexperienced people to say. That she still looked to me as + young and beautiful as she did thirty-five years ago is good + evidence that ten thousand people have already noticed this and have + mentioned it to her. I could have said it and spoken the truth, but + I was too wise for that. I kept the remark unuttered and saved her + Majesty the vexation of hearing it the ten-thousand-and-oneth time. + + All that report about my proposal to buy Windsor Castle and its + grounds was a false rumor. I started it myself. + + One newspaper said I patted his Majesty on the shoulder—an + impertinence of which I was not guilty; I was reared in the most + exclusive circles of Missouri and I know how to behave. The King + rested his hand upon my arm a moment or two while we were chatting, + but he did it of his own accord. The newspaper which said I talked + with her Majesty with my hat on spoke the truth, but my reasons for + doing it were good and sufficient—in fact unassailable. Rain was + threatening, the temperature had cooled, and the Queen said, “Please + put your hat on, Mr. Clemens.” I begged her pardon and excused + myself from doing it. After a moment or two she said, “Mr. Clemens, + put your hat on”—with a slight emphasis on the word “on” “I can't + allow you to catch cold here.” When a beautiful queen commands it + is a pleasure to obey, and this time I obeyed—but I had already + disobeyed once, which is more than a subject would have felt + justified in doing; and so it is true, as charged; I did talk with + the Queen of England with my hat on, but it wasn't fair in the + newspaper man to charge it upon me as an impoliteness, since there + were reasons for it which he could not know of. +</pre> + <p> + Nearly all the members of the British royal family were there, and there + were foreign visitors which included the King of Siam and a party of India + princes in their gorgeous court costumes, which Clemens admired openly and + said he would like to wear himself. + </p> + <p> + The English papers spoke of it as one of the largest and most + distinguished parties ever given at Windsor. Clemens attended it in + company with Mr. and Mrs. J. Henniker Heaton, and when it was over Sir + Thomas Lipton joined them and motored with them back to Brown's. + </p> + <p> + He was at Archdeacon Wilberforce's next day, where a curious circumstance + developed. When he arrived Wilberforce said to him, in an undertone: + </p> + <p> + “Come into my library. I have something to show you.” + </p> + <p> + In the library Clemens was presented to a Mr. Pole, a plain-looking man, + suggesting in dress and appearance the English tradesman. Wilberforce + said: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Pole, show to Mr. Clemens what you have brought here.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pole unrolled a long strip of white linen and brought to view at last + a curious, saucer-looking vessel of silver, very ancient in appearance, + and cunningly overlaid with green glass. The archdeacon took it and handed + it to Clemens as some precious jewel. Clemens said: + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + Wilberforce impressively answered: + </p> + <p> + “It is the Holy Grail.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens naturally started with surprise. + </p> + <p> + “You may well start,” said Wilberforce; “but it's the + truth. That is the Holy Grail.” + </p> + <p> + Then he gave this explanation: Mr. Pole, a grain merchant of Bristol, had + developed some sort of clairvoyant power, or at all events he had dreamed + several times with great vividness the location of the true Grail. Another + dreamer, a Dr. Goodchild, of Bath, was mixed up in the matter, and between + them this peculiar vessel, which was not a cup, or a goblet, or any of the + traditional things, had been discovered. Mr. Pole seemed a man of + integrity, and it was clear that the churchman believed the discovery to + be genuine and authentic. Of course there could be no positive proof. It + was a thing that must be taken on trust. That the vessel itself was wholly + different from anything that the generations had conceived, and was + apparently of very ancient make, was opposed to the natural suggestion of + fraud. + </p> + <p> + Clemens, to whom the whole idea of the Holy Grail was simply a poetic + legend and myth, had the feeling that he had suddenly been transmigrated, + like his own Connecticut Yankee, back into the Arthurian days; but he made + no question, suggested no doubt. Whatever it was, it was to them the + materialization of a symbol of faith which ranked only second to the cross + itself, and he handled it reverently and felt the honor of having been one + of the first permitted to see the relic. In a subsequent dictation he + said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I am glad I have lived to see that half-hour—that astonishing half- + hour. In its way it stands alone in my life's experience. In the + belief of two persons present this was the very vessel which was + brought by night and secretly delivered to Nicodemus, nearly + nineteen centuries ago, after the Creator of the universe had + delivered up His life on the cross for the redemption of the human + race; the very cup which the stainless Sir Galahad had sought with + knightly devotion in far fields of peril and adventure in Arthur's + time, fourteen hundred years ago; the same cup which princely + knights of other bygone ages had laid down their lives in long and + patient efforts to find, and had passed from life disappointed—and + here it was at last, dug up by a grain-broker at no cost of blood or + travel, and apparently no purity required of him above the average + purity of the twentieth-century dealer in cereal futures; not even a + stately name required—no Sir Galahad, no Sir Bors de Ganis, no Sir + Lancelot of the Lake—nothing but a mere Mr. Pole.—[From the New + York Sun somewhat later: “Mr. Pole communicated the discovery to a + dignitary of the Church of England, who summoned a number of eminent + persons, including psychologists, to see and discuss it. Forty + attended, including some peers with ecclesiastical interests, + Ambassador Whitelaw Reid, Professor Crookas, and ministers of + various religious bodies, including the Rev. R. J. Campbell. They + heard Mr. Pole's story with deep attention, but he could not prove + the genuineness of the relic.”] +</pre> + <p> + Clemens saw Mr. and Mrs. Rogers at Claridge's Hotel that evening; lunched + with his old friends Sir Norman and Lady Lockyer next day; took tea with + T. P. O'Connor at the House of Commons, and on the day following, which + was June a 5th, he was the guest of honor at one of the most elaborate + occasions of his visit—a luncheon given by the Pilgrims at the Savoy + Hotel. It would be impossible to set down here a report of the doings, or + even a list of the guests, of that gathering. The Pilgrims is a club with + branches on both sides of the ocean, and Mark Twain, on either side, was a + favorite associate. At this luncheon the picture on the bill of fare + represented him as a robed pilgrim, with a great pen for his staff, + turning his back on the Mississippi River and being led along his literary + way by a huge jumping frog, to which he is attached by a string. On a + guest-card was printed: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Pilot of many Pilgrims since the shout + “Mark Twain!”—that serves you for a deathless sign + —On Mississippi's waterway rang out + Over the plummet's line— + Still where the countless ripples laugh above + The blue of halcyon seas long may you keep + Your course unbroken, buoyed upon a love + Ten thousand fathoms deep! + + —O. S. [OWEN SEAMAN]. +</pre> + <p> + Augustine Birrell made the speech of introduction, closing with this + paragraph: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mark Twain is a man whom Englishmen and Americans do well to honor. + He is a true consolidator of nations. His delightful humor is of + the kind which dissipates and destroys national prejudices. His + truth and his honor—his love of truth and his love of honor + —overflow all boundaries. He has made the world better by his + presence, and we rejoice to see him here. Long may he live to reap + a plentiful harvest of hearty honest human affection. +</pre> + <p> + The toast was drunk standing. Then Clemens rose and made a speech which + delighted all England. In his introduction Mr. Birrell had happened to + say, “How I came here I will not ask!” Clemens remembered + this, and looking down into Mr. Birrell's wine-glass, which was apparently + unused, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Birrell doesn't know how he got here. But he will be able to + get away all right—he has not drunk anything since he came.” + </p> + <p> + He told stories about Howells and Twichell, and how Darwin had gone to + sleep reading his books, and then he came down to personal things and + company, and told them how, on the day of his arrival, he had been shocked + to read on a great placard, “Mark Twain Arrives: Ascot Cup Stolen.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + No doubt many a person was misled by those sentences joined together + in that unkind way. I have no doubt my character has suffered from + it. I suppose I ought to defend my character, but how can I defend + it? I can say here and now that anybody can see by my face that I + am sincere—that I speak the truth, and that I have never seen that + Cup. I have not got the Cup, I did not have a chance to get it. I + have always had a good character in that way. I have hardly ever + stolen anything, and if I did steal anything I had discretion enough + to know about the value of it first. I do not steal things that are + likely to get myself into trouble. I do not think any of us do + that. I know we all take things—that is to be expected; but really + I have never taken anything, certainly in England, that amounts to + any great thing. I do confess that when I was here seven years ago + I stole a hat—but that did not amount to anything. It was not a + good hat it was only a clergyman's hat, anyway. I was at a + luncheon-party and Archdeacon Wilberforce was there also. I dare say + he is archdeacon now—he was a canon then—and he was serving in the + Westminster Battery, if that is the proper term. I do not know, as + you mix military and ecclesiastical things together so much. +</pre> + <p> + He recounted the incident of the exchanged hats; then he spoke of graver + things. He closed: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I cannot always be cheerful, and I cannot always be chaffing. I + must sometimes lay the cap and bells aside and recognize that I am + of the human race. I have my cares and griefs, and I therefore + noticed what Mr. Birrell said—I was so glad to hear him say it + —something that was in the nature of these verses here at the top + of the program: + + He lit our life with shafts of sun + And vanquished pain. + Thus two great nations stand as one + In honoring Twain. +</pre> + <p> + I am very glad to have those verses. I am very glad and very grateful for + what Mr. Birrell said in that connection. I have received since I have + been here, in this one week, hundreds of letters from all conditions of + people in England, men, women, and children, and there is compliment, + praise, and, above all, and better than all, there is in them a note of + affection. + </p> + <p> + Praise is well, compliment is well, but affection—that is the last + and final and most precious reward that any man can win, whether by + character or achievement, and I am very grateful to have that reward. All + these letters make me feel that here in England, as in America, when I + stand under the English or the American flag I am not a stranger, I am not + an alien, but at home. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0268" id="link2H_4_0268"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLVIII. DOCTOR OF LITERATURE, OXFORD + </h2> + <p> + He left, immediately following the Pilgrim luncheon, with Hon. Robert P. + Porter, of the London Times, for Oxford, to remain his guest there during + the various ceremonies. The encenia—the ceremony of conferring the + degrees—occurred at the Sheldonian Theater the following morning, + June 26, 1907. + </p> + <p> + It was a memorable affair. Among those who were to receive degrees that + morning besides Samuel Clemens were: Prince Arthur of Connaught; Prime + Minister Campbell-Bannerman; Whitelaw Reid; Rudyard Kipling; Sidney Lee; + Sidney Colvin; Lord Archbishop of Armagh, Primate of Ireland; Sir Norman + Lockyer; Auguste Rodin, the sculptor; Saint-Saens, and Gen. William Booth, + of the Salvation Army-something more than thirty, in all, of the world's + distinguished citizens. + </p> + <p> + The candidates assembled at Magdalen College, and led by Lord Curzon, the + Chancellor, and clad in their academic plumage, filed in radiant + procession to the Sheldonian Theater, a group of men such as the world + seldom sees collected together. The London Standard said of it: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + So brilliant and so interesting was the list of those who had been + selected by Oxford University on Convocation to receive degrees, + 'honoris causa', in this first year of Lord Curzon's chancellorship, + that it is small wonder that the Sheldonian Theater was besieged + today at an early hour. + + Shortly after 11 o'clock the organ started playing the strains of + “God Save the King,” and at once a great volume of sound arose as + the anthem was taken up by the undergraduates and the rest of the + assemblage. Every one stood up as, headed by the mace of office, + the procession slowly filed into the theater, under the leadership + of Lord Curzon, in all the glory of his robes of office, the long + black gown heavily embroidered with gold, the gold-tasseled mortar- + board, and the medals on his breast forming an admirable setting, + thoroughly in keeping with the dignity and bearing of the late + Viceroy of India. Following him came the members of Convocation, a + goodly number consisting of doctors of divinity, whose robes of + scarlet and black enhanced the brilliance of the scene. Robes of + salmon and scarlet-which proclaim the wearer to be a doctor of civil + law—were also seen in numbers, while here and there was a gown of + gray and scarlet, emblematic of the doctorate of science or of + letters. +</pre> + <p> + The encenia is an impressive occasion; but it is not a silent one. There + is a splendid dignity about it; but there goes with it all a sort of Greek + chorus of hilarity, the time-honored prerogative of the Oxford + undergraduate, who insists on having his joke and his merriment at the + expense of those honored guests. The degrees of doctor of law were + conferred first. Prince Arthur was treated with proper dignity by the + gallery; but when Whitelaw Reid stepped forth a voice shouted, “Where's + your Star-spangled Banner?” and when England's Prime + Minister-Campbell-Bannerman—came forward some one shouted, “What + about the House of Lords?” and so they kept it up, cheering and + chaffing, until General Booth was introduced as the “Passionate + advocate of the dregs of the people, leader of the submerged tenth,” + and “general of the Salvation Army,” when the place broke into + a perfect storm of applause, a storm that a few minutes later became, + according to the Daily News, “a veritable cyclone,” for Mark + Twain, clad in his robe of scarlet and gray, had been summoned forward to + receive the highest academic honors which the world has to give. The + undergraduates went wild then. There was such a mingling of yells and + calls and questions, such as, “Have you brought the jumping Frog + with you?” “Where is the Ascot Cup?” “Where are + the rest of the Innocents?” that it seemed as if it would not be + possible to present him at all; but, finally, Chancellor Curzon addressed + him (in Latin), “Most amiable and charming sir, you shake the sides + of the whole world with your merriment,” and the great degree was + conferred. If only Tom Sawyer could have seen him then! If only Olivia + Clemens could have sat among those who gave him welcome! But life is not + like that. There is always an incompleteness somewhere, and the shadow + across the path. + </p> + <p> + Rudyard Kipling followed—another supreme favorite, who was hailed + with the chorus, “For he's a jolly good fellow,” and then came + Saint-Satins. The prize poems and essays followed, and then the procession + of newly created doctors left the theater with Lord Curzon at their head. + So it was all over-that for which, as he said, he would have made the + journey to Mars. The world had nothing more to give him now except that + which he had already long possessed-its honor and its love. + </p> + <p> + The newly made doctors were to be the guests of Lord Curzon at All Souls + College for luncheon. As they left the theater (according to Sidney Lee): + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The people in the streets singled out Mark Twain, formed a vast and + cheering body-guard around him and escorted him to the college + gates. But before and after the lunch it was Mark Twain again whom + everybody seemed most of all to want to meet. The Maharajah of + Bikanir, for instance, finding himself seated at lunch next to Mrs. + Riggs (Kate Douglas Wiggin), and hearing that she knew Mark Twain, + asked her to present him a ceremony duly performed later on the + quadrangle. At the garden-party given the same afternoon in the + beautiful grounds of St. John's, where the indefatigable Mark put + in an appearance, it was just the same—every one pressed forward + for an exchange of greetings and a hand-shake. On the following + day, when the Oxford pageant took place, it was even more so. “Mark + Twain's Pageant,” it was called by one of the papers.—[There was a + dinner that evening at one of the colleges where, through mistaken + information, Clemens wore black evening dress when he should have + worn his scarlet gown. “When I arrived,” he said, “the place was + just a conflagration—a kind of human prairie-fire. I looked as out + of place as a Presbyterian in hell.”] +</pre> + <p> + Clemens remained the guest of Robert Porter, whose house was besieged with + those desiring a glimpse of their new doctor of letters. If he went on the + streets he was instantly recognized by some newsboy or cabman or + butcher-boy, and the word ran along like a cry of fire, while the crowds + assembled. + </p> + <p> + At a luncheon which the Porters gave him the proprietor of the catering + establishment garbed himself as a waiter in order to have the distinction + of serving Mark Twain, and declared it to have been the greatest moment of + his life. This gentleman—for he was no less than that—was a + man well-read, and his tribute was not inspired by mere snobbery. Clemens, + learning of the situation, later withdrew from the drawing-room for a talk + with him. + </p> + <p> + “I found,” he said, “that he knew about ten or fifteen + times as much about my books as I knew about them myself.” + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain viewed the Oxford pageant from a box with Rudyard Kipling and + Lord Curzon, and as they sat there some one passed up a folded slip of + paper, on the outside of which was written, “Not true.” + Opening it, they read: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + East is East and West is West, + And never the Twain shall meet, + + —a quotation from Kipling. +</pre> + <p> + They saw the panorama of history file by, a wonderful spectacle which made + Oxford a veritable dream of the Middle Ages. The lanes and streets and + meadows were thronged with such costumes as Oxford had seen in its long + history. History was realized in a manner which no one could appreciate + more fully than Mark Twain. + </p> + <p> + “I was particularly anxious to see this pageant,” he said, + “so that I could get ideas for my funeral procession, which I am + planning on a large scale.” + </p> + <p> + He was not disappointed; it was a realization to him of all the gorgeous + spectacles that his soul had dreamed from youth up. + </p> + <p> + He easily recognized the great characters of history as they passed by, + and he was recognized by them in turn; for they waved to him and bowed and + sometimes called his name, and when he went down out of his box, by and + by, Henry VIII. shook hands with him, a monarch he had always detested, + though he was full of friendship for him now; and Charles I. took off his + broad, velvet-plumed hat when they met, and Henry II. and Rosamond and + Queen Elizabeth all saluted him—ghosts of the dead centuries. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0269" id="link2H_4_0269"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLIX. LONDON SOCIAL HONORS + </h2> + <p> + We may not detail all the story of that English visit; even the path of + glory leads to monotony at last. We may only mention a few more of the + great honors paid to our unofficial ambassador to the world: among them a + dinner given to members of the Savage Club by the Lord Mayor of London at + the Mansion House, also a dinner given by the American Society at the + Hotel Cecil in honor of the Fourth of July. Clemens was the guest of + honor, and responded to the toast given by Ambassador Reid, “The Day + we Celebrate.” He made an amusing and not altogether unserious + reference to the American habit of exploding enthusiasm in dangerous + fireworks. + </p> + <p> + To English colonists he gave credit for having established American + independence, and closed: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We have, however, one Fourth of July which is absolutely our own, + and that is the memorable proclamation issued forty years ago by + that great American to whom Sir Mortimer Durand paid that just and + beautiful tribute—Abraham Lincoln: a proclamation which not only + set the black slave free, but set his white owner free also. The + owner was set free from that burden and offense, that sad condition + of things where he was in so many instances a master and owner of + slaves when he did not want to be. That proclamation set them all + free. But even in this matter England led the way, for she had set + her slaves free thirty years before, and we but followed her + example. We always follow her example, whether it is good or bad. + And it was an English judge, a century ago, that issued that other + great proclamation, and established that great principle, that when + a slave, let him belong to whom he may, and let him come whence he + may, sets his foot upon English soil his fetters, by that act, fall + away and he is a free man before the world! + + It is true, then, that all our Fourths of July, and we have five of + them, England gave to us, except that one that I have mentioned—the + Emancipation Proclamation; and let us not forget that we owe this + debt to her. Let us be able to say to old England, this great- + hearted, venerable old mother of the race, you gave us our Fourths + of July, that we love and that we honor and revere; you gave us the + Declaration of Independence, which is the charter of our rights; + you, the venerable Mother of Liberties, the Champion and Protector + of Anglo-Saxon Freedom—you gave us these things, and we do most + honestly thank you for them. +</pre> + <p> + It was at this dinner that he characteristically confessed, at last, to + having stolen the Ascot Cup. + </p> + <p> + He lunched one day with Bernard Shaw, and the two discussed the + philosophies in which they were mutually interested. Shaw regarded Clemens + as a sociologist before all else, and gave it out with great frankness + that America had produced just two great geniuses—Edgar Allan Poe + and Mark Twain. Later Shaw wrote him a note, in which he said: + </p> + <p> + I am persuaded that the future historian of America will find your works + as indispensable to him as a French historian finds the political tracts + of Voltaire. I tell you so because I am the author of a play in which a + priest says, “Telling the truth's the funniest joke in the world,” + a piece of wisdom which you helped to teach me. + </p> + <p> + Clemens saw a great deal of Moberly Bell. The two lunched and dined + privately together when there was opportunity, and often met at the public + gatherings. + </p> + <p> + The bare memorandum of the week following July Fourth will convey + something of Mark Twain's London activities: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Friday, July 5. Dined with Lord and Lady Portsmouth. + + Saturday, July 6. Breakfasted at Lord Avebury's. Lord Kelvin, Sir + Charles Lyell, and Sir Archibald Geikie were there. Sat 22 times + for photos, 16 at Histed's. Savage Club dinner in the evening. + White suit. Ascot Cup. + + Sunday, July 7. Called on Lady Langattock and others. Lunched with + Sir Norman Lockyer. + + Monday, July 8. Lunched with Plasmon directors at Bath Club. Dined + privately at C. F. Moberly Bell's. + + Tuesday, July 9. Lunched at the House with Sir Benjamin Stone. + Balfour and Komura were the other guests of honor. Punch dinner in + the evening. Joy Agnew and the cartoon. + + Wednesday, July 10. Went to Liverpool with Tay Pay. Attended + banquet in the Town Hall in the evening. + + Thursday, July 11. Returned to London with Tay Pay. Calls in the + afternoon. +</pre> + <p> + The Savage Club would inevitably want to entertain him on its own account, + and their dinner of July 6th was a handsome, affair. He felt at home with + the Savages, and put on white for the only time publicly in England. He + made them one of his reminiscent speeches, recalling his association with + them on his first visit to London, thirty-seven years before. Then he + said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + That is a long time ago, and as I had come into a very strange land, + and was with friends, as I could see, that has always remained in my + mind as a peculiarly blessed evening, since it brought me into + contact with men of my own kind and my own feelings. I am glad to + be here, and to see you all, because it is very likely that I shall + not see you again. I have been received, as you know, in the most + delightfully generous way in England ever since I came here. It + keeps me choked up all the time. Everybody is so generous, and they + do seem to give you such a hearty welcome. Nobody in the world can + appreciate it higher than I do. +</pre> + <p> + The club gave him a surprise in the course of the evening. A note was sent + to him accompanied by a parcel, which, when opened, proved to contain a + gilded plaster replica of the Ascot Gold Cup. The note said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Dere Mark, i return the Cup. You couldn't keep your mouth shut + about it. 'Tis 2 pretty 2 melt, as you want me 2; nest time I work + a pinch ile have a pard who don't make after-dinner speeches. +</pre> + <p> + There was a postcript which said: “I changed the acorn atop for + another nut with my knife.” The acorn was, in fact, replaced by a + well-modeled head of Mark Twain. + </p> + <p> + So, after all, the Ascot Cup would be one of the trophies which he would + bear home with him across the Atlantic. + </p> + <p> + Probably the most valued of his London honors was the dinner given to him + by the staff of Punch. Punch had already saluted him with a front-page + cartoon by Bernard Partridge, a picture in which the presiding genius of + that paper, Mr. Punch himself, presents him with a glass of the patronymic + beverage with the words, “Sir, I honor myself by drinking your + health. Long life to you—and happiness—and perpetual youth!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Agnew, chief editor; Linley Sambourne, Francis Burnand, Henry Lucy, + and others of the staff welcomed him at the Punch offices at 10 Bouverie + Street, in the historic Punch dining-room where Thackeray had sat, and + Douglas Jerrold, and so many of the great departed. Mark Twain was the + first foreign visitor to be so honored—in fifty years the first + stranger to sit at the sacred board—a mighty distinction. In the + course of the dinner they gave him a pretty surprise, when little joy + Agnew presented him with the original drawing of Partridge's cartoon. + </p> + <p> + Nothing could have appealed to him more, and the Punch dinner, with its + associations and that dainty presentation, remained apart in his memory + from all other feastings. + </p> + <p> + Clemens had intended to return early in July, but so much was happening + that he postponed his sailing until the 13th. Before leaving America, he + had declined a dinner offered by the Lord Mayor of Liverpool. + </p> + <p> + Repeatedly urged to let Liverpool share in his visit, he had reconsidered + now, and on the day following the Punch dinner, on July 10th, they carried + him, with T. P. O'Connor (Tay Pay) in the Prince of Wales's special coach + to Liverpool, to be guest of honor at the reception and banquet which Lord + Mayor Japp tendered him at the Town Hall. Clemens was too tired to be + present while the courses were being served, but arrived rested and fresh + to respond to his toast. Perhaps because it was his farewell speech in + England, he made that night the most effective address of his four weeks' + visit—one of the most effective of his whole career: He began by + some light reference to the Ascot Cup and the Dublin Jewels and the State + Regalia, and other disappearances that had been laid to his charge, to + amuse his hearers, and spoke at greater length than usual, and with even + greater variety. Then laying all levity aside, he told them, like the + Queen of Sheba, all that was in his heart. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ... Home is dear to us all, and now I am departing to my own + home beyond the ocean. Oxford has conferred upon me the highest + honor that has ever fallen to my share of this life's prizes. It is + the very one I would have chosen, as outranking all and any others, + the one more precious to me than any and all others within the gift + of man or state. During my four weeks' sojourn in England I have + had another lofty honor, a continuous honor, an honor which has + flowed serenely along, without halt or obstruction, through all + these twenty-six days, a most moving and pulse-stirring honor—the + heartfelt grip of the hand, and the welcome that does not descend + from the pale-gray matter of the brain, but rushes up with the red + blood from the heart. It makes me proud and sometimes it makes me + humble, too. Many and many a year ago I gathered an incident from + Dana's Two Years Before the Mast. It was like this: There was a + presumptuous little self-important skipper in a coasting sloop + engaged in the dried-apple and kitchen-furniture trade, and he was + always hailing every ship that came in sight. He did it just to + hear himself talk and to air his small grandeur. One day a majestic + Indiaman came plowing by with course on course of canvas towering + into the sky, her decks and yards swarming with sailors, her hull + burdened to the Plimsoll line with a rich freightage of precious + spices, lading the breezes with gracious and mysterious odors of the + Orient. It was a noble spectacle, a sublime spectacle! Of course + the little skipper popped into the shrouds and squeaked out a hail, + “Ship ahoy! What ship is that? And whence and whither?” In a deep + and thunderous bass the answer came back through the speaking- + trumpet, “The Begum, of Bengal—142 days out from Canton—homeward + bound! What ship is that?” Well, it just crushed that poor little + creature's vanity flat, and he squeaked back most humbly, “Only the + Mary Ann, fourteen hours out from Boston, bound for Kittery Point + —with nothing to speak of!” Oh, what an eloquent word that “only,” + to express the depths of his humbleness! That is just my case. + During just one hour in the twenty-four—not more—I pause and + reflect in the stillness of the night with the echoes of your + English welcome still lingering in my ears, and then I am humble. + Then I am properly meek, and for that little while I am only the + Mary Ann, fourteen hours out, cargoed with vegetables and tinware; + but during all the other twenty-three hours my vain self-complacency + rides high on the white crests of your approval, and then I am a + stately Indiaman, plowing the great seas under a cloud of canvas and + laden with the kindest words that have ever been vouchsafed to any + wandering alien in this world, I think; then my twenty-six fortunate + days on this old mother soil seem to be multiplied by six, and I am + the Begum, of Bengal, 142 days out from Canton—homeward bound! +</pre> + <p> + He returned to London, and with one of his young acquaintances, an + American—he called her Francesca—paid many calls. It took the + dreariness out of that social function to perform it in that way. With a + list of the calls they were to make they drove forth each day to cancel + the social debt. They paid calls in every walk of life. His young + companion was privileged to see the inside of London homes of almost every + class, for he showed no partiality; he went to the homes of the poor and + the rich alike. One day they visited the home of an old bookkeeper whom he + had known in 1872 as a clerk in a large establishment, earning a salary of + perhaps a pound a week, who now had risen mightily, for he had become head + bookkeeper in that establishment on a salary of six pounds a week, and + thought it great prosperity and fortune for his old age. + </p> + <p> + He sailed on July 13th for home, besought to the last moment by a crowd of + autograph-seekers and reporters and photographers, and a multitude who + only wished to see him and to shout and wave good-by. He was sailing away + from them for the last time. They hoped he would make a speech, but that + would not have been possible. To the reporters he gave a farewell message: + “It has been the most enjoyable holiday I have ever had, and I am + sorry the end of it has come. I have met a hundred, old friends, and I + have made a hundred new ones. It is a good kind of riches to have; there + is none better, I think.” And the London Tribune declared that + “the ship that bore him away had difficulty in getting clear, so + thickly was the water strewn with the bay-leaves of his triumph. For Mark + Twain has triumphed, and in his all-too-brief stay of a month has done + more for the cause of the world's peace than will be accomplished by the + Hague Conference. He has made the world laugh again.” + </p> + <p> + His ship was the Minnetonka, and there were some little folks aboard to be + adopted as grandchildren. On July 5th, in a fog, the Minnetonka collided + with the bark Sterling, and narrowly escaped sinking her. On the whole, + however, the homeward way was clear, and the vessel reached New York + nearly a day in advance of their schedule. Some ceremonies of welcome had + been prepared for him; but they were upset by the early arrival, so that + when he descended the gang-plank to his native soil only a few who had + received special information were there to greet him. But perhaps he did + not notice it. He seldom took account of the absence of such things. By + early afternoon, however, the papers rang with the announcement that Mark + Twain was home again. + </p> + <p> + It is a sorrow to me that I was not at the dock to welcome him. I had been + visiting in Elmira, and timed my return for the evening of the a 2d, to be + on hand the following morning, when the ship was due. When I saw the + announcement that he had already arrived I called a greeting over the + telephone, and was told to come down and play billiards. I confess I went + with a certain degree of awe, for one could not but be overwhelmed with + the echoes of the great splendor he had so recently achieved, and I + prepared to sit a good way off in silence, and hear something of the tale + of this returning conqueror; but when I arrived he was already in the + billiard-room knocking the balls about—his coat off, for it was a + hot night. As I entered he said: + </p> + <p> + “Get your cue. I have been inventing a new game.” And I think + there were scarcely ten words exchanged before we were at it. The pageant + was over; the curtain was rung down. Business was resumed at the old + stand. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0270" id="link2H_4_0270"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLX. MATTERS PSYCHIC AND OTHERWISE + </h2> + <p> + He returned to Tuxedo and took up his dictations, and mingled freely with + the social life; but the contrast between his recent London experience and + his semi-retirement must have been very great. When I visited him now and + then, he seemed to me lonely—not especially for companionship, but + rather for the life that lay behind him—the great career which in a + sense now had been completed since he had touched its highest point. There + was no billiard-table at Tuxedo, and he spoke expectantly of getting back + to town and the games there, also of the new home which was then building + in Redding, and which would have a billiard-room where we could assemble + daily—my own habitation being not far away. Various diversions were + planned for Redding; among them was discussed a possible school of + philosophy, such as Hawthorne and Emerson and Alcott had established at + Concord. + </p> + <p> + He spoke quite freely of his English experiences, but usually of the more + amusing phases. He almost never referred to the honors that had been paid + to him, yet he must have thought of them sometimes, and cherished them, + for it had been the greatest national tribute ever paid to a private + citizen; he must have known that in his heart. He spoke amusingly of his + visit to Marie Corelli, in Stratford, and of the Holy Grail incident, + ending the latter by questioning—in words at least—all psychic + manifestations. I said to him: + </p> + <p> + “But remember your own dream, Mr. Clemens, which presaged the death + of your brother.” + </p> + <p> + He answered: “I ask nobody to believe that it ever happened. To me + it is true; but it has no logical right to be true, and I do not expect + belief in it.” Which I thought a peculiar point of view, but on the + whole characteristic. + </p> + <p> + He was invited to be a special guest at the Jamestown Exposition on Fulton + Day, in September, and Mr. Rogers lent him his yacht in which to make the + trip. It was a break in the summer's monotonies, and the Jamestown honors + must have reminded him of those in London. When he entered the auditorium + where the services were to be held there was a demonstration which lasted + more than five minutes. Every person in the hall rose and cheered, waving + handkerchiefs and umbrellas. He made them a brief, amusing talk on Fulton + and other matters, then introduced Admiral Harrington, who delivered a + masterly address and was followed by Martin W. Littleton, the real orator + of the day. Littleton acquitted himself so notably that Mark Twain + conceived for him a deep admiration, and the two men quickly became + friends. They saw each other often during the remainder of the Jamestown + stay, and Clemens, learning that Littleton lived just across Ninth Street + from him in New York, invited him to come over when he had an evening to + spare and join the billiard games. + </p> + <p> + So it happened, somewhat later, when every one was back in town, Mr. and + Mrs. Littleton frequently came over for billiards, and the games became + three-handed with an audience—very pleasant games played in that + way. Clemens sometimes set himself up as umpire, and became critic and + gave advice, while Littleton and I played. He had a favorite shot that he + frequently used himself and was always wanting us to try, which was to + drive the ball to the cushion at the beginning of the shot. + </p> + <p> + He played it with a good deal of success, and achieved unexpected results + with it. He was even inspired to write a poem on the subject. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “CUSHION FIRST” + + When all your days are dark with doubt, + And dying hope is at its worst; + When all life's balls are scattered wide, + With not a shot in sight, to left or right, + Don't give it up; + Advance your cue and shut your eyes, + And take the cushion first. +</pre> + <p> + The Harry Thaw trial was in progress just then, and Littleton was Thaw's + chief attorney. It was most interesting to hear from him direct the day's + proceedings and his views of the situation and of Thaw. + </p> + <p> + Littleton and billiards recall a curious thing which happened one + afternoon. I had been absent the evening before, and Littleton had been + over. It was after luncheon now, and Clemens and I began preparing for the + customary games. We were playing then a game with four balls, two white + and two red. I began by placing the red balls on the table, and then went + around looking in the pockets for the two white cue-balls. When I had made + the round of the table I had found but one white ball. I thought I must + have overlooked the other, and made the round again. Then I said: + </p> + <p> + “There is one white ball missing.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens, to satisfy himself, also made the round of the pockets, and said: + </p> + <p> + “It was here last night.” He felt in the pockets of the little + white-silk coat which he usually wore, thinking that he might + unconsciously have placed it there at the end of the last game, but his + coat pockets were empty. + </p> + <p> + He said: “I'll bet Littleton carried that ball home with him.” + </p> + <p> + Then I suggested that near the end of the game it might have jumped off + the table, and I looked carefully under the furniture and in the various + corners, but without success. There was another set of balls, and out of + it I selected a white one for our play, and the game began. It went along + in the usual way, the balls constantly falling into the pockets, and as + constantly being replaced on the table. This had continued for perhaps + half an hour, there being no pocket that had not been frequently occupied + and emptied during that time; but then it happened that Clemens reached + into the middle pocket, and taking out a white ball laid it in place, + whereupon we made the discovery that three white balls lay upon the table. + The one just taken from the pocket was the missing ball. We looked at each + other, both at first too astonished to say anything at all. No one had + been in the room since we began to play, and at no time during the play + had there been more than two white balls in evidence, though the pockets + had been emptied at the end of each shot. The pocket from which the + missing ball had been taken had been filled and emptied again and again. + Then Clemens said: + </p> + <p> + “We must be dreaming.” + </p> + <p> + We stopped the game for a while to discuss it, but we could devise no + material explanation. I suggested the kobold—that mischievous + invisible which is supposed to play pranks by carrying off such things as + pencils, letters, and the like, and suddenly restoring them almost before + one's eyes. Clemens, who, in spite of his material logic, was always a + mystic at heart, said: + </p> + <p> + “But that, so far as I know, has never happened to more than one + person at a time, and has been explained by a sort of temporary mental + blindness. This thing has happened to two of us, and there can be no + question as to the positive absence of the object.” + </p> + <p> + “How about dematerialization?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if one of us were a medium that might be considered an + explanation.” + </p> + <p> + He went on to recall that Sir Alfred Russel Wallace had written of such + things, and cited instances which Wallace had recorded. In the end he + said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, it happened, that's all we can say, and nobody can ever + convince me that it didn't.” + </p> + <p> + We went on playing, and the ball remained solid and substantial ever + after, so far as I know. + </p> + <p> + I am reminded of two more or less related incidents of this period. + Clemens was, one morning, dictating something about his Christian Union + article concerning Mrs. Clemens's government of children, published in + 1885. I had discovered no copy of it among the materials, and he was + wishing very much that he could see one. Somewhat later, as he was walking + down Fifth Avenue, the thought of this article and his desire for it + suddenly entered his mind. Reaching the corner of Forty-second Street, he + stopped a moment to let a jam of vehicles pass. As he did so a stranger + crossed the street, noticed him, and came dodging his way through the + blockade and thrust some clippings into his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Clemens,” he said, “you don't know me, but here is + something you may wish to have. I have been saving them for more than + twenty years, and this morning it occurred to me to send them to you. I + was going to mail them from my office, but now I will give them to you,” + and with a word or two he disappeared. The clippings were from the + Christian Union of 1885, and were the much-desired article. Clemens + regarded it as a remarkable case of mental telegraphy. + </p> + <p> + “Or, if it wasn't that,” he said, “it was a most + remarkable coincidence.” + </p> + <p> + The other circumstance has been thought amusing. I had gone to Redding for + a few days, and while there, one afternoon about five o'clock, fell over a + coal-scuttle and scarified myself a good deal between the ankle and the + knee. I mention the hour because it seems important. Next morning I + received a note, prompted by Mr. Clemens, in which he said: + </p> + <p> + Tell Paine I am sorry he fell and skinned his shin at five o'clock + yesterday afternoon. + </p> + <p> + I was naturally astonished, and immediately wrote: + </p> + <p> + I did fall and skin my shin at five o'clock yesterday afternoon, but how + did you find it out? + </p> + <p> + I followed the letter in person next day, and learned that at the same + hour on the same afternoon Clemens himself had fallen up the front steps + and, as he said, peeled off from his “starboard shin a ribbon of + skin three inches long.” The disaster was still uppermost in his + mind at the time of writing, and the suggestion of my own mishap had + flashed out for no particular reason. + </p> + <p> + Clemens was always having his fortune told, in one way or another, being + superstitious, as he readily confessed, though at times professing little + faith in these prognostics. Once when a clairvoyant, of whom he had never + even heard, and whom he had reason to believe was ignorant of his family + history, told him more about it than he knew himself, besides reading a + list of names from a piece of paper which Clemens had concealed in his + vest pocket he came home deeply impressed. The clairvoyant added that he + would probably live to a great age and die in a foreign land—a + prophecy which did not comfort him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0271" id="link2H_4_0271"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLXI. MINOR EVENTS AND DIVERSIONS + </h2> + <p> + Mark Twain was deeply interested during the autumn of 1907 in the + Children's Theater of the Jewish Educational Alliance, on the lower East + Side—a most worthy institution which ought to have survived. A Miss + Alice M. Herts, who developed and directed it, gave her strength and + health to build up an institution through which the interest of the + children could be diverted from less fortunate amusements. She had + interested a great body of Jewish children in the plays of Shakespeare, + and of more modern dramatists, and these they had performed from time to + time with great success. The admission fee to the performance was ten + cents, and the theater was always crowded with other children—certainly + a better diversion for them than the amusements of the street, though of + course, as a business enterprise, the theater could not pay. It required + patrons. Miss Herts obtained permission to play “The Prince and the + Pauper,” and Mark Twain agreed to become a sort of chief patron in + using his influence to bring together an audience who might be willing to + assist financially in this worthy work. + </p> + <p> + “The Prince and the Pauper” evening turned out a distinguished + affair. On the night of November 19, 1907, the hall of the Educational + Alliance was crowded with such an audience as perhaps never before + assembled on the East Side; the finance and the fashion of New York were + there. It was a gala night for the little East Side performers. Behind the + curtain they whispered to each other that they were to play before queens. + The performance they gave was an astonishing one. So fully did they enter + into the spirit of Tom Canty's rise to royalty that they seemed absolutely + to forget that they were lowly-born children of the Ghetto. They had + become little princesses and lords and maids-in-waiting, and they moved + through their pretty tinsel parts as if all their ornaments were gems and + their raiment cloth of gold. There was no hesitation, no awkwardness of + speech or gesture, and they rose really to sublime heights in the barn + scene where the little Prince is in the hands of the mob. Never in the + history of the stage has there been assembled a mob more wonderful than + that. These children knew mobs! A mob to them was a daily sight, and their + reproduction of it was a thing to startle you with its realism. Never was + it absurd; never was there a single note of artificiality in it. It was + Hogarthian in its bigness. + </p> + <p> + Both Mark Twain and Miss Herts made brief addresses, and the audience + shouted approval of their words. It seems a pity that such a project as + that must fail, and I do not know why it happened. Wealthy men and women + manifested an interest; but there was some hitch somewhere, and the + Children's Theater exists to-day only as history.—[In a letter to a + Mrs. Amelia Dunne Hookway, who had conducted some children's plays at the + Howland School, Chicago, Mark Twain once wrote: “If I were going to + begin life over again I would have a children's theater and watch it, and + work for it, and see it grow and blossom and bear its rich moral and + intellectual fruitage; and I should get more pleasure and a saner and + healthier profit out of my vocation than I should ever be able to get out + of any other, constituted as I am. Yes, you are easily the most fortunate + of women, I think.”] + </p> + <p> + It was at a dinner at The Players—a small, private dinner given by + Mr. George C. Riggs-that I saw Edward L. Burlingame and Mark Twain for the + only time together. They had often met during the forty-two years that had + passed since their long-ago Sandwich Island friendship; but only + incidentally, for Mr. Burlingame cared not much for great public + occasions, and as editor of Scribner's Magazine he had been somewhat out + of the line of Mark Twain's literary doings. + </p> + <p> + Howells was there, and Gen. Stewart L. Woodford, and David Bispham, John + Finley, Evan Shipman, Nicholas Biddle, and David Munro. Clemens told that + night, for the first time, the story of General Miles and the three-dollar + dog, inventing it, I believe, as he went along, though for the moment it + certainly did sound like history. He told it often after that, and it has + been included in his book of speeches. + </p> + <p> + Later, in the cab, he said: + </p> + <p> + “That was a mighty good dinner. Riggs knows how to do that sort of + thing. I enjoyed it ever so much. Now we'll go home and play billiards.” + </p> + <p> + We began about eleven o'clock, and played until after midnight. I happened + to be too strong for him, and he swore amazingly. He vowed that it was not + a gentleman's game at all, that Riggs's wine had demoralized the play. But + at the end, when we were putting up the cues, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, those were good games. There is nothing like billiards after + all.” + </p> + <p> + We did not play billiards on his birthday that year. He went to the + theater in the afternoon; and it happened that, with Jesse Lynch Williams, + I attended the same performance—the “Toy-Maker of Nuremberg”—written + by Austin Strong. It proved to be a charming play, and I could see that + Clemens was enjoying it. He sat in a box next to the stage, and the actors + clearly were doing their very prettiest for his benefit. + </p> + <p> + When later I mentioned having seen him at the play, he spoke freely of his + pleasure in it. + </p> + <p> + “It is a fine, delicate piece of work,” he said. “I wish + I could do such things as that.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you are too literary for play-writing.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, no doubt. There was never any question with the managers about + my plays. They always said they wouldn't act. Howells has come pretty near + to something once or twice. I judge the trouble is that the literary man + is thinking of the style and quality of the thing, while the playwright + thinks only of how it will play. One is thinking of how it will sound, the + other of how it will look.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” I said, “the literary man should have a + collaborator with a genius for stage mechanism. John Luther Long's + exquisite plays would hardly have been successful without David Belasco to + stage them. Belasco cannot write a play himself, but in the matter of + acting construction his genius is supreme.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, so it is; it was Belasco who made it possible to play 'The + Prince and the Pauper'—a collection of literary garbage before he + got hold of it.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens attended few public functions now. He was beset with invitations, + but he declined most of them. He told the dog story one night to the + Pleiades Club, assembled at the Brevoort; but that was only a step away, + and we went in after the dining was ended and came away before the + exercises were concluded. + </p> + <p> + He also spoke at a banquet given to Andrew Carnegie—Saint Andrew, as + he called him—by the Engineers Club, and had his usual fun at the + chief guest's expense. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have been chief guest at a good many banquets myself, and I know + what brother Andrew is feeling like now. He has been receiving + compliments and nothing but compliments, but he knows that there is + another side to him that needs censure. + + I am going to vary the complimentary monotony. While we have all + been listening to the complimentary talk Mr. Carnegie's face has + scintillated with fictitious innocence. You'd think he never + committed a crime in his life. But he has. + + Look at his pestiferous simplified spelling. Imagine the calamity + on two sides of the ocean when he foisted his simplified spelling on + the whole human race. We've got it all now so that nobody could + spell.... + + If Mr. Carnegie had left spelling alone we wouldn't have had any + spots on the sun, or any San Francisco quake, or any business + depression. + + There, I trust he feels better now and that he has enjoyed my abuse + more than he did his compliments. And now that I think I have him + smoothed down and feeling comfortable I just want to say one thing + more—that his simplified spelling is all right enough, but, like + chastity, you can carry it too far. +</pre> + <p> + As he was about to go, Carnegie called his attention to the beautiful + souvenir bronze and gold-plated goblets that stood at each guest's plate. + Carnegie said: + </p> + <p> + “The club had those especially made at Tiffany's for this occasion. + They cost ten dollars apiece.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens sand: “Is that so? Well, I only meant to take my own; but if + that's the case I'll load my cab with them.” + </p> + <p> + We made an attempt to reform on the matter of billiards. The continued + strain of late hours was doing neither of us any particular good. More + than once I journeyed into the country on one errand and another, mainly + for rest; but a card saying that he was lonely and upset, for lack of his + evening games, quickly brought me back again. It was my wish only to serve + him; it was a privilege and an honor to give him happiness. + </p> + <p> + Billiards, however, was not his only recreation just then. He walked out a + good deal, and especially of a pleasant Sunday morning he liked the stroll + up Fifth Avenue. Sometimes we went as high as Carnegie's, on Ninety-second + Street, and rode home on top of the electric stage—always one of + Mark Twain's favorite diversions. + </p> + <p> + From that high seat he liked to look down on the panorama of the streets, + and in that free, open air he could smoke without interference. Oftener, + however, we turned at Fifty-ninth Street, walking both ways. + </p> + <p> + When it was pleasant we sometimes sat on a bench in Central Park; and once + he must have left a handkerchief there, for a few days later one of his + handkerchiefs came to him accompanied by a note. Its finder, a Mr. + Lockwood, received a reward, for Mark Twain wrote him: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There is more rejoicing in this house over that one handkerchief + that was lost and is found again than over the ninety and nine that + never went to the wash at all. Heaven will reward you, I know it + will. +</pre> + <p> + On Sunday mornings the return walk would be timed for about the hour that + the churches would be dismissed. On the first Sunday morning we had + started a little early, and I thoughtlessly suggested, when we reached + Fifty-ninth Street, that if we returned at once we would avoid the throng. + He said, quietly: + </p> + <p> + “I like the throng.” + </p> + <p> + So we rested in the Plaza Hotel until the appointed hour. Men and women + noticed him, and came over to shake his hand. The gigantic man in uniform; + in charge of the carriages at the door, came in for a word. He had opened + carriages for Mr. Clemens at the Twenty-third Street station, and now + wanted to claim that honor. I think he received the most cordial welcome + of any one who came. I am sure he did. It was Mark Twain's way to warm to + the man of the lower social rank. He was never too busy, never too + preoccupied, to grasp the hand of such a man; to listen to his story, and + to say just the words that would make that man happy remembering them. + </p> + <p> + We left the Plaza Hotel and presently were amid the throng of outpouring + congregations. Of course he was the object on which every passing eye + turned; the presence to which every hat was lifted. I realized that this + open and eagerly paid homage of the multitude was still dear to him, not + in any small and petty way, but as the tribute of a nation, the expression + of that affection which in his London and Liverpool speeches he had + declared to be the last and final and most precious reward that any man + can win, whether by character or achievement. It was his final harvest, + and he had the courage to claim it—the aftermath of all his years of + honorable labor and noble living. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0272" id="link2H_4_0272"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLXII. FROM MARK TWAIN's MAIL. + </h2> + <p> + If the reader has any curiosity as to some of the less usual letters which + a man of wide public note may inspire, perhaps he will find a certain + interest in a few selected from the thousands which yearly came to Mark + Twain. + </p> + <p> + For one thing, he was constantly receiving prescriptions and remedies + whenever the papers reported one of his bronchial or rheumatic attacks. It + is hardly necessary to quote examples of these, but only a form of his + occasional reply, which was likely to be in this wise: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR SIR [or MADAM],—I try every remedy sent to me. I am now on + No. 87. Yours is 2,653. I am looking forward to its beneficial + results. +</pre> + <p> + Of course a large number of the nostrums and palliatives offered were + preparations made by the wildest and longest-haired medical cranks. One of + these sent an advertisement of a certain Elixir of Life, which was + guaranteed to cure everything—to “wash and cleanse the human + molecules, and so restore youth and preserve life everlasting.” + </p> + <p> + Anonymous letters are not usually popular or to be encouraged, but Mark + Twain had an especial weakness for compliments that came in that way. They + were not mercenary compliments. The writer had nothing to gain. Two such + letters follow—both written in England just at the time of his + return. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MARK TWAIN. + + DEAR SIR,—Please accept a poor widow's good-by and kindest wishes. + I have had some of your books sent to me; have enjoyed them very + much—only wish I could afford to buy some. + + I should very much like to have seen you. I have many photos of you + which I have cut from several papers which I read. I have one where + you are writing in bed, which I cut from the Daily News. Like + myself, you believe in lots of sleep and rest. I am 70 and I find I + need plenty. Please forgive the liberty I have taken in writing to + you. If I can't come to your funeral may we meet beyond the river. + + May God guard you, is the wish of a lonely old widow. + Yours sincerely, +</pre> + <p> + The other letter also tells its own story: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR, KIND MARK TWAIN,—For years I have wanted to write and thank + you for the comfort you were to me once, only I never quite knew + where you were, and besides I did not want to bother you; but to-day + I was told by some one who saw you going into the lift at the Savoy + that you looked sad and I thought it might cheer you a little tiny + bit to hear how you kept a poor lonely girl from ruining her eyes + with crying every night for long months. + + Ten years ago I had to leave home and earn my living as a governess + and Fate sent me to spend a winter with a very dull old country + family in the depths of Staffordshire. According to the genial + English custom, after my five charges had gone to bed, I took my + evening meal alone in the school-room, where “Henry Tudor had supped + the night before Bosworth,” and there I had to stay without a soul + to speak to till I went to bed. At first I used to cry every night, + but a friend sent me a copy of your Huckleberry Finn and I never + cried any more. I kept him handy under the copy-books and maps, and + when Henry Tudor commenced to stretch out his chilly hands toward me + I grabbed my dear Huck and he never once failed me; I opened him at + random and in two minutes I was in another world. That's why I am + so grateful to you and so fond of you, and I thought you might like + to know; for it is yourself that has the kind heart, as is easily + seen from the way you wrote about the poor old nigger. I am a + stenographer now and live at home, but I shall never forget how you + helped me. God bless you and spare you long to those you are dear + to. +</pre> + <p> + A letter which came to him soon after his return from England contained a + clipping which reported the good work done by Christian missionaries in + the Congo, especially among natives afflicted by the terrible sleeping + sickness. The letter itself consisted merely of a line, which said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Won't you give your friends, the missionaries, a good mark for this? +</pre> + <p> + The writer's name was signed, and Mark Twain answered: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In China the missionaries are not wanted, & so they ought to be + decent & go away. But I have not heard that in the Congo the + missionary servants of God are unwelcome to the native. + + Evidently those missionaries axe pitying, compassionate, kind. How + it would improve God to take a lesson from them! He invented & + distributed the germ of that awful disease among those helpless, + poor savages, & now He sits with His elbows on the balusters & looks + down & enjoys this wanton crime. Confidently, & between you & me + —well, never mind, I might get struck by lightning if I said it. + + Those are good and kindly men, those missionaries, but they are a + measureless satire upon their Master. +</pre> + <p> + To which the writer answered: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + O wicked Mr. Clemens! I have to ask Saint Joan of Arc to pray for + you; then one of these days, when we all stand before the Golden + Gates and we no longer “see through a glass darkly and know only in + part,” there will be a struggle at the heavenly portals between Joan + of Arc and St. Peter, but your blessed Joan will conquer and she'll + lead Mr. Clemens through the gates of pearl and apologize and plead + for him. +</pre> + <p> + Of the letters that irritated him, perhaps the following is as fair a + sample as any, and it has additional interest in its sequel. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR SIR,—I have written a book—naturally—which fact, however, + since I am not your enemy, need give you no occasion to rejoice. + Nor need you grieve, though I am sending you a copy. If I knew of + any way of compelling you to read it I would do so, but unless the + first few pages have that effect I can do nothing. Try the first + few pages. I have done a great deal more than that with your books, + so perhaps you owe me some thing—say ten pages. If after that + attempt you put it aside I shall be sorry—for you. + + I am afraid that the above looks flippant—but think of the + twitterings of the soul of him who brings in his hand an unbidden + book, written by himself. To such a one much is due in the way of + indulgence. Will you remember that? Have you forgotten early + twitterings of your own? +</pre> + <p> + In a memorandum made on this letter Mark Twain wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Another one of those peculiarly depressing letters—a letter cast in + artificially humorous form, whilst no art could make the subject + humorous—to me. +</pre> + <p> + Commenting further, he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + As I have remarked before about one thousand times the coat of arms + of the human race ought to consist of a man with an ax on his + shoulder proceeding toward a grindstone, or it ought to represent + the several members of the human race holding out the hat to one + another; for we are all beggars, each in his own way. One beggar is + too proud to beg for pennies, but will beg for an introduction into + society; another does not care for society, but he wants a + postmastership; another will inveigle a lawyer into conversation and + then sponge on him for free advice. The man who wouldn't do any of + these things will beg for the Presidency. Each admires his own + dignity and greatly guards it, but in his opinion the others haven't + any. + + Mendicancy is a matter of taste and temperament, no doubt, but no + human being is without some form of it. I know my own form, you + know yours. Let us conceal them from view and abuse the others. + There is no man so poor but what at intervals some man comes to him + with an ax to grind. By and by the ax's aspect becomes familiar to + the proprietor of the grindstone. He perceives that it is the same + old ax. If you are a governor you know that the stranger wants an + office. The first time he arrives you are deceived; he pours out + such noble praises of you and your political record that you are + moved to tears; there's a lump in your throat and you are thankful + that you have lived for this happiness. Then the stranger discloses + his ax, and you are ashamed of yourself and your race. Six + repetitions will cure you. After that you interrupt the compliments + and say, “Yes, yes, that's all right; never mind about that. What + is it you want?” + + But you and I are in the business ourselves. Every now and then we + carry our ax to somebody and ask a whet. I don't carry mine to + strangers—I draw the line there; perhaps that is your way. This is + bound to set us up on a high and holy pinnacle and make us look down + in cold rebuke on persons who carry their axes to strangers. + + I do not know how to answer that stranger's letter. I wish he had + spared me. Never mind about him—I am thinking about myself. I + wish he had spared me. The book has not arrived yet; but no matter, + I am prejudiced against it. +</pre> + <p> + It was a few days later that he added: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I wrote to that man. I fell back upon the old Overworked, polite + lie, and thanked him for his book and said I was promising myself + the pleasure of reading it. Of course that set me free; I was not + obliged to read it now at all, and, being free, my prejudice was + gone, and as soon as the book came I opened it to see what it was + like. I was not able to put it down until I had finished. It was + an embarrassing thing to have to write to that man and confess that + fact, but I had to do it. That first letter was merely a lie. Do + you think I wrote the second one to give that man pleasure? Well, I + did, but it was second-hand pleasure. I wrote it first to give + myself comfort, to make myself forget the original lie. +</pre> + <p> + Mark Twain's interest was once aroused by the following: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR SIR,—I have had more or less of your works on my shelves for + years, and believe I have practically a complete set now. This is + nothing unusual, of course, but I presume it will seem to you + unusual for any one to keep books constantly in sight which the + owner regrets ever having read. + + Every time my glance rests on the books I do regret having read + them, and do not hesitate to tell you so to your face, and care not + who may know my feelings. You, who must be kept busy attending to + your correspondence, will probably pay little or no attention to + this small fraction of it, yet my reasons, I believe, are sound and + are probably shared by more people than you are aware of. + + Probably you will not read far enough through this to see who has + signed it, but if you do, and care to know why I wish I had left + your work unread, I will tell you as briefly as possible if you will + ask me. + GEORGE B. LAUDER. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens did not answer the letter, but put it in his pocket, perhaps + intending to do so, and a few days later, in Boston, when a reporter + called, he happened to remember it. The reporter asked permission to print + the queer document, and it appeared in his Mark Twain interview next + morning. A few days later the writer of it sent a second letter, this time + explaining: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MY DEAR SIR,—I saw in to-day's paper a copy of the letter which I + wrote you October 26th. + + I have read and re-read your works until I can almost recall some of + them word for word. My familiarity with them is a constant source + of pleasure which I would not have missed, and therefore the regret + which I have expressed is more than offset by thankfulness. + + Believe me, the regret which I feel for having read your works is + entirely due to the unalterable fact that I can never again have the + pleasure of reading them for the first time. + + Your sincere admirer, + GEORGE B. LADDER. +</pre> + <p> + Mark Twain promptly replied this time: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR SIR, You fooled me completely; I didn't divine what the letter + was concealing, neither did the newspaper men, so you are a very + competent deceiver. + Truly yours, + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> + <p> + It was about the end of 1907 that the new St. Louis Harbor boat, was + completed. The editor of the St. Louis Republic reported that it has been + christened “Mark Twain,” and asked for a word of comment. + Clemens sent this line: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + May my namesake follow in my righteous footsteps, then neither of us + will need any fire insurance. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0273" id="link2H_4_0273"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLXIII. SOME LITERARY LUNCHEONS + </h2> + <p> + Howells, in his book, refers to the Human Race Luncheon Club, which + Clemens once organized for the particular purpose of damning the species + in concert. It was to consist, beside Clemens himself, of Howells, Colonel + Harvey, and Peter Dunne; but it somehow never happened that even this + small membership could be assembled while the idea was still fresh, and + therefore potent. + </p> + <p> + Out of it, however, grew a number of those private social gatherings which + Clemens so dearly loved—small luncheons and dinners given at his own + table. The first of these came along toward the end of 1907, when Howells + was planning to spend the winter in Italy. + </p> + <p> + “Howells is going away,” he said, “and I should like to + give him a stag-party. We'll enlarge the Human Race Club for the occasion.” + </p> + <p> + So Howells, Colonel Harvey, Martin Littleton, Augustus Thomas, Robert + Porter, and Paderewski were invited. Paderewski was unable to come, and + seven in all assembled. + </p> + <p> + Howells was first to arrive. + </p> + <p> + “Here comes Howells,” Clemens said. “Old Howells a + thousand years old.” + </p> + <p> + But Howells didn't look it. His face was full of good-nature and apparent + health, and he was by no means venerable, either in speech or action. + Thomas, Porter, Littleton, and Harvey drifted in. Cocktails were served + and luncheon was announced. + </p> + <p> + Claude, the butler, had prepared the table with fine artistry—its + center a mass of roses. There was to be no woman in the neighborhood—Clemens + announced this fact as a sort of warrant for general freedom of + expression. + </p> + <p> + Thomas's play, “The Witching Hour,” was then at the height of + its great acceptance, and the talk naturally began there. Thomas told + something of the difficulty which he found in being able to convince a + manager that it would succeed, and declared it to be his own favorite + work. I believe there was no dissenting opinion as to its artistic value, + or concerning its purpose and psychology, though these had been the + stumbling-blocks from a managerial point of view. + </p> + <p> + When the subject was concluded, and there had come a lull, Colonel Harvey, + who was seated at Clemens's left, said: + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Mark”—he often called him that—“Major + Leigh handed me a report of the year's sales just as I was leaving. It + shows your royalty returns this year to be very close to fifty thousand + dollars. I don't believe there is another such return from old books on + record.” + </p> + <p> + This was said in an undertone, to Clemens only, but was overheard by one + or two of those who sat nearest. Clemens was not unwilling to repeat it + for the benefit of all, and did so. Howells said: + </p> + <p> + “A statement like that arouses my basest passions. The books are no + good; it's just the advertising they get.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens said: “Yes, my contract compels the publisher to advertise. + It costs them two hundred dollars every time they leave the advertisement + out of the magazines.” + </p> + <p> + “And three hundred every time we put it in,” said Harvey. + “We often debate whether it is more profitable to put in the + advertisement or to leave it out.” + </p> + <p> + The talk switched back to plays and acting. Thomas recalled an incident of + Beerbohm Tree's performance of “Hamlet.” W. S. Gilbert, of + light-opera celebrity, was present at a performance, and when the play + ended Mrs. Tree hurried over to him and said: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Gilbert, what did you think of Mr. Tree's rendition of + Hamlet?” “Remarkable,” said Gilbert. “Funny + without being vulgar.” + </p> + <p> + It was with such idle tales and talk-play that the afternoon passed. Not + much of it all is left to me, but I remember Howells saying, “Did it + ever occur to you that the newspapers abolished hell? Well, they did—it + was never done by the church. There was a consensus of newspaper opinion + that the old hell with its lake of fire and brimstone was an antiquated + institution; in fact a dead letter.” And again, “I was coming + down Broadway last night, and I stopped to look at one of the + street-venders selling those little toy fighting roosters. It was a bleak, + desolate evening; nobody was buying anything, and as he pulled the string + and kept those little roosters dancing and fighting his remarks grew more + and more cheerless and sardonic. + </p> + <p> + “'Japanese game chickens,' he said; 'pretty toys, amuse the children + with their antics. Child of three can operate it. Take them home for + Christmas. Chicken-fight at your own fireside.' I tried to catch his eye + to show him that I understood his desolation and sorrow, but it was no + use. He went on dancing his toy chickens, and saying, over and over, + 'Chicken-fight at your own fireside.'” + </p> + <p> + The luncheon over, we wandered back into the drawing-room, and presently + all left but Colonel Harvey. Clemens and the Colonel went up to the + billiard-room and engaged in a game of cushion caroms, at twenty-five + cents a game. I was umpire and stakeholder, and it was a most interesting + occupation, for the series was close and a very cheerful one. It ended the + day much to Mark Twain's satisfaction, for he was oftenest winner. That + evening he said: + </p> + <p> + “We will repeat that luncheon; we ought to repeat it once a month. + Howells will be gone, but we must have the others. We cannot have a thing + like that too often.” + </p> + <p> + There was, in fact, a second stag-luncheon very soon after, at which + George Riggs was present and that rare Irish musician, Denis O'Sullivan. + It was another choice afternoon, with a mystical quality which came of the + music made by O'Sullivan on some Hindu reeds-pipes of Pan. But we shall + have more of O'Sullivan presently—all too little, for his days were + few and fleeting. + </p> + <p> + Howells could not get away just yet. Colonel Harvey, who, like James + Osgood, would not fail to find excuse for entertainment, chartered two + drawing-room cars, and with Mrs. Harvey took a party of fifty-five or + sixty congenial men and women to Lakewood for a good-by luncheon to + Howells. It was a day borrowed from June, warm and beautiful. + </p> + <p> + The trip down was a sort of reception. Most of the guests were acquainted, + but many of them did not often meet. There was constant visiting back and + forth the full length of the two coaches. Denis O'Sullivan was among the + guests. He looked in the bloom of health, and he had his pipes and played + his mystic airs; then he brought out the tin-whistle of Ireland, and blew + such rollicking melodies as capering fairies invented a long time ago. + This was on the train going down. + </p> + <p> + There was a brief program following the light-hearted feasting—an + informal program fitting to that sunny day. It opened with some + recitations by Miss Kitty Cheatham; then Colonel Harvey introduced + Howells, with mention of his coming journey. As a rule, Howells does not + enjoy speaking. He is willing to read an address on occasion, but he has + owned that the prospect of talking without his notes terrifies him. This + time, however, there was no reluctance, though he had prepared no speech. + He was among friends. He looked even happy when he got on his feet, and he + spoke like a happy man. He talked about Mark Twain. It was all delicate, + delicious chaffing which showed Howells at his very best—all too + short for his listeners. + </p> + <p> + Clemens, replying, returned the chaff, and rambled amusingly among his + fancies, closing with a few beautiful words of “Godspeed and safe + return” to his old comrade and friend. + </p> + <p> + Then once more came Denis and his pipes. No one will ever forget his part + of the program. The little samples we had heard on the train were expanded + and multiplied and elaborated in a way that fairly swept his listeners out + of themselves into that land where perhaps Denis himself wanders playing + now; for a month later, strong and lusty and beautiful as he seemed that + day, he suddenly vanished from among us and his reeds were silent. It + never occurred to us then that Denis could die; and as he finished each + melody and song there was a shout for a repetition, and I think we could + have sat there and let the days and years slip away unheeded, for time is + banished by music like that, and one wonders if it might not even divert + death. + </p> + <p> + It was dark when we crossed the river homeward; the myriad lights from + heaven-climbing windows made an enchanted city in the sky. The evening, + like the day, was warm, and some of the party left the ferry-cabin to lean + over and watch the magic spectacle, the like of which is not to be found + elsewhere on the earth. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0274" id="link2H_4_0274"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLXIV. “CAPTAIN STORMFIELD” IN PRINT + </h2> + <p> + During the forty years or so that had elapsed since the publication of the + “Gates Ajar” and the perpetration of Mark Twain's intended + burlesque, built on Captain Ned Wakeman's dream, the Christian religion in + its more orthodox aspects had undergone some large modifications. It was + no longer regarded as dangerous to speak lightly of hell, or even to + suggest that the golden streets and jeweled architecture of the sky might + be regarded as symbols of hope rather than exhibits of actual bullion and + lapidary construction. Clemens re-read his extravaganza, Captain + Stormfields Visit to Heaven, gave it a modernizing touch here and there, + and handed it to his publishers, who must have agreed that it was no + longer dangerous, for it was promptly accepted and appeared in the + December and January numbers (1907-8) of Harper's Magazine, and was also + issued as a small book. If there were any readers who still found it + blasphemous, or even irreverent, they did not say so; the letters that + came—and they were a good many—expressed enjoyment and + approval, also (some of them) a good deal of satisfaction that Mark Twain + “had returned to his earlier form.” + </p> + <p> + The publication of this story recalled to Clemens's mind another heresy + somewhat similar which he had written during the winter of 1891 and 1892 + in Berlin. This was a dream of his own, in which he had set out on a train + with the evangelist Sam Jones and the Archbishop of Canterbury for the + other world. He had noticed that his ticket was to a different destination + than the Archbishop's, and so, when the prelate nodded and finally went to + sleep, he changed the tickets in their hats with disturbing results. + Clemens thought a good deal of this fancy when he wrote it, and when Mrs. + Clemens had refused to allow it to be printed he had laboriously + translated it into German, with some idea of publishing it + surreptitiously; but his conscience had been too much for him. He had + confessed, and even the German version had been suppressed. + </p> + <p> + Clemens often allowed his fancy to play with the idea of the orthodox + heaven, its curiosities of architecture, and its employments of continuous + prayer, psalm-singing, and harpistry. + </p> + <p> + “What a childish notion it was,” he said, “and how + curious that only a little while ago human beings were so willing to + accept such fragile evidences about a place of so much importance. If we + should find somewhere to-day an ancient book containing an account of a + beautiful and blooming tropical Paradise secreted in the center of eternal + icebergs—an account written by men who did not even claim to have + seen it themselves—no geographical society on earth would take any + stock in that book, yet that account would be quite as authentic as any we + have of heaven. If God has such a place prepared for us, and really wanted + us to know it, He could have found some better way than a book so liable + to alterations and misinterpretation. God has had no trouble to prove to + man the laws of the constellations and the construction of the world, and + such things as that, none of which agree with His so-called book. As to a + hereafter, we have not the slightest evidence that there is any—no + evidence that appeals to logic and reason. I have never seen what to me + seemed an atom of proof that there is a future life.” + </p> + <p> + Then, after a long pause, he added: + </p> + <p> + “And yet—I am strongly inclined to expect one.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0275" id="link2H_4_0275"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLXV. LOTOS CLUB HONORS + </h2> + <p> + It was on January 11, 1908, that Mark Twain was given his last great + banquet by the Lotos Club. The club was about to move again, into splendid + new quarters, and it wished to entertain him once more in its old rooms. + </p> + <p> + He wore white, and amid the throng of black-clad men was like a white moth + among a horde of beetles. The room fairly swarmed with them, and they + seemed likely to overwhelm him. + </p> + <p> + President Lawrence was toast-master of the evening, and he ended his + customary address by introducing Robert Porter, who had been Mark Twain's + host at Oxford. Porter told something of the great Oxford week, and ended + by introducing Mark Twain. It had been expected that Clemens would tell of + his London experiences. Instead of doing this, he said he had started a + new kind of collection, a collection of compliments. He had picked up a + number of valuable ones abroad and some at home. He read selections from + them, and kept the company going with cheers and merriment until just + before the close of his speech. Then he repeated, in his most impressive + manner, that stately conclusion of his Liverpool speech, and the room + became still and the eyes of his hearers grew dim. It may have been even + more moving than when originally given, for now the closing words, “homeward + bound,” had only the deeper meaning. + </p> + <p> + Dr. John MacArthur followed with a speech that was as good a sermon as any + he ever delivered, and closed it by saying: + </p> + <p> + “I do not want men to prepare for heaven, but to prepare to remain + on earth, and it is such men as Mark Twain who make other men not fit to + die, but fit to live.” + </p> + <p> + Andrew Carnegie also spoke, and Colonel Harvey, and as the speaking ended + Robert Porter stepped up behind Clemens and threw over his shoulders the + scarlet Oxford robe which had been surreptitiously brought, and placed the + mortar-board cap upon his head, while the diners vociferated their + approval. Clemens was quite calm. + </p> + <p> + “I like this,” he said, when the noise had subsided. “I + like its splendid color. I would dress that way all the time, if I dared.” + </p> + <p> + In the cab going home I mentioned the success of his speech, how well it + had been received. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said; “but then I have the advantage of + knowing now that I am likely to be favorably received, whatever I say. I + know that my audiences are warm and responseful. It is an immense + advantage to feel that. There are cold places in almost every speech, and + if your audience notices them and becomes cool, you get a chill yourself + in those zones, and it is hard to warm up again. Perhaps there haven't + been so many lately; but I have been acquainted with them more than once.” + And then I could not help remembering that deadly Whittier birthday speech + of more than thirty years before—that bleak, arctic experience from + beginning to end. + </p> + <p> + “We have just time for four games,” he said, as we reached the + billiard-room; but there was no sign of stopping when the four games were + over. We were winning alternately, and neither noted the time. I was + leaving by an early train, and was willing to play all night. The + milk-wagons were rattling outside when he said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, perhaps we'd better quit now. It seems pretty early, though.” + I looked at my watch. It was quarter to four, and we said good night. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0276" id="link2H_4_0276"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLXVI. A WINTER IN BERMUDA + </h2> + <p> + Edmund Clarence Stedman died suddenly at his desk, January 18, 1908, and + Clemens, in response to telegrams, sent this message: + </p> + <p> + I do not wish to talk about it. He was a valued friend from days that date + back thirty-five years. His loss stuns me and unfits me to speak. + </p> + <p> + He recalled the New England dinners which he used to attend, and where he + had often met Stedman. + </p> + <p> + “Those were great affairs,” he said. “They began early, + and they ended early. I used to go down from Hartford with the feeling + that it wasn't an all-night supper, and that it was going to be an + enjoyable time. Choate and Depew and Stedman were in their prime then—we + were all young men together. Their speeches were always worth listening + to. Stedman was a prominent figure there. There don't seem to be any such + men now—or any such occasions.” + </p> + <p> + Stedman was one of the last of the old literary group. Aldrich had died + the year before. Howells and Clemens were the lingering “last + leaves.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens gave some further luncheon entertainments to his friends, and + added the feature of “doe” luncheons—pretty affairs + where, with Clara Clemens as hostess, were entertained a group of + brilliant women, such as Mrs. Kate Douglas Riggs, Geraldine Farrax, Mrs. + Robert Collier, Mrs. Frank Doubleday, and others. I cannot report those + luncheons, for I was not present, and the drift of the proceedings came to + me later in too fragmentary a form to be used as history; but I gathered + from Clemens himself that he had done all of the talking, and I think they + must have been very pleasant afternoons. Among the acknowledgments that + followed one of these affairs is this characteristic word-play from Mrs. + Riggs: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + N. B.—A lady who is invited to and attends a doe luncheon is, of + course, a doe. The question is, if she attends two doe luncheons in + succession is she a doe-doe? If so is she extinct and can never + attend a third? +</pre> + <p> + Luncheons and billiards, however, failed to give sufficient brightness to + the dull winter days, or to insure him against an impending bronchial + attack, and toward the end of January he sailed away to Bermuda, where + skies were bluer and roadsides gay with bloom. His sojourn was brief this + time, but long enough to cure him, he said, and he came back full of + happiness. He had been driving about over the island with a newly adopted + granddaughter, little Margaret Blackmer, whom he had met one morning in + the hotel dining-room. A part of his dictated story will convey here this + pretty experience. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + My first day in Bermuda paid a dividend—in fact a double dividend: + it broke the back of my cold and it added a jewel to my collection. + As I entered the breakfast-room the first object I saw in that + spacious and far-reaching place was a little girl seated solitary at + a table for two. I bent down over her and patted her cheek and + said: + + “I don't seem to remember your name; what is it?” + + By the sparkle in her brown eyes it amused her. She said: + + “Why, you've never known it, Mr. Clemens, because you've never seen + me before.” + + “Why, that is true, now that I come to think; it certainly is true, + and it must be one of the reasons why I have forgotten your name. + But I remember it now perfectly—it's Mary.” + + She was amused again; amused beyond smiling; amused to a chuckle, + and she said: + + “Oh no, it isn't; it's Margaret.” + + I feigned to be ashamed of my mistake and said: + + “Ah, well, I couldn't have made that mistake a few years ago; but I + am old, and one of age's earliest infirmities is a damaged memory; + but I am clearer now—clearer-headed—it all comes back to me just + as if it were yesterday. It's Margaret Holcomb.” + + She was surprised into a laugh this time, the rippling laugh that a + happy brook makes when it breaks out of the shade into the sunshine, + and she said: + + “Oh, you are wrong again; you don't get anything right. It isn't + Holcomb, it's Blackmer.” + + I was ashamed again, and confessed it; then: + + “How old are you, dear?” + + “Twelve; New-Year's. Twelve and a month.” + + We were close comrades-inseparables, in fact-for eight days. Every + day we made pedestrian excursions—called them that anyway, and + honestly they were intended for that, and that is what they would + have been but for the persistent intrusion of a gray and grave and + rough-coated donkey by the name of Maud. Maud was four feet long; + she was mounted on four slender little stilts, and had ears that + doubled her altitude when she stood them up straight. Her tender + was a little bit of a cart with seat room for two in it, and you + could fall out of it without knowing it, it was so close to the + ground. This battery was in command of a nice, grave, dignified, + gentlefaced little black boy whose age was about twelve, and whose + name, for some reason or other, was Reginald. Reginald and Maud—I + shall not easily forget those names, nor the combination they stood + for. The trips going and coming were five or six miles, and it + generally took us three hours to make it. This was because Maud set + the pace. Whenever she detected an ascending grade she respected + it; she stopped and said with her ears: + + “This is getting unsatisfactory. We will camp here.” + + The whole idea of these excursions was that Margaret and I should + employ them for the gathering of strength, by walking, yet we were + oftener in the cart than out of it. She drove and I superintended. + In the course of the first excursions I found a beautiful little + shell on the beach at Spanish Point; its hinge was old and dry, and + the two halves came apart in my hand. I gave one of them to + Margaret and said: + + “Now dear, sometime or other in the future I shall run across you + somewhere, and it may turn out that it is not you at all, but will + be some girl that only resembles you. I shall be saying to myself + 'I know that this is a Margaret by the look of her, but I don't know + for sure whether this is my Margaret or somebody else's'; but, no + matter, I can soon find out, for I shall take my half shell out of + my pocket and say, 'I think you are my Margaret, but I am not + certain; if you are my Margaret you can produce the other half of + this shell.'” + + Next morning when I entered the breakfast-room and saw the child I + approached and scanned her searchingly all over, then said, sadly: + + “No, I am mistaken; it looks like my Margaret,—but it isn't, and I + am so sorry. I shall go away and cry now.” + + Her eyes danced triumphantly, and she cried out: + + “No, you don't have to. There!” and she fetched out the identifying + shell. + + I was beside myself with gratitude and joyful surprise, and revealed + it from every pore. The child could not have enjoyed this thrilling + little drama more if we had been playing it on the stage. Many + times afterward she played the chief part herself, pretending to be + in doubt as to my identity and challenging me to produce my half of + the shell. She was always hoping to catch me without it, but I + always defeated that game—wherefore she came to recognize at last + that I was not only old, but very smart. +</pre> + <p> + Sometimes, when they were not walking or driving, they sat on the veranda, + and he prepared history-lessons for little Margaret by making grotesque + figures on cards with numerous legs and arms and other fantastic symbols + end features to fix the length of some king's reign. For William the + Conqueror, for instance, who reigned twenty-one years, he drew a figure of + eleven legs and ten arms. It was the proper method of impressing facts + upon the mind of a child. It carried him back to those days at Elmira when + he had arranged for his own little girls the game of kings. A Miss + Wallace, a friend of Margaret's, and usually one of the pedestrian party, + has written a dainty book of those Bermudian days.—[Mark Twain and + the Happy Islands, by Elizabeth Wallace.] + </p> + <p> + Miss Wallace says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Margaret felt for him the deep affection that children have for an + older person who understands them and treats them with respect. Mr. + Clemens never talked down to her, but considered her opinions with a + sweet dignity. +</pre> + <p> + There were some pretty sequels to the shell incident. After Mark Twain had + returned to New York, and Margaret was there, she called one day with her + mother, and sent up her card. He sent back word, saying: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I seem to remember the name; but if this is really the person whom + I think it is she can identify herself by a certain shell I once + gave her, of which I have the other half. If the two halves fit, I + shall know that this is the same little Margaret that I remember.” + </pre> + <p> + The message went down, and the other half of the shell was promptly sent + up. Mark Twain had the two half-shells incised firmly in gold, and one of + these he wore on his watch-fob, and sent the other to Margaret. + </p> + <p> + He afterward corresponded with Margaret, and once wrote her: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I'm already making mistakes. When I was in New York, six weeks ago, + I was on a corner of Fifth Avenue and I saw a small girl—not a big + one—start across from the opposite corner, and I exclaimed to + myself joyfully, “That is certainly my Margaret!” so I rushed to + meet her. But as she came nearer I began to doubt, and said to + myself, “It's a Margaret—that is plain enough—but I'm afraid it is + somebody else's.” So when I was passing her I held my shell so she + couldn't help but see it. Dear, she only glanced at it and passed + on! I wondered if she could have overlooked it. It seemed best to + find out; so I turned and followed and caught up with her, and said, + deferentially; “Dear Miss, I already know your first name by the + look of you, but would you mind telling me your other one?” She was + vexed and said pretty sharply, “It's Douglas, if you're so anxious + to know. I know your name by your looks, and I'd advise you to shut + yourself up with your pen and ink and write some more rubbish. I am + surprised that they allow you to run' at large. You are likely to + get run over by a baby-carriage any time. Run along now and don't + let the cows bite you.” + + What an idea! There aren't any cows in Fifth Avenue. But I didn't + smile; I didn't let on to perceive how uncultured she was. She was + from the country, of course, and didn't know what a comical blunder. + she was making. +</pre> + <p> + Mr. Rogers's health was very poor that winter, and Clemens urged him to + try Bermuda, and offered to go back with him; so they sailed away to the + summer island, and though Margaret was gone, there was other entertaining + company—other granddaughters to be adopted, and new friends and old + friends, and diversions of many sorts. Mr. Rogers's son-in-law, William + Evarts Benjamin, came down and joined the little group. It was one of Mark + Twain's real holidays. Mr. Rogers's health improved rapidly, and Mark + Twain was in fine trim. To Mrs. Rogers, at the end of the first week, he + wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR MRS. ROGERS, He is getting along splendidly! This was the very + place for him. He enjoys himself & is as quarrelsome as a cat. + + But he will get a backset if Benjamin goes home. Benjamin is the + brightest man in these regions, & the best company. Bright? He is + much more than that, he is brilliant. He keeps the crowd intensely + alive. + + With love & all good wishes. + S. L. C. +</pre> + <p> + Mark Twain and Henry Rogers were much together and much observed. They + were often referred to as “the King” and “the Rajah,” + and it was always a question whether it was “the King” who + took care of “the Rajah,” or vice versa. There was generally a + group to gather around them, and Clemens was sure of an attentive + audience, whether he wanted to air his philosophies, his views of the + human race, or to read aloud from the verses of Kipling. + </p> + <p> + “I am not fond of all poetry,” he would say; “but + there's something in Kipling that appeals to me. I guess he's just about + my level.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Wallace recalls certain Kipling readings in his room, when his + friends gathered to listen. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + On those Kipling evenings the 'mise-en-scene' was a striking one. + The bare hotel room, the pine woodwork and pine furniture, loose + windows which rattled in the sea-wind. Once in a while a gust of + asthmatic music from the spiritless orchestra downstairs came up the + hallway. Yellow, unprotected gas-lights burned uncertainly, and + Mark Twain in the midst of this lay on his bed (there was no couch) + still in his white serge suit, with the light from the jet shining + down on the crown of his silver hair, making it gleam and glisten + like frosted threads. +</pre> + <p> + In one hand he held his book, in the other he had his pipe, which he used + principally to gesture with in the most dramatic passages. + </p> + <p> + Margaret's small successors became the earliest members of the Angel Fish + Club, which Clemens concluded to organize after a visit to the spectacular + Bermuda aquarium. The pretty angel-fish suggested youth and feminine + beauty to him, and his adopted granddaughters became angel-fish to him + from that time forward. He bought little enamel angel-fish pins, and + carried a number of them with him most of the time, so that he could + create membership on short notice. It was just another of the harmless and + happy diversions of his gentler side. He was always fond of youth and + freshness. He regarded the decrepitude of old age as an unnecessary part + of life. Often he said: + </p> + <p> + “If I had been helping the Almighty when, He created man, I would + have had Him begin at the other end, and start human beings with old age. + How much better it would have been to start old and have all the + bitterness and blindness of age in the beginning! One would not mind then + if he were looking forward to a joyful youth. Think of the joyous prospect + of growing young instead of old! Think of looking forward to eighteen + instead of eighty! Yes, the Almighty made a poor job of it. I wish He had + invited my assistance.” + </p> + <p> + To one of the angel fish he wrote, just after his return: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I miss you, dear. I miss Bermuda, too, but not so much as I miss + you; for you were rare, and occasional and select, and Ltd.; whereas + Bermuda's charms and, graciousnesses were free and common and + unrestricted—like the rain, you know, which falls upon the just and + the unjust alike; a thing which would not happen if I were + superintending the rain's affairs. No, I would rain softly and + sweetly upon the just, but whenever I caught a sample of the unjust + outdoors I would drown him. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0277" id="link2H_4_0277"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLXVII. VIEWS AND ADDRESSES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [As I am beginning this chapter, April 16, 1912, the news comes of + the loss, on her first trip, of the great White Star Line steamer + Titanic, with the destruction of many passengers, among whom are + Frank D. Millet, William T. Stead, Isadore Straus, John Jacob Astor, + and other distinguished men. They died as heroes, remaining with + the ship in order that the women and children might be saved. + + It was the kind of death Frank Millet would have wished to die. + He was always a soldier—a knight. He has appeared from time to + time in these pages, for he was a dear friend of the Clemens + household. One of America's foremost painters; at the time of his + death he was head of the American Academy of Arts in Rome.] +</pre> + <p> + Mark Twain made a number of addresses during the spring of 1908. He spoke + at the Cartoonists' dinner, very soon after his return from Bermuda; he + spoke at the Booksellers' banquet, expressing his debt of obligation to + those who had published and sold his books; he delivered a fine address at + the dinner given by the British Schools and University Club at + Delmonico's, May 25th, in honor of Queen Victoria's birthday. In that + speech he paid high tribute to the Queen for her attitude toward America, + during the crisis of the Civil Wax, and to her royal consort, Prince + Albert. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + What she did for us in America in our time of storm and stress we + shall not forget, and whenever we call it to mind we shall always + gratefully remember the wise and righteous mind that guided her in + it and sustained and supported her—Prince Albert's. We need not + talk any idle talk here to-night about either possible or impossible + war between two countries; there will be no war while we remain sane + and the son of Victoria and Albert sits upon the throne. In + conclusion, I believe I may justly claim to utter the voice of my + country in saying that we hold him in deep honor, and also in + cordially wishing him a long life and a happy reign. +</pre> + <p> + But perhaps his most impressive appearance was at the dedication of the + great City College (May 14, 1908), where President John Finley, who had + been struggling along with insufficient room, was to have space at last + for his freer and fuller educational undertakings. A great number of + honored scholars, statesmen, and diplomats assembled on the college + campus, a spacious open court surrounded by stately college architecture + of medieval design. These distinguished guests were clad in their academic + robes, and the procession could not have been widely different from that + one at Oxford of a year before. But there was something rather fearsome + about it, too. A kind of scaffolding had been reared in the center of the + campus for the ceremonies; and when those grave men in their robes of + state stood grouped upon it the picture was strikingly suggestive of one + of George Cruikshank's drawings of an execution scene at the Tower of + London. Many of the robes were black—these would be the priests—and + the few scarlet ones would be the cardinals who might have assembled for + some royal martyrdom. There was a bright May sunlight over it all, one of + those still, cool brightnesses which served to heighten the weird effect. + I am sure that others felt it besides myself, for everybody seemed + wordless and awed, even at times when there was no occasion for silence. + There was something of another age about the whole setting, to say the + least. + </p> + <p> + We left the place in a motor-car, a crowd of boys following after. As + Clemens got in they gathered around the car and gave the college yell, + ending with “Twain! Twain! Twain!” and added three cheers for + Tom Sawyer, Huck Finn, and Pudd'nhead Wilson. They called for a speech, + but he only said a few words in apology for not granting their request. He + made a speech to them that night at the Waldorf—where he proposed + for the City College a chair of citizenship, an idea which met with hearty + applause. + </p> + <p> + In the same address he referred to the “God Trust” motto on + the coins, and spoke approvingly of the President's order for its removal. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We do not trust in God, in the important matters of life, and not + even a minister of the Gospel will take any coin for a cent more + than its accepted value because of that motto. If cholera should + ever reach these shores we should probably pray to be delivered from + the plague, but we would put our main trust in the Board of Health. +</pre> + <p> + Next morning, commenting on the report of this speech, he said: + </p> + <p> + “If only the reporters would not try to improve on what I say. They + seem to miss the fact that the very art of saying a thing effectively is + in its delicacy, and as they can't reproduce the manner and intonation in + type they make it emphatic and clumsy in trying to convey it to the + reader.” + </p> + <p> + I pleaded that the reporters were often young men, eager, and unmellowed + in their sense of literary art. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he agreed, “they are so afraid their readers + won't see my good points that they set up red flags to mark them and beat + a gong. They mean well, but I wish they wouldn't do it.” + </p> + <p> + He referred to the portion of his speech concerning the motto on the + coins. He had freely expressed similar sentiments on other public + occasions, and he had received a letter criticizing him for saying that we + do not really trust in God in any financial matter. + </p> + <p> + “I wanted to answer it,” he said; “but I destroyed it. + It didn't seem worth noticing.” + </p> + <p> + I asked how the motto had originated. + </p> + <p> + “About 1853 some idiot in Congress wanted to announce to the world + that this was a religious nation, and proposed putting it there, and no + other Congressman had courage enough to oppose it, of course. It took + courage in those days to do a thing like that; but I think the same thing + would happen to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Still the country has become broader. It took a brave man before + the Civil War to confess he had read the 'Age of Reason'.” + </p> + <p> + “So it did, and yet that seems a mild book now. I read it first when + I was a cub pilot, read it with fear and hesitation, but marveling at its + fearlessness and wonderful power. I read it again a year or two ago, for + some reason, and was amazed to see how tame it had become. It seemed that + Paine was apologizing everywhere for hurting the feelings of the reader.” + </p> + <p> + He drifted, naturally, into a discussion of the Knickerbocker Trust + Company's suspension, which had tied up some fifty-five thousand dollars + of his capital, and wondered how many were trusting in God for the return + of these imperiled sums. Clemens himself, at this time, did not expect to + come out whole from that disaster. He had said very little when the news + came, though it meant that his immediate fortunes were locked up, and it + came near stopping the building activities at Redding. It was only the + smaller things of life that irritated him. He often met large calamities + with a serenity which almost resembled indifference. In the Knickerbocker + situation he even found humor as time passed, and wrote a number of gay + letters, some of which found their way into print. + </p> + <p> + It should be added that in the end there was no loss to any of the + Knickerbocker depositors. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0278" id="link2H_4_0278"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLXVIII. REDDING + </h2> + <p> + The building of the new home at Redding had been going steadily forward + for something more than a year. John Mead Howells had made the plans; W. + W. Sunderland and his son Philip, of Danbury, Connecticut, were the + builders, and in the absence of Miss Clemens, then on a concert tour, Mark + Twain's secretary, Miss I. V. Lyon, had superintended the furnishing. + </p> + <p> + “Innocence at Home,” as the place was originally named, was to + be ready for its occupant in June, with every detail in place, as he + desired. He had never visited Redding; he had scarcely even glanced at the + plans or discussed any of the decorations of the new home. He had required + only that there should be one great living-room for the orchestrelle, and + another big room for the billiard-table, with plenty of accommodations for + guests. He had required that the billiard-room be red, for something in + his nature answered to the warm luxury of that color, particularly in + moments of diversion. Besides, his other billiard-rooms had been red, and + such association may not be lightly disregarded. His one other requirement + was that the place should be complete. + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to see it,” he said, “until the cat is + purring on the hearth.” + </p> + <p> + Howells says: + </p> + <p> + “He had grown so weary of change, and so indifferent to it, that he + was without interest.” + </p> + <p> + But it was rather, I think, that he was afraid of losing interest by + becoming wearied with details which were likely to exasperate him; also, + he wanted the dramatic surprise of walking into a home that had been + conjured into existence as with a word. + </p> + <p> + It was expected that the move would be made early in the month; but there + were delays, and it was not until the 18th of June that he took + possession. + </p> + <p> + The plan, at this time, was only to use the Redding place as a summer + residence, and the Fifth Avenue house was not dismantled. A few days + before the 18th the servants, with one exception, were taken up to the new + house, Clemens and myself remaining in the loneliness of No. 21, attending + to the letters in the morning and playing billiards the rest of the time, + waiting for the appointed day and train. It was really a pleasant three + days. He invented a new game, and we were riotous and laughed as loudly as + we pleased. I think he talked very little of the new home which he was so + soon to see. It was referred to no oftener than once or twice a day, and + then I believe only in connection with certain of the billiard-room + arrangements. I have wondered since what picture of it he could have had + in his mind, for he had never seen a photograph. He had a general idea + that it was built upon a hill, and that its architecture was of the + Italian villa order. I confess I had moments of anxiety, for I had + selected the land for him, and had been more or less accessory otherwise. + I did not really worry, for I knew how beautiful and peaceful it all was; + also something of his taste and needs. + </p> + <p> + It had been a dry spring, and country roads were dusty, so that those who + were responsible had been praying for rain, to be followed by a pleasant + day for his arrival. Both petitions were granted; June 18th would fall on + Thursday, and Monday night there came a good, thorough, and refreshing + shower that washed the vegetation clean and laid the dust. The morning of + the 18th was bright and sunny and cool. Clemens was up and shaved by six + o'clock in order to be in time, though the train did not leave until four + in the afternoon—an express newly timed to stop at Redding—its + first trip scheduled for the day of Mark Twain's arrival. + </p> + <p> + We were still playing billiards when word was brought up that the cab was + waiting. My daughter, Louise, whose school on Long Island had closed that + day, was with us. Clemens wore his white flannels and a Panama hat, and at + the station a group quickly collected, reporters and others, to interview + him and speed him to his new home. He was cordial and talkative, and quite + evidently full of pleasant anticipation. A reporter or two and a special + photographer came along, to be present at his arrival. + </p> + <p> + The new, quick train, the green, flying landscape, with glimpses of the + Sound and white sails, the hillsides and clear streams becoming rapidly + steeper and dearer as we turned northward: all seemed to gratify him, and + when he spoke at all it was approvingly. The hour and a half required to + cover the sixty miles of distance seemed very short. As the train slowed + down for the Redding station, he said: + </p> + <p> + “We'll leave this box of candy”—he had bought a large + box on the way—“those colored porters sometimes like candy, + and we can get some more.” + </p> + <p> + He drew out a great handful of silver. + </p> + <p> + “Give them something—give everybody liberally that does any + service.” + </p> + <p> + There was a sort of open-air reception in waiting. Redding had recognized + the occasion as historic. A varied assemblage of vehicles festooned with + flowers had gathered to offer a gallant country welcome. + </p> + <p> + It was now a little before six o'clock of that long June day, still and + dreamlike; and to the people assembled there may have been something which + was not quite reality in the scene. There was a tendency to be very still. + They nodded, waved their hands to him, smiled, and looked their fill; but + a spell lay upon them, and they did not cheer. It would have been a pity + if they had done so. A noise, and the illusion would have been shattered. + </p> + <p> + His carriage led away on the three-mile drive to the house on the hilltop, + and the floral turnout fell in behind. No first impression of a fair land + could have come at a sweeter time. Hillsides were green, fields were white + with daisies, dog-wood and laurel shone among the trees. And over all was + the blue sky, and everywhere the fragrance of June. + </p> + <p> + He was very quiet as we drove along. Once with gentle humor, looking over + a white daisy field, he said: + </p> + <p> + “That is buckwheat. I always recognize buckwheat when I see it. I + wish I knew as much about other things as I know about buckwheat. It seems + to be very plentiful here; it even grows by the roadside.” And a + little later: “This is the kind of a road I like; a good country + road through the woods.” + </p> + <p> + The water was flowing over the mill-dam where the road crosses the + Saugatuck, and he expressed approval of that clear, picturesque little + river, one of those charming Connecticut streams. A little farther on a + brook cascaded down the hillside, and he compared it with some of the tiny + streams of Switzerland, I believe the Giessbach. The lane that led to the + new home opened just above, and as he entered the leafy way he said, + “This is just the kind of a lane I like,” thus completing his + acceptance of everything but the house and the location. + </p> + <p> + The last of the procession had dropped away at the entrance of the lane, + and he was alone with those who had most anxiety for his verdict. They had + not long to wait. As the carriage ascended higher to the open view he + looked away, across the Saugatuck Valley to the nestling village and + church-spire and farm-houses, and to the distant hills, and declared the + land to be a good land and beautiful—a spot to satisfy one's soul. + Then came the house—simple and severe in its architecture—an + Italian villa, such as he had known in Florence, adapted now to American + climate and needs. The scars of building had not all healed yet, but close + to the house waved green grass and blooming flowers that might have been + there always. Neither did the house itself look new. The soft, gray stucco + had taken on a tone that melted into the sky and foliage of its + background. At the entrance his domestic staff waited to greet him, and + then he stepped across the threshold into the wide hall and stood in his + own home for the first time in seventeen years. It was an anxious moment, + and no one spoke immediately. But presently his eye had taken in the + satisfying harmony of the place and followed on through the wide doors + that led to the dining-room—on through the open French windows to an + enchanting vista of tree-tops and distant farmside and blue hills. He + said, very gently: + </p> + <p> + “How beautiful it all is? I did not think it could be as beautiful + as this.” + </p> + <p> + He was taken through the rooms; the great living-room at one end of the + hall—a room on the walls of which there was no picture, but only + color-harmony—and at the other end of the hall, the splendid, + glowing billiard-room, where hung all the pictures in which he took + delight. Then to the floor above, with its spacious apartments and a + continuation of color—welcome and concord, the windows open to the + pleasant evening hills. When he had seen it all—the natural Italian + garden below the terraces; the loggia, whose arches framed landscape + vistas and formed a rare picture-gallery; when he had completed the round + and stood in the billiard-room—his especial domain—once more + he said, as a final verdict: + </p> + <p> + “It is a perfect house—perfect, so far as I can see, in every + detail. It might have been here always.” + </p> + <p> + He was at home there from that moment—absolutely, marvelously at + home, for he fitted the setting perfectly, and there was not a hitch or + flaw in his adaptation. To see him over the billiard-table, five minutes + later, one could easily fancy that Mark Twain, as well as the house, had + “been there always.” Only the presence of his daughters was + needed now to complete his satisfaction in everything. + </p> + <p> + There were guests that first evening—a small home dinner-party—and + so perfect were the appointments and service, that one not knowing would + scarcely have imagined it to be the first dinner served in that lovely + room. A little later; at the foot of the garden of bay and cedar, + neighbors, inspired by Dan Beard, who had recently located near by, set + off some fireworks. Clemens stepped out on the terrace and saw rockets + climbing through the summer sky to announce his arrival. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder why they all go to so much trouble for me,” he said, + softly. “I never go to any trouble for anybody”—a + statement which all who heard it, and all his multitude of readers in + every land, stood ready to deny. + </p> + <p> + That first evening closed with billiards—boisterous, triumphant + billiards—and when with midnight the day ended and the cues were set + in the rack, there was none to say that Mark Twain's first day in his new + home had not been a happy one. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0279" id="link2H_4_0279"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLXIX. FIRST DAYS AT STORMFIELD + </h2> + <p> + I went up next afternoon, for I knew how he dreaded loneliness. We played + billiards for a time, then set out for a walk, following the long drive to + the leafy lane that led to my own property. Presently he said: + </p> + <p> + “In one way I am sorry I did not see this place sooner. I never want + to leave it again. If I had known it was so beautiful I should have + vacated the house in town and moved up here permanently.” + </p> + <p> + I suggested that he could still do so, if he chose, and he entered + immediately into the idea. By and by we turned down a deserted road, + grassy and beautiful, that ran along his land. At one side was a slope + facing the west, and dotted with the slender, cypress-like cedars of New + England. He had asked if that were part of his land, and on being told it + was he said: + </p> + <p> + “I would like Howells to have a house there. We must try to give + that to Howells.” + </p> + <p> + At the foot of the hill we came to a brook and followed it into a meadow. + I told him that I had often caught fine trout there, and that soon I would + bring in some for breakfast. He answered: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I should like that. I don't care to catch them any more + myself. I like them very hot.” + </p> + <p> + We passed through some woods and came out near my own ancient little + house. He noticed it and said: + </p> + <p> + “The man who built that had some memory of Greece in his mind when + he put on that little porch with those columns.” + </p> + <p> + My second daughter, Frances, was coming from a distant school on the + evening train, and the carriage was starting just then to bring her. I + suggested that perhaps he would find it pleasant to make the drive. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he agreed, “I should enjoy that.” + </p> + <p> + So I took the reins, and he picked up little Joy, who came running out + just then, and climbed into the back seat. It was another beautiful + evening, and he was in a talkative humor. Joy pointed out a small turtle + in the road, and he said: + </p> + <p> + “That is a wild turtle. Do you think you could teach it arithmetic?” + </p> + <p> + Joy was uncertain. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he went on, “you ought to get an arithmetic—a + little ten-cent arithmetic—and teach that turtle.” + </p> + <p> + We passed some swampy woods, rather dim and junglelike. + </p> + <p> + “Those,” he said, “are elephant woods.” + </p> + <p> + But Joy answered: + </p> + <p> + “They are fairy woods. The fairies are there, but you can't see them + because they wear magic cloaks.” + </p> + <p> + He said: “I wish I had one of those magic cloaks, sometimes. I had + one once, but it is worn out now.” + </p> + <p> + Joy looked at him reverently, as one who had once been the owner of a + piece of fairyland. + </p> + <p> + It was a sweet drive to and from the village. There are none too many such + evenings in a lifetime. Colonel Harvey's little daughter, Dorothy, came up + a day or two later, and with my daughter Louise spent the first week with + him in the new home. They were created “Angel-Fishes”—the + first in the new aquarium; that is to say, the billiard-room, where he + followed out the idea by hanging a row of colored prints of Bermuda fishes + in a sort of frieze around the walls. Each visiting member was required to + select one as her particular patron fish and he wrote her name upon it. It + was his delight to gather his juvenile guests in this room and teach them + the science of billiard angles; but it was so difficult to resist taking + the cue and making plays himself that he was required to stand on a little + platform and give instruction just out of reach. His snowy flannels and + gleaming white hair, against those rich red walls, with those small, + summer-clad players, made a pretty picture. + </p> + <p> + The place did not retain its original name. He declared that it would + always be “Innocence at Home” to the angel-fish visitors, but + that the title didn't remain continuously appropriate. The money which he + had derived from Captain Stormfield's Visit to Heaven had been used to + build the loggia wing, and he considered the name of “Stormfield” + as a substitute. When, presently, the summer storms gathered on that + rock-bound, open hill, with its wide reaches of vine and shrub-wild, + fierce storms that bent the birch and cedar, and strained at the bay and + huckleberry, with lightning and turbulent wind and thunder, followed by + the charging rain—the name seemed to become peculiarly appropriate. + Standing with his head bared to the tumult, his white hair tossing in the + blast, and looking out upon the wide splendor of the spectacle, he + rechristened the place, and “Stormfield” it became and + remained. + </p> + <p> + The last day of Mark Twain's first week in Redding, June 25th, was + saddened by the news of the death of Grover Cleveland at his home in + Princeton, New Jersey. Clemens had always been an ardent Cleveland + admirer, and to Mrs. Cleveland now he sent this word of condolence— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Your husband was a man I knew and loved and honored for twenty-five + years. I mourn with you. +</pre> + <p> + And once during the evening he said: + </p> + <p> + “He was one of our two or three real Presidents. There is none to + take his place.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0280" id="link2H_4_0280"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLXX. THE ALDRICH MEMORIAL. + </h2> + <p> + At the end of June came the dedication at Portsmouth, New Hampshire, of + the Thomas Bailey Aldrich Memorial Museum, which the poet's wife had + established there in the old Aldrich homestead. It was hot weather. We + were obliged to take a rather poor train from South Norwalk, and Clemens + was silent and gloomy most of the way to Boston. Once there, however, + lodged in a cool and comfortable hotel, matters improved. He had brought + along for reading the old copy of Sir Thomas Malory's Arthur Tales, and + after dinner he took off his clothes and climbed into bed and sat up and + read aloud from those stately legends, with comments that I wish I could + remember now, only stopping at last when overpowered with sleep. + </p> + <p> + We went on a special train to Portsmouth next morning through the summer + heat, and assembled, with those who were to speak, in the back portion of + the opera-house, behind the scenes: Clemens was genial and good-natured + with all the discomfort of it; and he liked to fancy, with Howells, who + had come over from Kittery Point, how Aldrich must be amused at the whole + circumstance if he could see them punishing themselves to do honor to his + memory. Richard Watson Gilder was there, and Hamilton Mabie; also Governor + Floyd of New Hampshire; Colonel Higginson, Robert Bridges, and other + distinguished men. We got to the more open atmosphere of the stage + presently, and the exercises began. Clemens was last on the program. + </p> + <p> + The others had all said handsome, serious things, and Clemens himself had + mentally prepared something of the sort; but when his turn came, and he + rose to speak, a sudden reaction must have set in, for he delivered an + address that certainly would have delighted Aldrich living, and must have + delighted him dead, if he could hear it. It was full of the most charming + humor, delicate, refreshing, and spontaneous. The audience, that had been + maintaining a proper gravity throughout, showed its appreciation in + ripples of merriment that grew presently into genuine waves of laughter. + He spoke out his regret for having worn black clothes. It was a mistake, + he said, to consider this a solemn time—Aldrich would not have + wished it to be so considered. He had been a man who loved humor and + brightness and wit, and had helped to make life merry and delightful. + Certainly, if he could know, he would not wish this dedication of his own + home to be a lugubrious, smileless occasion. Outside, when the services + were ended, the venerable juvenile writer, J. T. Trowbridge, came up to + Clemens with extended hand. Clemens said: “Trowbridge, are you still + alive? You must be a thousand years old. Why, I listened to your stories + while I was being rocked in the cradle.” Trowbridge said: + </p> + <p> + “Mark, there's some mistake. My earliest infant smile was wakened + with one of your jokes.” + </p> + <p> + They stood side by side against a fence in the blazing sun and were + photographed—an interesting picture. + </p> + <p> + We returned to Boston that evening. Clemens did not wish to hurry in the + summer heat, and we remained another day quietly sight-seeing, and driving + around and around Commonwealth Avenue in a victoria in the cool of the + evening. Once, remembering Aldrich, he said: + </p> + <p> + “I was just planning Tom Sawyer when he was beginning the 'Story of + a Bad Boy'. When I heard that he was writing that I thought of giving up + mine, but Aldrich insisted that it would be a foolish thing to do. He + thought my Missouri boy could not by any chance conflict with his boy of + New England, and of course he was right.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke of how great literary minds usually came along in company. He + said: + </p> + <p> + “Now and then, on the stream of time, small gobs of that thing which + we call genius drift down, and a few of these lodge at some particular + point, and others collect about them and make a sort of intellectual + island—a towhead, as they say on the river—such an + accumulation of intellect we call a group, or school, and name it. + </p> + <p> + “Thirty years ago there was the Cambridge group. Now there's been + still another, which included Aldrich and Howells and Stedman and Cable. + It will soon be gone. I suppose they will have to name it by and by.” + </p> + <p> + He pointed out houses here and there of people he had known and visited in + other days. The driver was very anxious to go farther, to other and more + distinguished sights. Clemens mildly but firmly refused any variation of + the program, and so we kept on driving around and around the shaded loop + of Beacon Street until dusk fell and the lights began to twinkle among the + trees. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0281" id="link2H_4_0281"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLXXI. DEATH OF “SAM” MOFFETT + </h2> + <p> + Clemens' next absence from Redding came on August 1, 1908, when the sudden + and shocking news was received of the drowning of his nephew, Samuel E. + Moffett, in the surf of the Jersey shore. Moffett was his nearest male + relative, and a man of fine intellect and talents. He was superior in + those qualities which men love—he was large-minded and + large-hearted, and of noble ideals. With much of the same sense of humor + which had made his uncle's fame, he had what was really an abnormal + faculty of acquiring and retaining encyclopedic data. Once as a child he + had visited Hartford when Clemens was laboring over his history game. The + boy was much interested, and asked permission to help. His uncle willingly + consented, and referred him to the library for his facts. But he did not + need to consult the books; he already had English history stored away, and + knew where to find every detail of it. At the time of his death Moffett + held an important editorial position on Collier's Weekly. + </p> + <p> + Clemens was fond and proud of his nephew. Returning from the funeral, he + was much depressed, and a day or two later became really ill. He was in + bed for a few days, resting, he said, after the intense heat of the + journey. Then he was about again and proposed billiards as a diversion. We + were all alone one very still, warm August afternoon playing, when he + suddenly said: + </p> + <p> + “I feel a little dizzy; I will sit down a moment.” + </p> + <p> + I brought him a glass of water and he seemed to recover, but when he rose + and started to play I thought he had a dazed look. He said: + </p> + <p> + “I have lost my memory. I don't know which is my ball. I don't know + what game we are playing.” + </p> + <p> + But immediately this condition passed, and we thought little of it, + considering it merely a phase of biliousness due to his recent journey. I + have been told since, by eminent practitioners, that it was the first + indication of a more serious malady. + </p> + <p> + He became apparently quite himself again and showed his usual vigor-light + of step and movement, able to skip up and down stairs as heretofore. In a + letter to Mrs. Crane, August 12th, he spoke of recent happenings: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAR AUNT SUE,—It was a most moving, a most heartbreaking sight, + the spectacle of that stunned & crushed & inconsolable family. I + came back here in bad shape, & had a bilious collapse, but I am all + right again, though the doctor from New York has given peremptory + orders that I am not to stir from here before frost. O fortunate + Sam Moffett! fortunate Livy Clemens! doubly fortunate Susy! Those + swords go through & through my heart, but there is never a moment + that I am not glad, for the sake of the dead, that they have + escaped. + + How Livy would love this place! How her very soul would steep + itself thankfully in this peace, this tranquillity, this deep + stillness, this dreamy expanse of woodsy hill & valley! You must + come, Aunt Sue, & stay with us a real good visit. Since June 26 we + have had 21 guests, & they have all liked it and said they would + come again. +</pre> + <p> + To Howells, on the same day, he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Won't you & Mrs. Howells & Mildred come & give us as many days as + you can spare & examine John's triumph? It is the most satisfactory + house I am acquainted with, & the most satisfactorily situated.. + .. I have dismissed my stenographer, & have entered upon a + holiday whose other end is the cemetery. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0282" id="link2H_4_0282"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLXXII. STORMFIELD ADVENTURES + </h2> + <p> + Clemens had fully decided, by this time, to live the year round in the + retirement at Stormfield, and the house at 21 Fifth Avenue was being + dismantled. He had also, as he said, given up his dictations for the time, + at least, after continuing them, with more or less regularity, for a + period of two and a half years, during which he had piled up about half a + million words of comment and reminiscence. His general idea had been to + add portions of this matter to his earlier books as the copyrights + expired, to give them new life and interest, and he felt that he had + plenty now for any such purpose. + </p> + <p> + He gave his time mainly to his guests, his billiards, and his reading, + though of course he could not keep from writing on this subject and that + as the fancy moved him, and a drawer in one of his dressers began to + accumulate fresh though usually fragmentary manuscripts... He read the + daily paper, but he no longer took the keen, restless interest in public + affairs. New York politics did not concern him any more, and national + politics not much. When the Evening Post wrote him concerning the + advisability of renominating Governor Hughes he replied: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + If you had asked me two months ago my answer would have been prompt + & loud & strong: yes, I want Governor Hughes renominated. But it is + too late, & my mouth is closed. I have become a citizen & taxpayer + of Connecticut, & could not now, without impertinence, meddle in + matters which are none of my business. I could not do it with + impertinence without trespassing on the monopoly of another. +</pre> + <p> + Howells speaks of Mark Twain's “absolute content” with his new + home, and these are the proper words' to express it. He was like a + storm-beaten ship that had drifted at last into a serene South Sea haven. + </p> + <p> + The days began and ended in tranquillity. There were no special morning + regulations: One could have his breakfast at any time and at almost any + place. He could have it in bed if he liked, or in the loggia or + livingroom, or billiard-room. He might even have it in the diningroom, or + on the terrace, just outside. Guests—there were usually guests—might + suit their convenience in this matter—also as to the forenoons. The + afternoon brought games—that is, billiards, provided the guest knew + billiards, otherwise hearts. Those two games were his safety-valves, and + while there were no printed requirements relating to them the unwritten + code of Stormfield provided that guests, of whatever age or previous + faith, should engage in one or both of these diversions. + </p> + <p> + Clemens, who usually spent his forenoon in bed with his reading and his + letters, came to the green table of skill and chance eager for the onset; + if the fates were kindly, he approved of them openly. If not—well, + the fates were old enough to know better, and, as heretofore, had to take + the consequences. Sometimes, when the weather was fine and there were no + games (this was likely to be on Sunday afternoons), there were drives + among the hills and along the Saugatuck through the Bedding Glen. + </p> + <p> + The cat was always “purring on the hearth” at Stormfield—several + cats—for Mark Twain's fondness for this clean, intelligent domestic + animal remained, to the end, one of his happiest characteristics. There + were never too many cats at Stormfield, and the “hearth” + included the entire house, even the billiard-table. When, as was likely to + happen at any time during the game, the kittens Sinbad, or Danbury, or + Billiards would decide to hop up and play with the balls, or sit in the + pockets and grab at them as they went by, the game simply added this + element of chance, and the uninvited player was not disturbed. The cats + really owned Stormfield; any one could tell that from their deportment. + Mark Twain held the title deeds; but it was Danbury and Sinbad and the + others that possessed the premises. They occupied any portion of the house + or its furnishings at will, and they never failed to attract attention. + Mark Twain might be preoccupied and indifferent to the comings and goings + of other members of the household; but no matter what he was doing, let + Danbury appear in the offing and he was observed and greeted with due + deference, and complimented and made comfortable. Clemens would arise from + the table and carry certain choice food out on the terrace to Tammany, and + be satisfied with almost no acknowledgment by way of appreciation. One + could not imagine any home of Mark Twain where the cats were not supreme. + In the evening, as at 21 Fifth Avenue, there was music—the stately + measures of the orchestrelle—while Mark Twain smoked and mingled + unusual speculation with long, long backward dreams. + </p> + <p> + It was three months from the day of arrival in Redding that some guests + came to Stormfield without invitation—two burglars, who were + carrying off some bundles of silver when they were discovered. Claude, the + butler, fired a pistol after them to hasten their departure, and Clemens, + wakened by the shots, thought the family was opening champagne and went to + sleep again. + </p> + <p> + It was far in the night; but neighbor H. A. Lounsbury and Deputy-Sheriff + Banks were notified, and by morning the thieves were captured, though only + after a pretty desperate encounter, during which the officer received a + bullet-wound. Lounsbury and a Stormfield guest had tracked them in the + dark with a lantern to Bethel, a distance of some seven miles. The + thieves, also their pursuers, had boarded the train there. Sheriff Banks + was waiting at the West Redding station when the train came down, and + there the capture was made. It was a remarkably prompt and shrewd piece of + work. Clemens gave credit for its success chiefly to Lounsbury, whose + talents in many fields always impressed him. The thieves were taken to the + Redding Town Hall for a preliminary healing. Subsequently they received + severe sentences. + </p> + <p> + Clemens tacked this notice on his front door: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + NOTICE + + TO THE NEXT BURGLAR + + There is nothing but plated ware in this house now and henceforth. + + You will find it in that brass thing in the dining-room over in the + corner by the basket of kittens. + + If you want the basket put the kittens in the brass thing. Do not + make a noise—it disturbs the family. + + You will find rubbers in the front hall by that thing which has the + umbrellas in it, chiffonnier, I think they call it, or pergola, or + something like that. + + Please close the door when you go away! + + Very truly yours, + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0283" id="link2H_4_0283"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLXXIII. STORMFIELD PHILOSOPHIES + </h2> + <p> + Now came the tranquil days of the Connecticut autumn. The change of the + landscape colors was a constant delight to Mark Twain. There were several + large windows in his room, and he called them his picture-gallery. The + window-panes were small, and each formed a separate picture of its own + that was changing almost hourly. The red tones that began to run through + the foliage; the red berry bushes; the fading grass, and the little + touches of sparkling frost that came every now and then at early morning; + the background of distant blue hills and changing skies-these things gave + his gallery a multitude of variation that no art-museums could furnish. He + loved it all, and he loved to walk out in it, pacing up and down the + terrace, or the long path that led to the pergola at the foot of a natural + garden. If a friend came, he was willing to walk much farther; and we + often descended the hill in one direction or another, though usually going + toward the “gorge,” a romantic spot where a clear brook found + its way through a deep and rather dangerous-looking chasm. Once he was + persuaded to descend into this fairy-like place, for it was well worth + exploring; but his footing was no longer sure and he did not go far. + </p> + <p> + He liked better to sit on the grass-grown, rocky arch above and look down + into it, and let his talk follow his mood. He liked to contemplate the + geology of his surroundings, the record of the ageless periods of + construction required to build the world. The marvels of science always + appealed to him. He reveled in the thought of the almost limitless + stretches of time, the millions upon millions of years that had been + required for this stratum and that—he liked to amaze himself with + the sounding figures. I remember him expressing a wish to see the Grand + Canon of Arizona, where, on perpendicular walls six thousand feet high, + the long story of geological creation is written. I had stopped there + during my Western trip of the previous year, and I told him something of + its wonders. I urged him to see them for himself, offering to go with him. + He said: + </p> + <p> + “I should enjoy that; but the railroad journey is so far and I + should have no peace. The papers would get hold of it, and I would have to + make speeches and be interviewed, and I never want to do any of those + things again.” + </p> + <p> + I suggested that the railroads would probably be glad to place a private + car at his service, so that he might travel in comfort; but he shook his + head. + </p> + <p> + “That would only make me more conspicuous.” + </p> + <p> + “How about a disguise?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, “I might put on a red wig and false + whiskers and change my name, but I couldn't disguise my drawling speech + and they'd find me out.” + </p> + <p> + It was amusing, but it was rather sad, too. His fame had deprived him of + valued privileges. + </p> + <p> + He talked of many things during these little excursions. Once he told how + he had successively advised his nephew, Moffett, in the matter of + obtaining a desirable position. Moffett had wanted to become a reporter. + Clemens devised a characteristic scheme. He said: + </p> + <p> + “I will get you a place on any newspaper you may select if you + promise faithfully to follow out my instructions.” + </p> + <p> + The applicant agreed, eagerly enough. Clemens said: + </p> + <p> + “Go to the newspaper of your choice. Say that you are idle and want + work, that you are pining for work—longing for it, and that you ask + no wages, and will support yourself. All that you ask is work. That you + will do anything, sweep, fill the inkstands, mucilage-bottles, run + errands, and be generally useful. You must never ask for wages. You must + wait until the offer of wages comes to you. You must work just as + faithfully and just as eagerly as if you were being paid for it. Then see + what happens.” + </p> + <p> + The scheme had worked perfectly. Young Moffett had followed his + instructions to the letter. By and by he attracted attention. He was + employed in a variety of ways that earned him the gratitude and the + confidence of the office. In obedience to further instructions, he began + to make short, brief, unadorned notices of small news matters that came + under his eye and laid them on the city editor's desk. No pay was asked; + none was expected. Occasionally one of the items was used. Then, of + course, it happened, as it must sooner or later at a busy time, that he + was given a small news assignment. There was no trouble about his progress + after that. He had won the confidence of the management and shown that he + was not afraid to work. + </p> + <p> + The plan had been variously tried since, Clemens said, and he could not + remember any case in which it had failed. The idea may have grown out of + his own pilot apprenticeship on the river, when cub pilots not only + received no salary, but paid for the privilege of learning. + </p> + <p> + Clemens discussed public matters less often than formerly, but they were + not altogether out of his mind. He thought our republic was in a fair way + to become a monarchy—that the signs were already evident. He + referred to the letter which he had written so long ago in Boston, with + its amusing fancy of the Archbishop of Dublin and his Grace of Ponkapog, + and declared that, after all, it contained something of prophecy.—[See + chap. xcvii; also Appendix M.]—He would not live to see the actual + monarchy, he said, but it was coming. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not expecting it in my time nor in my children's time, though + it may be sooner than we think. There are two special reasons for it and + one condition. The first reason is, that it is in the nature of man to + want a definite something to love, honor, reverently look up to and obey; + a God and King, for example. The second reason is, that while little + republics have lasted long, protected by their poverty and insignificance, + great ones have not. And the condition is, vast power and wealth, which + breed commercial and political corruptions, and incite public favorites to + dangerous ambitions.” + </p> + <p> + He repeated what I had heard him say before, that in one sense we already + had a monarchy; that is to say, a ruling public and political aristocracy + which could create a Presidential succession. He did not say these things + bitterly now, but reflectively and rather indifferently. + </p> + <p> + He was inclined to speak unhopefully of the international plans for + universal peace, which were being agitated rather persistently. + </p> + <p> + “The gospel of peace,” he said, “is always making a deal + of noise, always rejoicing in its progress but always neglecting to + furnish statistics. There are no peaceful nations now. All Christendom is + a soldier-camp. The poor have been taxed in some nations to the starvation + point to support the giant armaments which Christian governments have + built up, each to protect itself from the rest of the Christian + brotherhood, and incidentally to snatch any scrap of real estate left + exposed by a weaker owner. King Leopold II. of Belgium, the most intensely + Christian monarch, except Alexander VI., that has escaped hell thus far, + has stolen an entire kingdom in Africa, and in fourteen years of Christian + endeavor there has reduced the population from thirty millions to fifteen + by murder and mutilation and overwork, confiscating the labor of the + helpless natives, and giving them nothing in return but salvation and a + home in heaven, furnished at the last moment by the Christian priest. + </p> + <p> + “Within the last generation each Christian power has turned the bulk + of its attention to finding out newer and still newer and more and more + effective ways of killing Christians, and, incidentally, a pagan now and + then; and the surest way to get rich quickly in Christ's earthly kingdom + is to invent a kind of gun that can kill more Christians at one shot than + any other existing kind. All the Christian nations are at it. The more + advanced they are, the bigger and more destructive engines of war they + create.” + </p> + <p> + Once, speaking of battles great and small, and how important even a small + battle must seem to a soldier who had fought in no other, he said: + </p> + <p> + “To him it is a mighty achievement, an achievement with a big A, + when to a wax-worn veteran it would be a mere incident. For instance, to + the soldier of one battle, San Juan Hill was an Achievement with an A as + big as the Pyramids of Cheops; whereas, if Napoleon had fought it, he + would have set it down on his cuff at the time to keep from forgetting it + had happened. But that is all natural and human enough. We are all like + that.” + </p> + <p> + The curiosities and absurdities of religious superstitions never failed to + furnish him with themes more or less amusing. I remember one Sunday, when + he walked down to have luncheon at my house, he sat under the shade and + fell to talking of Herod's slaughter of the innocents, which he said could + not have happened. + </p> + <p> + “Tacitus makes no mention of it,” he said, “and he would + hardly have overlooked a sweeping order like that, issued by a petty ruler + like Herod. Just consider a little king of a corner of the Roman Empire + ordering the slaughter of the first-born of a lot of Roman subjects. Why, + the Emperor would have reached out that long arm of his and dismissed + Herod. That tradition is probably about as authentic as those connected + with a number of old bridges in Europe which are said to have been built + by Satan. The inhabitants used to go to Satan to build bridges for them, + promising him the soul of the first one that crossed the bridge; then, + when Satan had the bridge done, they would send over a rooster or a + jackass—a cheap jackass; that was for Satan, and of course they + could fool him that way every time. Satan must have been pretty simple, + even according to the New Testament, or he wouldn't have led Christ up on + a high mountain and offered him the world if he would fall down and + worship him. That was a manifestly absurd proposition, because Christ, as + the Son of God, already owned the world; and, besides, what Satan showed + him was only a few rocky acres of Palestine. It is just as if some one + should try to buy Rockefeller, the owner of all the Standard Oil Company, + with a gallon of kerosene.” + </p> + <p> + He often spoke of the unseen forces of creation, the immutable laws that + hold the planet in exact course and bring the years and the seasons always + exactly on schedule time. “The Great Law” was a phrase often + on his lips. The exquisite foliage, the cloud shapes, the varieties of + color everywhere: these were for him outward manifestations of the Great + Law, whose principle I understood to be unity—exact relations + throughout all nature; and in this I failed to find any suggestion of + pessimism, but only of justice. Once he wrote on a card for preservation: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + From everlasting to everlasting, this is the law: the sum of wrong & + misery shall always keep exact step with the sum of human + blessedness. + + No “civilization,” no “advance,” has ever modified these proportions + by even the shadow of a shade, nor ever can, while our race endures. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0284" id="link2H_4_0284"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLXIV. CITIZEN AND FARMER + </h2> + <p> + The procession of guests at Stormfield continued pretty steadily. Clemens + kept a book in which visitors set down their names and the dates of + arrival and departure, and when they failed to attend to these matters he + diligently did it himself after they were gone. + </p> + <p> + Members of the Harper Company came up with their wives; “angel-fish” + swam in and out of the aquarium; Bermuda friends came to see the new home; + Robert Collier, the publisher, and his wife—“Mrs. Sally,” + as Clemens liked to call her—paid their visits; Lord Northcliffe, + who was visiting America, came with Colonel Harvey, and was so impressed + with the architecture of Stormfield that he adopted its plans for a + country-place he was about to build in Newfoundland. Helen Keller, with + Mr. and Mrs. Macy, came up for a week-end visit. Mrs. Crane came over from + Elmira; and, behold! one day came the long-ago sweetheart of his + childhood, little Laura Hawkins—Laura Frazer now, widowed and in the + seventies, with a granddaughter already a young lady quite grown up. + </p> + <p> + That Mark Twain was not wearying of the new conditions we may gather from + a letter written to Mrs. Rogers in October: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I've grown young in these months of dissipation here. And I have + left off drinking—it isn't necessary now. Society & theology are + sufficient for me. +</pre> + <p> + To Helen Allen, a Bermuda “Angel-Fish,” he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We have good times here in this soundless solitude on the hilltop. + The moment I saw the house I was glad I built it, & now I am gladder + & gladder all the time. I was not dreaming of living here except in + the summer-time—that was before I saw this region & the house, you + see—but that is all changed now; I shall stay here winter & summer + both & not go back to New York at all. My child, it's as tranquil & + contenting as Bermuda. You will be very welcome here, dear. +</pre> + <p> + He interested himself in the affairs and in the people of Redding. Not + long after his arrival he had gathered in all the inhabitants of the + country-side, neighbors of every quality, for closer acquaintance, and + threw open to them for inspection every part of the new house. He + appointed Mrs. Lounsbury, whose acquaintance was very wide; a sort of + committee on reception, and stood at the entrance with her to welcome each + visitor in person. + </p> + <p> + It was a sort of gala day, and the rooms and the grounds were filled with + the visitors. In the dining-room there were generous refreshments. Again, + not long afterward, he issued a special invitation to all of + those-architects, builders, and workmen who had taken any part, however + great or small, in the building of his home. Mr. and Mrs. Littleton were + visiting Stormfield at this time, and both Clemens and Littleton spoke to + these assembled guests from the terrace, and made them feel that their + efforts had been worth while. + </p> + <p> + Presently the idea developed to establish something that would be of + benefit to his neighbors, especially to those who did not have access to + much reading-matter. He had been for years flooded with books by authors + and publishers, and there was a heavy surplus at his home in the city. + When these began to arrive he had a large number of volumes set aside as + the nucleus of a public library. An unused chapel not far away—it + could be seen from one of his windows—was obtained for the purpose; + officers were elected; a librarian was appointed, and so the Mark Twain + Library of Redding was duly established. Clemens himself was elected its + first president, with the resident physician, Dr. Ernest H. Smith, + vice-president, and another resident, William E. Grumman, librarian. On + the afternoon of its opening the president made a brief address. He said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I am here to speak a few instructive words to my fellow-farmers. + I suppose you are all farmers: I am going to put in a crop next + year, when I have been here long enough and know how. I couldn't + make a turnip stay on a tree now after I had grown it. I like to + talk. It would take more than the Redding air to make me keep + still, and I like to instruct people. It's noble to be good, and + it's nobler to teach others to be good, and less trouble. I am glad + to help this library. We get our morals from books. I didn't get + mine from books, but I know that morals do come from books + —theoretically at least. Mr. Beard or Mr. Adams will give some + land, and by and by we are going to have a building of our own. +</pre> + <p> + This statement was news to both Mr. Beard and Mr. Adams and an inspiration + of the moment; but Mr. Theodore Adams, who owned a most desirable site, + did in fact promptly resolve to donate it for library purposes. Clemens + continued: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I am going to help build that library with contributions from my + visitors. Every male guest who comes to my house will have to + contribute a dollar or go away without his baggage. + + —[A characteristic notice to guests requiring them to contribute a + dollar to the Library Building Fund was later placed on the + billiard-room mantel at Stormfield with good results.]—If those + burglars that broke into my house recently had done that they would + have been happier now, or if they'd have broken into this library + they would have read a few books and led a better life. Now they + are in jail, and if they keep on they will go to Congress. When a + person starts downhill you can never tell where he's going to stop. + I am sorry for those burglars. They got nothing that they wanted + and scared away most of my servants. Now we are putting in a + burglar-alarm instead of a dog. Some advised the dog, but it costs + even more to entertain a dog than a burglar. I am having the ground + electrified, so that for a mile around any one who puts his foot + across the line sets off an alarm that will be heard in Europe. Now + I will introduce the real president to you, a man whom you know + already—Dr. Smith. +</pre> + <p> + So a new and important benefit was conferred upon the community, and there + was a feeling that Redding, besides having a literary colony, was to be + literary in fact. + </p> + <p> + It might have been mentioned earlier that Redding already had literary + associations when Mark Twain arrived. As far back as Revolutionary days + Joel Barlow, a poet of distinction, and once Minister to France, had been + a resident of Redding, and there were still Barlow descendants in the + township. + </p> + <p> + William Edgar Grumman, the librarian, had written the story of Redding's + share in the Revolutionary War—no small share, for Gen. Israel + Putnam's army had been quartered there during at least one long, trying + winter. Charles Burr Todd, of one of the oldest Redding families, himself—still + a resident, was also the author of a Redding history. + </p> + <p> + Of literary folk not native to Redding, Dora Reed Goodale and her sister + Elaine, the wife of Dr. Charles A. Eastman, had, long been residents of + Redding Center; Jeanette L. Gilder and Ida M. Tarbell had summer homes on + Redding Ridge; Dan Beard, as already mentioned, owned a place near the + banks of the Saugatuck, while Kate V. St. Maur, also two of Nathaniel + Hawthorne's granddaughters had recently located adjoining the Stormfield + lands. By which it will be seen that Redding was in no way unsuitable as a + home for Mark Twain. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0285" id="link2H_4_0285"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLXV. A MANTEL AND A BABY ELEPHANT + </h2> + <p> + Mark Twain was the receiver of two notable presents that year. The first + of these, a mantel from Hawaii, presented to him by the Hawaiian Promotion + Committee, was set in place in the billiard-room on the morning of his + seventy-third birthday. This committee had written, proposing to build for + his new home either a mantel or a chair, as he might prefer, the same to + be carved from the native woods. Clemens decided on a billiard-room + mantel, and John Howells forwarded the proper measurements. So, in due + time, the mantel arrived, a beautiful piece of work and in fine condition, + with the Hawaiian word, “Aloha,” one of the sweetest forms of + greeting in any tongue, carved as its central ornament. + </p> + <p> + To the donors of the gift Clemens wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The beautiful mantel was put in its place an hour ago, & its + friendly “Aloha” was the first uttered greeting received on my 73d + birthday. It is rich in color, rich in quality, & rich in + decoration; therefore it exactly harmonized with the taste for such + things which was born in me & which I have seldom been able to + indulge to my content. It will be a great pleasure to me, daily + renewed, to have under my eye this lovely reminder of the loveliest + fleet of islands that lies anchored in any ocean, & I beg to thank + the committee for providing me that pleasure. +</pre> + <p> + To F. N. Otremba, who had carved the mantel, he sent this word: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I am grateful to you for the valued compliment to me in the labor of + heart and hand and brain which you have put upon it. It is worthy + of the choicest place in the house and it has it. +</pre> + <p> + It was the second beautiful mantel in Stormfield—the Hartford + library mantel, removed when that house was sold, having been installed in + the Stormfield living-room. + </p> + <p> + Altogether the seventy-third birthday was a pleasant one. Clemens, in the + morning, drove down to see the library lot which Mr. Theodore Adams had + presented, and the rest of the day there were fine, close billiard games, + during which he was in the gentlest and happiest moods. He recalled the + games of two years before, and as we stopped playing I said: + </p> + <p> + “I hope a year from now we shall be here, still playing the great + game.” + </p> + <p> + And he answered, as then: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is a great game—the best game on earth.” And he + held out his hand and thanked me for coming, as he never failed to do when + we parted, though it always hurt me a little, for the debt was so largely + mine. + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain's second present came at Christmas-time. About ten days + earlier, a letter came from Robert J. Collier, saying that he had bought a + baby elephant which he intended to present to Mark Twain as a Christmas + gift. He added that it would be sent as soon as he could get a car for it, + and the loan of a keeper from Barnum & Bailey's headquarters at + Bridgeport. + </p> + <p> + The news created a disturbance in Stormfield. One could not refuse, + discourteously and abruptly, a costly present like that; but it seemed a + disaster to accept it. An elephant would require a roomy and warm place, + also a variety of attention which Stormfield was not prepared to supply. + The telephone was set going and certain timid excuses were offered by the + secretary. There was no good place to put an elephant in Stormfield, but + Mr. Collier said, quite confidently: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, put him in the garage.” + </p> + <p> + “But there's no heat in the garage.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, put him in the loggia, then. That's closed in, isn't it, for + the winter? Plenty of sunlight—just the place for a young elephant.” + </p> + <p> + “But we play cards in the loggia. We use it for a sort of + sun-parlor.” + </p> + <p> + “But that wouldn't matter. He's a kindly, playful little thing. + He'll be just like a kitten. I'll send the man up to look over the place + and tell you just how to take care of him, and I'll send up several bales + of hay in advance. It isn't a large elephant, you know: just a little one—a + regular plaything.” + </p> + <p> + There was nothing further to be done; only to wait and dread until the + Christmas present's arrival. + </p> + <p> + A few days before Christmas ten bales of hay arrived and several bushels + of carrots. This store of provender aroused no enthusiasm at Stormfield. + It would seem there was no escape now. + </p> + <p> + On Christmas morning Mr. Lounsbury telephoned up that there was a man at + the station who said he was an elephant-trainer from Barnum & + Bailey's, sent by Mr. Collier to look at the elephant's quarters and get + him settled when he should arrive. Orders were given to bring the man + over. The day of doom was at hand. + </p> + <p> + But Lounsbury's detective instinct came once more into play. He had seen a + good many elephant-trainers at Bridgeport, and he thought this one had a + doubtful look. + </p> + <p> + “Where is the elephant?” he asked, as they drove along. + </p> + <p> + “He will arrive at noon.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going to put him?” + </p> + <p> + “In the loggia.” + </p> + <p> + “How big is he?” + </p> + <p> + “About the size of a cow.” + </p> + <p> + “How long have you been with Barnum and Bailey?” + </p> + <p> + “Six years.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you must know some friends of mine” (naming two that had + no existence until that moment). + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, indeed. I know them well.” + </p> + <p> + Lounsbury didn't say any more just then, but he had a feeling that perhaps + the dread at Stormfield had grown unnecessarily large. Something told him + that this man seemed rather more like a butler, or a valet, than an + elephant-trainer. They drove to Stormfield, and the trainer looked over + the place. It would do perfectly, he said. He gave a few instructions as + to the care of this new household feature, and was driven back to the + station to bring it. + </p> + <p> + Lounsbury came back by and by, bringing the elephant but not the trainer. + It didn't need a trainer. It was a beautiful specimen, with soft, smooth + coat and handsome trappings, perfectly quiet, well-behaved and small—suited + to the loggia, as Collier had said—for it was only two feet long and + beautifully made of cloth and cotton—one of the forest toy elephants + ever seen anywhere. + </p> + <p> + It was a good joke, such as Mark Twain loved—a carefully prepared, + harmless bit of foolery. He wrote Robert Collier, threatening him with all + sorts of revenge, declaring that the elephant was devastating Stormfield. + </p> + <p> + “To send an elephant in a trance, under pretense that it was dead or + stuffed!” he said. “The animal came to life, as you knew it + would, and began to observe Christmas, and we now have no furniture left + and no servants and no visitors, no friends, no photographs, no burglars—nothing + but the elephant. Be kind, be merciful, be generous; take him away and + send us what is left of the earthquake.” + </p> + <p> + Collier wrote that he thought it unkind of him to look a gift-elephant in + the trunk. And with such chaffing and gaiety the year came to an end. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0286" id="link2H_4_0286"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLXXVI. SHAKESPEARE-BACON TALK + </h2> + <p> + When the bad weather came there was not much company at Stormfield, and I + went up regularly each afternoon, for it was lonely on that bleak hill, + and after his forenoon of reading or writing he craved diversion. My own + home was a little more than a half mile away, and I enjoyed the walk, + whatever the weather. I usually managed to arrive about three o'clock. He + would watch from his high windows until he saw me raise the hilltop, and + he would be at the door when I arrived, so that there might be no delay in + getting at the games. Or, if it happened that he wished to show me + something in his room, I would hear his rich voice sounding down the + stair. Once, when I arrived, I heard him calling, and going up I found him + highly pleased with the arrangement of two pictures on a chair, placed so + that the glasses of them reflected the sunlight on the ceiling. He said: + </p> + <p> + “They seem to catch the reflection of the sky and the winter colors. + Sometimes the hues are wonderfully iridescent.” + </p> + <p> + He pointed to a bunch of wild red berries on the mantel with the sun on + them. + </p> + <p> + “How beautifully they light up!” he said; “some of them + in the sunlight, some still in the shadow.” + </p> + <p> + He walked to the window and stood looking out on the somber fields. + </p> + <p> + “The lights and colors are always changing there,” he said. + “I never tire of it.” + </p> + <p> + To see him then so full of the interest and delight of the moment, one + might easily believe he had never known tragedy and shipwreck. More than + any one I ever knew, he lived in the present. Most of us are either + dreaming of the past or anticipating the future—forever beating the + dirge of yesterday or the tattoo of to-morrow. Mark Twain's step was timed + to the march of the moment. There were days when he recalled the past and + grieved over it, and when he speculated concerning the future; but his + greater interest was always of the now, and of the particular locality + where he found it. The thing which caught his fancy, however slight or + however important, possessed him fully for the time, even if never + afterward. + </p> + <p> + He was especially interested that winter in the Shakespeare-Bacon problem. + He had long been unable to believe that the actor-manager from Stratford + had written those great plays, and now a book just published, 'The + Shakespeare Problem Restated', by George Greenwood, and another one in + press, 'Some Characteristic Signatures of Francis Bacon', by William Stone + Booth, had added the last touch of conviction that Francis Bacon, and + Bacon only, had written the Shakespeare dramas. I was ardently opposed to + this idea. The romance of the boy, Will Shakespeare, who had come up to + London and began, by holding horses outside of the theater, and ended by + winning the proudest place in the world of letters, was something I did + not wish to let perish. I produced all the stock testimony—Ben + Jonson's sonnet, the internal evidence of the plays themselves, the actors + who had published them—but he refused to accept any of it. He + declared that there was not a single proof to show that Shakespeare had + written one of them. + </p> + <p> + “Is there any evidence that he didn't?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “There's evidence that he couldn't,” he said. “It + required a man with the fullest legal equipment to have written them. When + you have read Greenwood's book you will see how untenable is any argument + for Shakespeare's authorship.” + </p> + <p> + I was willing to concede something, and offered a compromise. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” I said, “Shakespeare was the Belasoo of that + day—the managerial genius, unable to write plays himself, but with + the supreme gift of making effective drama from the plays of others. In + that case it is not unlikely that the plays would be known as + Shakespeare's. Even in this day John Luther Long's 'Madam Butterfly' is + sometimes called Belasco's play; though it is doubtful if Belasco ever + wrote a line of it.” + </p> + <p> + He considered this view, but not very favorably. The Booth book was at + this time a secret, and he had not told me anything concerning it; but he + had it in his mind when he said, with an air of the greatest conviction: + </p> + <p> + “I know that Shakespeare did not write those plays, and I have + reason to believe he did not touch the text in any way.” + </p> + <p> + “How can you be so positive?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + He replied: + </p> + <p> + “I have private knowledge from a source that cannot be questioned.” + </p> + <p> + I now suspected that he was joking, and asked if he had been consulting a + spiritual medium; but he was clearly in earnest. + </p> + <p> + “It is the great discovery of the age,” he said, quite + seriously. “The world will soon ring with it. I wish I could tell + you about it, but I have passed my word. You will not have long to wait.” + </p> + <p> + I was going to sail for the Mediterranean in February, and I asked if it + would be likely that I would know this great secret before I sailed. He + thought not; but he said that more than likely the startling news would be + given to the world while I was on the water, and it might come to me on + the ship by wireless. I confess I was amazed and intensely curious by this + time. I conjectured the discovery of some document—some Bacon or + Shakespeare private paper which dispelled all the mystery of the + authorship. I hinted that he might write me a letter which I could open on + the ship; but he was firm in his refusal. He had passed his word, he + repeated, and the news might not be given out as soon as that; but he + assured me more than once that wherever I might be, in whatever remote + locality, it would come by cable, and the world would quake with it. I was + tempted to give up my trip, to be with him at Stormfield at the time of + the upheaval. + </p> + <p> + Naturally the Shakespeare theme was uppermost during the remaining days + that we were together. He had engaged another stenographer, and was now + dictating, forenoons, his own views on the subject—views coordinated + with those of Mr. Greenwood, whom he liberally quoted, but embellished and + decorated in his own gay manner. These were chapters for his + autobiography, he said, and I think he had then no intention of making a + book of them. I could not quite see why he should take all this + argumentary trouble if he had, as he said, positive evidence that Bacon, + and not Shakespeare, had written the plays. I thought the whole matter + very curious. + </p> + <p> + The Shakespeare interest had diverging by-paths. One evening, when we were + alone at dinner, he said: + </p> + <p> + “There is only one other illustrious man in history about whom there + is so little known,” and he added, “Jesus Christ.” + </p> + <p> + He reviewed the statements of the Gospels concerning Christ, though he + declared them to be mainly traditional and of no value. I agreed that they + contained confusing statements, and inflicted more or less with justice + and reason; but I said I thought there was truth in them, too. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you think so?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Because they contain matters that are self-evident—things + eternally and essentially just.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you make your own Bible?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, from those materials combined with human reason.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it does not matter where the truth, as you call it, comes + from?” + </p> + <p> + I admitted that the source did not matter; that truth from Shakespeare, + Epictetus, or Aristotle was quite as valuable as from the Scriptures. We + were on common ground now. He mentioned Marcus Aurelius, the Stoics, and + their blameless lives. I, still pursuing the thought of Jesus, asked: + </p> + <p> + “Do you not think it strange that in that day when Christ came, + admitting that there was a Christ, such a character could have come at all—in + the time of the Pharisees and the Sadducees, when all was ceremony and + unbelief?” + </p> + <p> + “I remember,” he said, “the Sadducees didn't believe in + hell. He brought them one.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor the resurrection. He brought them that, also.” + </p> + <p> + He did not admit that there had been a Christ with the character and + mission related by the Gospels. + </p> + <p> + “It is all a myth,” he said. “There have been Saviours + in every age of the world. It is all just a fairy tale, like the idea of + Santa Claus.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” I argued, “even the spirit of Christmas is real + when it is genuine. Suppose that we admit there was no physical Saviour—that + it is only an idea—a spiritual embodiment which humanity has made + for itself and is willing to improve upon as its own spirituality + improves, wouldn't that make it worthy?” + </p> + <p> + “But then the fairy story of the atonement dissolves, and with it + crumbles the very foundations of any established church. You can create + your own Testament, your own Scripture, and your own Christ, but you've + got to give up your atonement.” + </p> + <p> + “As related to the crucifixion, yes, and good riddance to it; but + the death of the old order and the growth of spirituality comes to a sort + of atonement, doesn't it?” + </p> + <p> + He said: + </p> + <p> + “A conclusion like that has about as much to do with the Gospels and + Christianity as Shakespeare had to do with Bacon's plays. You are + preaching a doctrine that would have sent a man to the stake a few + centuries ago. I have preached that in my own Gospel.” + </p> + <p> + I remembered then, and realized that, by my own clumsy ladder, I had + merely mounted from dogma, and superstition to his platform of training + the ideals to a higher contentment of soul. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0287" id="link2H_4_0287"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLXXVII. “IS SHAKESPEARE DEAD?” + </h2> + <p> + I set out on my long journey with much reluctance. However, a series of + guests with various diversions had been planned, and it seemed a good time + to go. Clemens gave me letters of introduction, and bade me Godspeed. It + would be near the end of April before I should see him again. + </p> + <p> + Now and then on the ship, and in the course of my travels, I remembered + the great news I was to hear concerning Shakespeare. In Cairo, at + Shepheard's, I looked eagerly through English newspapers, expecting any + moment to come upon great head-lines; but I was always disappointed. Even + on the return voyage there was no one I could find who had heard any + particular Shakespeare news. + </p> + <p> + Arriving in New York, I found that Clemens himself had published his + Shakespeare dictations in a little volume of his own, entitled, 'Is + Shakespeare Dead?' The title certainly suggested spiritistic matters, and + I got a volume at Harpers', and read it going up on the train, hoping to + find somewhere in it a solution of the great mystery. But it was only + matter I had already known; the secret was still unrevealed. + </p> + <p> + At Redding I lost not much time in getting up to Stormfield. There had + been changes in my absence. Clara Clemens had returned from her travels, + and Jean, whose health seemed improved, was coming home to be her father's + secretary. He was greatly pleased with these things, and declared he was + going to have a home once more with his children about him. + </p> + <p> + He was quite alone that day, and we walked up and down the great + living-room for an hour, perhaps, while he discussed his new plans. For + one thing, he had incorporated his pen-name, Mark Twain, in order that the + protection of his copyrights and the conduct of his literary business in + general should not require his personal attention. He seemed to find a + relief in this, as he always did in dismissing any kind of responsibility. + When we went in for billiards I spoke of his book, which I had read on the + way up, and of the great Shakespearian secret which was to astonish the + world. Then he told me that the matter had been delayed, but that he was + no longer required to suppress it; that the revelation was in the form of + a book—a book which revealed conclusively to any one who would take + the trouble to follow the directions that the acrostic name of Francis + Bacon in a great variety of forms ran through many—probably through + all of the so-called Shakespeare plays. He said it was far and away beyond + anything of the kind ever published; that Ignatius Donnelly and others had + merely glimpsed the truth, but that the author of this book, William Stone + Booth, had demonstrated, beyond any doubt or question, that the Bacon + signatures were there. The book would be issued in a few days, he said. He + had seen a set of proofs of it, and while it had not been published in the + best way to clearly demonstrate its great revelation, it must settle the + matter with every reasoning mind. He confessed that his faculties had been + more or less defeated in, attempting to follow the ciphers, and he + complained bitterly that the evidence had not been set forth so that he + who merely skims a book might grasp it. + </p> + <p> + He had failed on the acrostics at first; but more recently he had + understood the rule, and had been able to work out several Bacon + signatures. He complimented me by saying that he felt sure that when the + book came I would have no trouble with it. + </p> + <p> + Without going further with this matter, I may say here that the book + arrived presently, and between us we did work out a considerable number of + the claimed acrostics by following the rules laid down. It was certainly + an interesting if not wholly convincing occupation, and it would be a + difficult task for any one to prove that the ciphers are not there. Just + why this pretentious volume created so little agitation it would be hard + to say. Certainly it did not cause any great upheaval in the literary + world, and the name of William Shakespeare still continues to be printed + on the title-page of those marvelous dramas so long associated with his + name. + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain's own book on the subject—'Is Shakespeare Dead?'—found + a wide acceptance, and probably convinced as many readers. It contained no + new arguments; but it gave a convincing touch to the old ones, and it was + certainly readable.—[Mark Twain had the fullest conviction as to the + Bacon authorship of the Shakespeare plays. One evening, with Mr. Edward + Loomis, we attended a fine performance of “Romeo and Juliet” + given by Sothern and Marlowe. At the close of one splendid scene he said, + quite earnestly, “That is about the best play that Lord Bacon ever + wrote.”] + </p> + <p> + Among the visitors who had come to Stormfield was Howells. Clemens had + called a meeting of the Human Race Club, but only Howells was able to + attend. We will let him tell of his visit: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We got on very well without the absentees, after finding them in the + wrong, as usual, and the visit was like those I used to have with + him so many years before in Hartford, but there was not the old + ferment of subjects. Many things had been discussed and put away + for good, but we had our old fondness for nature and for each other, + who were so differently parts of it. He showed his absolute content + with his house, and that was the greater pleasure for me because it + was my son who designed it. The architect had been so fortunate as + to be able to plan it where a natural avenue of savins, the close- + knit, slender, cypress-like cedars of New England, led away from the + rear of the villa to the little level of a pergola, meant some day + to be wreathed and roofed with vines. But in the early spring days + all the landscape was in the beautiful nakedness of the Northern + winter. It opened in the surpassing loveliness of wooded and + meadowed uplands, under skies that were the first days blue, and the + last gray over a rainy and then a snowy floor. We walked up and + down, up and down, between the villa terrace and the pergola, and + talked with the melancholy amusement, the sad tolerance of age for + the sort of men and things that used to excite us or enrage us; now + we were far past turbulence or anger. Once we took a walk together + across the yellow pastures to a chasmal creek on his grounds, where + the ice still knit the clayey banks together like crystal mosses; + and the stream far down clashed through and over the stones and the + shards of ice. Clemens pointed out the scenery he had bought to + give himself elbowroom, and showed me the lot he was going to have + me build on. The next day we came again with the geologist he had + asked up to Stormfield to analyze its rocks. Truly he loved the + place.... + + My visit at Stormfield came to an end with tender relucting on his + part and on mine. Every morning before I dressed I heard him + sounding my name through the house for the fun of it and I know for + the fondness, and if I looked out of my door there he was in his + long nightgown swaying up and down the corridor, and wagging his + great white head like a boy that leaves his bed and comes out in the + hope of frolic with some one. The last morning a soft sugar-snow + had fallen and was falling, and I drove through it down to the + station in the carriage which had been given him by his wife's + father when they were first married, and had been kept all those + intervening years in honorable retirement for this final use.—[This + carriage—a finely built coup—had been presented to Mrs. Crane when + the Hartford house was closed. When Stormfield was built she + returned it to its original owner.]—Its springs had not grown + yielding with time, it had rather the stiffness and severity of age; + but for him it must have swung low like the sweet chariot of the + negro “spiritual” which I heard him sing with such fervor when those + wonderful hymns of the slaves began to make their way northward. +</pre> + <p> + Howells's visit resulted in a new inspiration. Clemens started to write + him one night when he could not sleep, and had been reading the volume of + letters of James Russell Lowell. Then, next morning, he was seized with + the notion of writing a series of letters to such friends as Howells, + Twichell, and Rogers—letters not to be mailed, but to be laid away + for some future public. He wrote two of these immediately—to Howells + and to Twichell. The Howells letter (or letters, for it was really double) + is both pathetic and amusing. The first part ran: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 3 in the morning, April 17, 1909. + + My pen has gone dry and the ink is out of reach. Howells, did you + write me day-before-day-before yesterday or did I dream it? In my + mind's eye I most vividly see your hand-write on a square blue + envelope in the mail-pile. I have hunted the house over, but there + is no such letter. Was it an illusion? + + I am reading Lowell's letters & smoking. I woke an hour ago & am + reading to keep from wasting the time. On page 305, Vol. I, I have + just margined a note: + + “Young friend! I like that! You ought to see him now.” + + It seemed startlingly strange to hear a person call you young. It + was a brick out of a blue sky, & knocked me groggy for a moment. Ah + me, the pathos of it is that we were young then. And he—why, so + was he, but he didn't know it. He didn't even know it 9 years + later, when we saw him approaching and you warned me, saying: + + “Don't say anything about age—he has just turned 50 & thinks he is + old, & broods over it.” + + Well, Clara did sing! And you wrote her a dear letter. + + Time to go to sleep. + + Yours ever, + MARK +</pre> + <p> + The second letter, begun at 10 A.M., outlines the plan by which he is to + write on the subject uppermost in his mind without restraint, knowing that + the letter is not to be mailed. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ...The scheme furnishes a definite target for each letter, & you + can choose the target that's going to be the most sympathetic for + what you are hungering & thirsting to say at that particular moment. + And you can talk with a quite unallowable frankness & freedom + because you are not going to send the letter. When you are on fire + with theology you'll not write it to Rogers, who wouldn't be an + inspiration; you'll write it to Twichell, because it will make him + writhe and squirm & break the furniture. When you are on fire with + a good thing that's indecent you won't waste it on Twichell; you'll + save it for Howells, who will love it. As he will never see it you + can make it really indecenter than he could stand; & so no harm is + done, yet a vast advantage is gained. +</pre> + <p> + The letter was not finished, and the scheme perished there. The Twichell + letter concerned missionaries, and added nothing to what he had already + said on the subject. + </p> + <p> + He wrote no letter to Mr. Rogers—perhaps never wrote to him again. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0288" id="link2H_4_0288"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLXXVIII. THE DEATH OF HENRY ROGERS + </h2> + <p> + Clemens, a little before my return, had been on a trip to Norfolk, + Virginia, to attend the opening ceremonies of the Virginia Railway. He had + made a speech on that occasion, in which he had paid a public tribute to + Henry Rogers, and told something of his personal obligation to the + financier. + </p> + <p> + He began by telling what Mr. Rogers had done for Helen Keller, whom he + called “the most marvelous person of her sex that has existed on + this earth since Joan of Arc.” Then he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + That is not all Mr. Rogers has done, but you never see that side of + his character because it is never protruding; but he lends a helping + hand daily out of that generous heart of his. You never hear of it. + He is supposed to be a moon which has one side dark and the other + bright. But the other side, though you don't see it, is not dark; + it is bright, and its rays penetrate, and others do see it who are + not God. + I would take this opportunity to tell something that I have never + been allowed to tell by Mr. Rogers, either by my mouth or in print, + and if I don't look at him I can tell it now. + + In 1894, when the publishing company of Charles L. Webster, of which + I was financial agent, failed, it left me heavily in debt. If you + will remember what commerce was at that time you will recall that + you could not sell anything, and could not buy anything, and I was + on my back; my books were not worth anything at all, and I could not + give away my copyrights. Mr. Rogers had long-enough vision ahead to + say, “Your books have supported you before, and after the panic is + over they will support you again,” and that was a correct + proposition. He saved my copyrights, and saved me from financial + ruin. He it was who arranged with my creditors to allow me to roam + the face of the earth and persecute the nations thereof with + lectures, promising at the end of four years I would pay dollar for + dollar. That arrangement was made, otherwise I would now be living + out-of-doors under an umbrella, and a borrowed one at that. + + You see his white mustache and his hair trying to get white (he is + always trying to look like me—I don't blame him for that). These + are only emblematic of his character, and that is all. I say, + without exception, hair and all, he is the whitest man I have ever + known. +</pre> + <p> + This had been early in April. Something more than a month later Clemens + was making a business trip to New York to see Mr. Rogers. I was telephoned + early to go up and look over some matters with him before he started. I do + not remember why I was not to go along that day, for I usually made such + trips with him. I think it was planned that Miss Clemens, who was in the + city, was to meet him at the Grand Central Station. At all events, she did + meet him there, with the news that during the night Mr. Rogers had + suddenly died. This was May 20, 1909. The news had already come to the + house, and I had lost no time in preparations to follow by the next train. + I joined him at the Grosvenor Hotel, on Fifth Avenue and Tenth Street. He + was upset and deeply troubled by the loss of his stanch adviser and + friend. He had a helpless look, and he said his friends were dying away + from him and leaving him adrift. + </p> + <p> + “And how I hate to do anything,” he added, “that + requires the least modicum of intelligence!” + </p> + <p> + We remained at the Grosvenor for Mr. Rogers's funeral. Clemens served as + one of the pall-bearers, but he did not feel equal to the trip to + Fairhaven. He wanted to be very quiet, he said. He could not undertake to + travel that distance among those whom he knew so well, and with whom he + must of necessity join in conversation; so we remained in the hotel + apartment, reading and saying very little until bedtime. Once he asked me + to write a letter to Jean: “Say, 'Your father says every little + while, “How glad I am that Jean is at home again!”' for that + is true and I think of it all the time.” + </p> + <p> + But by and by, after a long period of silence, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Rogers is under the ground now.” + </p> + <p> + And so passed out of earthly affairs the man who had contributed so + largely to the comfort of Mark Twain's old age. He was a man of fine + sensibilities and generous impulses; withal a keen sense of humor. + </p> + <p> + One Christmas, when he presented Mark Twain with a watch and a match-case, + he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MY DEAR CLEMENS,—For many years your friends have been complaining + of your use of tobacco, both as to quantity and quality. Complaints + are now coming in of your use of time. Most of your friends think + that you are using your supply somewhat lavishly, but the chief + complaint is in regard to the quality. + + I have been appealed to in the mean time, and have concluded that it + is impossible to get the right kind of time from a blacking-box. + + Therefore, I take the liberty of sending you herewith a machine that + will furnish only the best. Please use it with the kind wishes of + Yours truly, + H. H. ROGERS. + + P. S.—Complaint has also been made in regard to the furrows you + make in your trousers in scratching matches. You will find a furrow + on the bottom of the article inclosed. Please use it. Compliments + of the season to the family. +</pre> + <p> + He was a man too busy to write many letters, but when he did write (to + Clemens at least) they were always playful and unhurried. One reading them + would not find it easy to believe that the writer was a man on whose + shoulders lay the burdens of stupendous finance-burdens so heavy that at + last he was crushed beneath their weight. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0289" id="link2H_4_0289"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLXXIX. AN EXTENSION OF COPYRIGHT + </h2> + <p> + One of the pleasant things that came to Mark Twain that year was the + passage of a copyright bill, which added to the royalty period an + extension of fourteen years. Champ Clark had been largely instrumental in + the success of this measure, and had been fighting for it steadily since + Mark Twain's visit to Washington in 1906. Following that visit, Clark + wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ... It [the original bill] would never pass because the bill + had literature and music all mixed together. Being a Missourian of + course it would give me great pleasure to be of service to you. + What I want to say is this: you have prepared a simple bill relating + only to the copyright of books; send it to me and I will try to have + it passed. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens replied that he might have something more to say on the copyright + question by and by—that he had in hand a dialogue—[Similar to + the “Open Letter to the Register of Copyrights,” North + American Review, January, 1905.]—which would instruct Congress, but + this he did not complete. Meantime a simple bill was proposed and early in + 1909 it became a law. In June Clark wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DR. SAMUEL L. CLEMENS, + Stormfield, Redding, Conn. + + MY DEAR DOCTOR,—I am gradually becoming myself again, after a + period of exhaustion that almost approximated prostration. After a + long lecture tour last summer I went immediately into a hard + campaign; as soon as the election was over, and I had recovered my + disposition, I came here and went into those tariff hearings, which + began shortly after breakfast each day, and sometimes lasted until + midnight. Listening patiently and meekly, withal, to the lying of + tariff barons for many days and nights was followed by the work of + the long session; that was followed by a hot campaign to take Uncle + Joe's rules away from him; on the heels of that “Campaign that + Failed” came the tariff fight in the House. I am now getting time + to breathe regularly and I am writing to ask you if the copyright + law is acceptable to you. If it is not acceptable to you I want to + ask you to write and tell me how it should be changed and I will + give my best endeavors to the work. I believe that your ideas and + wishes in the matter constitute the best guide we have as to what + should be done in the case. + Your friend, + CHAMP CLARK. +</pre> + <p> + To this Clemens replied: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + STORMFIELD, REDDING, CONN, June 5, 1909. + + DEAR CHAMP CLARK,—Is the new copyright law acceptable to me? + Emphatically yes! Clark, it is the only sane & clearly defined & + just & righteous copyright law that has ever existed in the United + States. Whosoever will compare it with its predecessors will have + no trouble in arriving at that decision. + + The bill which was before the committee two years ago when I was + down there was the most stupefying jumble of conflicting & + apparently irreconcilable interests that was ever seen; and we all + said “the case is hopeless, absolutely hopeless—out of this chaos + nothing can be built.” But we were in error; out of that chaotic + mass this excellent bill has been constructed, the warring interests + have been reconciled, and the result is as comely and substantial a + legislative edifice as lifts its domes and towers and protective + lightning-rods out of the statute book I think. When I think of + that other bill, which even the Deity couldn't understand, and of + this one, which even I can understand, I take off my hat to the man + or men who devised this one. Was it R. U. Johnson? Was it the + Authors' League? Was it both together? I don't know, but I take + off my hat, anyway. Johnson has written a valuable article about + the new law—I inclose it. + + At last—at last and for the first time in copyright history—we are + ahead of England! Ahead of her in two ways: by length of time and + by fairness to all interests concerned. Does this sound like + shouting? Then I must modify it: all we possessed of copyright + justice before the 4th of last March we owed to England's + initiative. + Truly yours, + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens had prepared what was the final word an the subject of copyright + just before this bill was passed—a petition for a law which he + believed would regulate the whole matter. It was a generous, even if a + somewhat Utopian, plan, eminently characteristic of its author. The new + fourteen-year extension, with the prospect of more, made this or any other + compromise seem inadvisable.—[The reader may consider this last + copyright document by Mark Twain under Appendix N, at the end of this + volume.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0290" id="link2H_4_0290"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLXXX. A WARNING + </h2> + <p> + Clemens had promised to go to Baltimore for the graduation of “Francesca” + of his London visit in 1907—and to make a short address to her + class. + </p> + <p> + It was the eighth of June when we set out on this journey,—[The + reader may remember that it was the 8th of June, 1867, that Mark Twain + sailed for the Holy Land. It was the 8th of June, 1907, that he sailed for + England to take his Oxford degree. This 8th of June, 1909, was at least + slightly connected with both events, for he was keeping an engagement made + with Francesca in London, and my notes show that he discussed, on the way + to the station, some incidents of his Holy Land trip and his attitude at + that time toward Christian traditions. As he rarely mentioned the Quaker + City trip, the coincidence seems rather curious. It is most unlikely that + Clemens himself in any way associated the two dates.]—but the day + was rather bleak and there was a chilly rain. Clemens had a number of + errands to do in New York, and we drove from one place to another, + attending to them. Finally, in the afternoon, the rain ceased, and while I + was arranging some matters for him he concluded to take a ride on the top + of a Fifth Avenue stage. It was fine and pleasant when he started, but the + weather thickened again and when he returned he complained that he had + felt a little chilly. He seemed in fine condition, however, next morning + and was in good spirits all the way to Baltimore. Chauncey Depew was on + the train and they met in the dining-car—the last time, I think, + they ever saw each other. He was tired when we reached the Belvedere Hotel + in Baltimore and did not wish to see the newspaper men. It happened that + the reporters had a special purpose in coming just at this time, for it + had suddenly developed that in his Shakespeare book, through an oversight, + due to haste in publication, full credit had not been given to Mr. + Greenwood for the long extracts quoted from his work. The sensational + head-lines in a morning paper, “Is Mark Twain a Plagiarist?” + had naturally prompted the newspaper men to see what he would have to say + on the subject. It was a simple matter, easily explained, and Clemens + himself was less disturbed about it than anybody. He felt no sense of + guilt, he said; and the fact that he had been stealing and caught at it + would give Mr. Greenwood's book far more advertising than if he had given + him the full credit which he had intended. He found a good deal of + amusement in the situation, his only worry being that Clara and Jean would + see the paper and be troubled. + </p> + <p> + He had taken off his clothes and was lying down, reading. After a little + he got up and began walking up and down the room. Presently he stopped + and, facing me, placed his hand upon his breast. He said: + </p> + <p> + “I think I must have caught a little cold yesterday on that Fifth + Avenue stage. I have a curious pain in my breast.” + </p> + <p> + I suggested that he lie down again and I would fill his hot-water bag. The + pain passed away presently, and he seemed to be dozing. I stepped into the + next room and busied myself with some writing. By and by I heard him + stirring again and went in where he was. He was walking up and down and + began talking of some recent ethnological discoveries—something + relating to prehistoric man. + </p> + <p> + “What a fine boy that prehistoric man must have been,” he said—“the + very first one! Think of the gaudy style of him, how he must have lorded + it over those other creatures, walking on his hind legs, waving his arms, + practising and getting ready for the pulpit.” + </p> + <p> + The fancy amused him, but presently he paused in his walk and again put + his hand on his breast, saying: + </p> + <p> + “That pain has come back. It's a curious, sickening, deadly kind of + pain. I never had anything just like it.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed to me that his face had become rather gray. I said: + </p> + <p> + “Where is it, exactly, Mr. Clemens?” + </p> + <p> + He laid his hand in the center of his breast and said: + </p> + <p> + “It is here, and it is very peculiar indeed.” + </p> + <p> + Remotely in my mind occurred the thought that he had located his heart, + and the “peculiar deadly pain” he had mentioned seemed + ominous. I suggested, however, that it was probably some rheumatic touch, + and this opinion seemed warranted when, a few moments later, the hot water + had again relieved it. This time the pain had apparently gone to stay, for + it did not return while we were in Baltimore. It was the first positive + manifestation of the angina which eventually would take him from us. + </p> + <p> + The weather was pleasant in Baltimore, and his visit to St. Timothy's + School and his address there were the kind of diversions that meant most + to him. The flock of girls, all in their pretty commencement dresses, + assembled and rejoicing at his playfully given advice: not to smoke—to + excess; not to drink—to excess; not to marry—to excess; he + standing there in a garb as white as their own—it made a rare + picture—a sweet memory—and it was the last time he ever gave + advice from the platform to any one. + </p> + <p> + Edward S. Martin also spoke to the school, and then there was a great + feasting in the big assembly-hall. + </p> + <p> + It was on the lawn that a reporter approached him with the news of the + death of Edward Everett Hale—another of the old group. Clemens said + thoughtfully, after a moment: + </p> + <p> + “I had the greatest respect and esteem for Edward Everett Hale, the + greatest admiration for his work. I am as grieved to hear of his death as + I can ever be to hear of the death of any friend, though my grief is + always tempered with the satisfaction of knowing that for the one that + goes, the hard, bitter struggle of life is ended.” + </p> + <p> + We were leaving the Belvedere next morning, and when the subject of + breakfast came up for discussion he said: + </p> + <p> + “That was the most delicious Baltimore fried chicken we had + yesterday morning. I think we'll just repeat that order. It reminds me of + John Quarles's farm.” + </p> + <p> + We had been having our meals served in the rooms, but we had breakfast + that morning down in the diningroom, and “Francesca” and her + mother were there. + </p> + <p> + As he stood on the railway platform waiting for the train, he told me how + once, fifty-five years before, as a boy of eighteen, he had changed cars + there for Washington and had barely caught his train—the crowd + yelling at him as he ran. + </p> + <p> + We remained overnight in New York, and that evening, at the Grosvenor, he + read aloud a poem of his own which I had not seen before. He had brought + it along with some intention of reading it at St. Timothy's, he said, but + had not found the occasion suitable. + </p> + <p> + “I wrote it a long time ago in Paris. I'd been reading aloud to Mrs. + Clemens and Susy—in '93, I think—about Lord Clive and Warren + Hastings, from Macaulay—how great they were and how far they fell. + Then I took an imaginary case—that of some old demented man mumbling + of his former state. I described him, and repeated some of his mumblings. + Susy and Mrs. Clemens said, 'Write it'—so I did, by and by, and this + is it. I call it 'The Derelict.'” + </p> + <p> + He read in his effective manner that fine poem, the opening stanza of + which follows: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + You sneer, you ships that pass me by, + Your snow-pure canvas towering proud! + You traders base!—why, once such fry + Paid reverence, when like a cloud + Storm-swept I drove along, + My Admiral at post, his pennon blue + Faint in the wilderness of sky, my long + Yards bristling with my gallant crew, + My ports flung wide, my guns displayed, + My tall spars hid in bellying sail! + —You struck your topsails then, and made + Obeisance—now your manners fail. +</pre> + <p> + He had employed rhyme with more facility than was usual for him, and the + figure and phrasing were full of vigor. + </p> + <p> + “It is strong and fine,” I said, when he had finished. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he assented. “It seems so as I read it now. It is + so long since I have seen it that it is like reading another man's work. I + should call it good, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + He put the manuscript in his bag and walked up and down the floor talking. + </p> + <p> + “There is no figure for the human being like the ship,” he + said; “no such figure for the storm-beaten human drift as the + derelict—such men as Clive and Hastings could only be imagined as + derelicts adrift, helpless, tossed by every wind and tide.” + </p> + <p> + We returned to Redding next day. On the train going home he fell to + talking of books and authors, mainly of the things he had never been able + to read. + </p> + <p> + “When I take up one of Jane Austen's books,” he said, “such + as Pride and Prejudice, I feel like a barkeeper entering the kingdom of + heaven. I know, what his sensation would be and his private comments. He + would not find the place to his taste, and he would probably say so.” + </p> + <p> + He recalled again how Stepniak had come to Hartford, and how humiliated + Mrs. Clemens had been to confess that her husband was not familiar with + the writings of Thackeray and others. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know anything about anything,” he said, mournfully, + “and never did. My brother used to try to get me to read Dickens, + long ago. I couldn't do it—I was ashamed; but I couldn't do it. Yes, + I have read The Tale of Two Cities, and could do it again. I have read it + a good many times; but I never could stand Meredith and most of the other + celebrities.” + </p> + <p> + By and by he handed me the Saturday Times Review, saying: + </p> + <p> + “Here is a fine poem, a great poem, I think. I can stand that.” + </p> + <p> + It was “The Palatine (in the 'Dark Ages'),” by Willa Sibert + Cather, reprinted from McClure's. The reader will understand better than I + can express why these lofty opening stanzas appealed to Mark Twain: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THE PALATINE + + “Have you been with the King to Rome, + Brother, big brother?” + “I've been there and I've come home, + Back to your play, little brother.” + + “Oh, how high is Caesar's house, + Brother, big brother?” + “Goats about the doorways browse; + Night-hawks nest in the burnt roof-tree, + Home of the wild bird and home of the bee. + A thousand chambers of marble lie + Wide to the sun and the wind and the sky. + Poppies we find amongst our wheat + Grow on Caesar's banquet seat. + Cattle crop and neatherds drowse + On the floors of Caesar's house.” + + “But what has become of Caesar's gold, + Brother, big brother?” + “The times are bad and the world is old + —Who knows the where of the Caesar's gold? + Night comes black on the Caesar's hill; + The wells are deep and the tales are ill. + Fireflies gleam in the damp and mold, + All that is left of the Caesar's gold. + Back to your play, little brother.” + </pre> + <p> + Farther along in our journey he handed me the paper again, pointing to + these lines of Kipling: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + How is it not good for the Christian's health + To hurry the Aryan brown, + For the Christian riles and the Aryan smiles, + And he weareth the Christian down; + And the end of the fight is a tombstone white + And the name of the late deceased: + And the epitaph drear: “A fool lies here + Who tried to hustle the East.” + </pre> + <p> + “I could stand any amount of that,” he said, and presently: + “Life is too long and too short. Too long for the weariness of it; + too short for the work to be done. At the very most, the average mind can + only master a few languages and a little history.” + </p> + <p> + I said: “Still, we need not worry. If death ends all it does not + matter; and if life is eternal there will be time enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he assented, rather grimly, “that optimism of + yours is always ready to turn hell's back yard into a playground.” + </p> + <p> + I said that, old as I was, I had taken up the study of French, and + mentioned Bayard Taylor's having begun Greek at fifty, expecting to need + it in heaven. + </p> + <p> + Clemens said, reflectively: “Yes—but you see that was Greek.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0291" id="link2H_4_0291"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLXXXI. THE LAST SUMMER AT STORMFIELD + </h2> + <p> + I was at Stormfield pretty constantly during the rest of that year. At + first I went up only for the day; but later, when his health did not + improve, and when he expressed a wish for companionship evenings, I + remained most of the nights as well. Our rooms were separated only by a + bath-room; and as neither of us was much given to sleep, there was likely + to be talk or reading aloud at almost any hour when both were awake. In + the very early morning I would usually slip in, softly, sometimes to find + him propped up against his pillows sound asleep, his glasses on, the + reading-lamp blazing away as it usually did, day or night; but as often as + not he was awake, and would have some new plan or idea of which he was + eager to be delivered, and there was always interest, and nearly always + amusement in it, even if it happened to be three in the morning or + earlier. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes, when he thought it time for me to be stirring, he would call + softly, but loudly enough for me to hear if awake; and I would go in, and + we would settle again problems of life and death and science, or, rather, + he would settle them while I dropped in a remark here and there, merely to + hold the matter a little longer in solution. + </p> + <p> + The pains in his breast came back, and with a good deal of frequency as + the summer advanced; also, they became more severe. Dr. Edward Quintard + came up from New York, and did not hesitate to say that the trouble + proceeded chiefly from the heart, and counseled diminished smoking, with + less active exercise, advising particularly against Clemens's lifetime + habit of lightly skipping up and down stairs. + </p> + <p> + There was no prohibition as to billiards, however, or leisurely walking, + and we played pretty steadily through those peaceful summer days, and + often took a walk down into the meadows or perhaps in the other direction, + when it was not too warm or windy. Once we went as far as the river, and I + showed him a part of his land he had not seen before—a beautiful + cedar hillside, remote and secluded, a place of enchantment. On the way I + pointed out a little corner of land which earlier he had given me to + straighten our division line. I told him I was going to build a study on + it, and call it “Markland.” He thought it an admirable + building-site, and I think he was pleased with the name. Later he said: + </p> + <p> + “If you had a place for that extra billiard-table of mine [the + Rogers table, which had been left in New York] I would turn it over to + you.” + </p> + <p> + I replied that I could adapt the size of my proposed study to fit a + billiard-table, and he said: + </p> + <p> + “Now that will be very good. Then, when I want exercise, I can walk + down and play billiards with you, and when you want exercise you can walk + up and play billiards with me. You must build that study.” + </p> + <p> + So it was we planned, and by and by Mr. Lounsbury had undertaken the work. + </p> + <p> + During the walks Clemens rested a good deal. There were the New England + hills to climb, and then he found that he tired easily, and that weariness + sometimes brought on the pain. As I remember now, I think how bravely he + bore it. It must have been a deadly, sickening, numbing pain, for I have + seen it crumple him, and his face become colorless while his hand dug at + his breast; but he never complained, he never bewailed, and at billiards + he would persist in going on and playing in his turn, even while he was + bowed with the anguish of the attack. + </p> + <p> + We had found that a glass of very hot water relieved it, and we kept + always a thermos bottle or two filled and ready. At the first hint from + him I would pour out a glass and another, and sometimes the relief came + quickly; but there were times, and alas! they came oftener, when that + deadly gripping did not soon release him. Yet there would come a week or a + fortnight when he was apparently perfectly well, and at such times we + dismissed the thought of any heart malady, and attributed the whole + trouble to acute indigestion, from which he had always suffered more or + less. + </p> + <p> + We were alone together most of the time. He did not appear to care for + company that summer. Clara Clemens had a concert tour in prospect, and her + father, eager for her success, encouraged her to devote a large part of + her time to study. For Jean, who was in love with every form of outdoor + and animal life, he had established headquarters in a vacant farm-house on + one corner of the estate, where she had collected some stock and poultry, + and was over-flowingly happy. Ossip Gabrilowitsch was a guest in the house + a good portion of the summer, but had been invalided through severe + surgical operations, and for a long time rarely appeared, even at + meal-times. So it came about that there could hardly have been a closer + daily companionship than was ours during this the last year of Mark + Twain's life. For me, of course, nothing can ever be like it again in this + world. One is not likely to associate twice with a being from another + star. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0292" id="link2H_4_0292"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLXXXII. PERSONAL MEMORANDA + </h2> + <p> + In the notes I made of this period I caught a little drift of personality + and utterance, and I do not know better how to preserve these things than + to give them here as nearly as may be in the sequence and in the forth in + which they were set down. + </p> + <p> + One of the first of these entries occurs in June, when Clemens was + rereading with great interest and relish Andrew D. White's Science and + Theology, which he called a lovely book.—['A History of the Warfare + of Science with Theology in Christendom'.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + June 21. A peaceful afternoon, and we walked farther than usual, + resting at last in the shade of a tree in the lane that leads to + Jean's farm-house. I picked a dandelion-ball, with some remark + about its being one of the evidences of the intelligent principle in + nature—the seeds winged for a wider distribution. + + “Yes,” he said, “those are the great evidences; no one who reasons + can doubt them.” + + And presently he added: + + “That is a most amusing book of White's. When you read it you see + how those old theologians never reasoned at all. White tells of an + old bishop who figured out that God created the world in an instant + on a certain day in October exactly so many years before Christ, and + proved it. And I knew a preacher myself once who declared that the + fossils in the rocks proved nothing as to the age of the world. He + said that God could create the rocks with those fossils in them for + ornaments if He wanted to. Why, it takes twenty years to build a + little island in the Mississippi River, and that man actually + believed that God created the whole world and all that's in it in + six days. White tells of another bishop who gave two new reasons + for thunder; one being that God wanted to show the world His power, + and another that He wished to frighten sinners to repent. Now + consider the proportions of that conception, even in the pettiest + way you can think of it. Consider the idea of God thinking of all + that. Consider the President of the United States wanting to + impress the flies and fleas and mosquitoes, getting up on the dome + of the Capitol and beating a bass-drum and setting off red fire.” + </pre> + <p> + He followed the theme a little further, then we made our way slowly back + up the long hill, he holding to my arm, and resting here and there, but + arriving at the house seemingly fresh and ready for billiards. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + June 23. I came up this morning with a basket of strawberries. He + was walking up and down, looking like an ancient Roman. He said: + + “Consider the case of Elsie Sigel—[Granddaughter of Gen. Franz + Sigel. She was mysteriously murdered while engaged in settlement + work among the Chinese.]—what a ghastly ending to any life!” + + Then turning upon me fiercely, he continued: + + “Anybody that knows anything knows that there was not a single life + that was ever lived that was worth living. Not a single child ever + begotten that the begetting of it was not a crime. Suppose a + community of people to be living on the slope of a volcano, directly + under the crater and in the path of lava-flow; that volcano has been + breaking out right along for ages and is certain to break out again. + They do not know when it will break out, but they know it will do + it—that much can be counted on. Suppose those people go to a + community in a far neighborhood and say, 'We'd like to change places + with you. Come take our homes and let us have yours.' Those people + would say, 'Never mind, we are not interested in your country. We + know what has happened there, and what will happen again.' We don't + care to live under the blow that is likely to fall at any moment; + and yet every time we bring a child into the world we are bringing + it to a country, to a community gathered under the crater of a + volcano, knowing that sooner or later death will come, and that + before death there will be catastrophes infinitely worse. Formerly + it was much worse than now, for before the ministers abolished hell + a man knew, when he was begetting a child, that he was begetting a + soul that had only one chance in a hundred of escaping the eternal + fires of damnation. He knew that in all probability that child + would be brought to damnation—one of the ninety-nine black sheep. + But since hell has been abolished death has become more welcome. + I wrote a fairy story once. It was published somewhere. I don't + remember just what it was now, but the substance of it was that a + fairy gave a man the customary wishes. I was interested in seeing + what he would take. First he chose wealth and went away with it, + but it did not bring him happiness. Then he came back for the + second selection, and chose fame, and that did not bring happiness + either. Finally he went to the fairy and chose death, and the fairy + said, in substance, 'If you hadn't been a fool you'd have chosen + that in the first place.' + + “The papers called me a pessimist for writing that story. + Pessimist—the man who isn't a pessimist is a d—-d fool.” + </pre> + <p> + But this was one of his savage humors, stirred by tragic circumstance. + Under date of July 5th I find this happier entry: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We have invented a new game, three-ball carom billiards, each player + continuing until he has made five, counting the number of his shots + as in golf, the one who finishes in the fewer shots wins. It is a + game we play with almost exactly equal skill, and he is highly + pleased with it. He said this afternoon: + + “I have never enjoyed billiards as I do now. I look forward to it + every afternoon as my reward at the end of a good day's work.”—[His + work at this time was an article on Marjorie Fleming, the “wonder + child,” whose quaint writings and brief little life had been + published to the world by Dr. John Brown. Clemens always adored the + thought of Marjorie, and in this article one can see that she ranked + almost next to Joan of Arc in his affections.] +</pre> + <p> + We went out in the loggia by and by and Clemens read aloud from a book + which Professor Zubelin left here a few days ago—'The Religion of a + Democrat'. Something in it must have suggested to Clemens his favorite + science, for presently he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I have been reading an old astronomy; it speaks of the perfect line + of curvature of the earth in spite of mountains and abysses, and I + have imagined a man three hundred thousand miles high picking up a + ball like the earth and looking at it and holding it in his hand. + It would be about like a billiard-ball to him, and he would turn it + over in his hand and rub it with his thumb, and where he rubbed over + the mountain ranges he might say, 'There seems to be some slight + roughness here, but I can't detect it with my eye; it seems + perfectly smooth to look at.' The Himalayas to him, the highest + peak, would be one-sixty-thousandth of his height, or about the one- + thousandth part of an inch as compared with the average man.” + </pre> + <p> + I spoke of having somewhere read of some very tiny satellites, one as + small, perhaps, as six miles in diameter, yet a genuine world. + </p> + <p> + “Could a man live on a world so small as that?” I asked. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Oh yes,” he said. “The gravitation that holds it together would + hold him on, and he would always seem upright, the same as here. + His horizon would be smaller, but even if he were six feet tall he + would only have one foot for each mile of that world's diameter, so + you see he would be little enough, even for a world that he could + walk around in half a day.” + </pre> + <p> + He talked astronomy a great deal—marvel astronomy. He had no real + knowledge of the subject, and I had none of any kind, which made its + ungraspable facts all the more thrilling. He was always thrown into a sort + of ecstasy by the unthinkable distances of space—the supreme drama + of the universe. The fact that Alpha Centauri was twenty-five trillions of + miles away—two hundred and fifty thousand times the distance of our + own remote sun, and that our solar system was traveling, as a whole, + toward the bright star Vega, in the constellation of Lyra, at the rate of + forty-four miles a second, yet would be thousands upon thousands of years + reaching its destination, fairly enraptured him. + </p> + <p> + The astronomical light-year—that is to say, the distance which light + travels in a year—was one of the things which he loved to + contemplate; but he declared that no two authorities ever figured it + alike, and that he was going to figure it for himself. I came in one + morning, to find that he had covered several sheets of paper with almost + interminable rows of ciphers, and with a result, to him at least, entirely + satisfactory. I am quite certain that he was prouder of those figures and + their enormous aggregate than if he had just completed an immortal tale; + and when he added that the nearest fixed star—Alpha Centauri—was + between four and five light-years distant from the earth, and that there + was no possible way to think that distance in miles or even any calculable + fraction of it, his glasses shone and his hair was roached up as with the + stimulation of these stupendous facts. + </p> + <p> + By and by he said: + </p> + <p> + “I came in with Halley's comet in 1835. It is coming again next + year, and I expect to go out with it. It will be the greatest + disappointment of my life if I don't go out with Halley's comet. The + Almighty has said, no doubt: 'Now here are these two unaccountable freaks; + they came in together, they must go out together.' Oh! I am looking + forward to that.” And a little later he added: + </p> + <p> + “I've got some kind of a heart disease, and Quintard won't tell me + whether it is the kind that carries a man off in an instant or keeps him + lingering along and suffering for twenty years or so. I was in hopes that + Quintard would tell me that I was likely to drop dead any minute; but he + didn't. He only told me that my blood-pressure was too strong. He didn't + give me any schedule; but I expect to go with Halley's comet.” + </p> + <p> + I seem to have omitted making any entries for a few days; but among his + notes I find this entry, which seems to refer to some discussion of a + favorite philosophy, and has a special interest of its own: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + July 14, 1909. Yesterday's dispute resumed, I still maintaining + that, whereas we can think, we generally don't do it. Don't do it, + & don't have to do it: we are automatic machines which act + unconsciously. From morning till sleeping-time, all day long. All + day long our machinery is doing things from habit & instinct, & + without requiring any help or attention from our poor little 7-by-9 + thinking apparatus. This reminded me of something: thirty years + ago, in Hartford, the billiard-room was my study, & I wrote my + letters there the first thing every morning. My table lay two + points off the starboard bow of the billiard-table, & the door of + exit and entrance bore northeast&-by-east-half-east from that + position, consequently you could see the door across the length of + the billiard-table, but you couldn't see the floor by the said + table. I found I was always forgetting to ask intruders to carry my + letters down-stairs for the mail, so I concluded to lay them on the + floor by the door; then the intruder would have to walk over them, & + that would indicate to him what they were there for. Did it? No, + it didn't. He was a machine, & had habits. Habits take precedence + of thought. + + Now consider this: a stamped & addressed letter lying on the floor + —lying aggressively & conspicuously on the floor—is an unusual + spectacle; so unusual a spectacle that you would think an intruder + couldn't see it there without immediately divining that it was not + there by accident, but had been deliberately placed there & for a + definite purpose. Very well—it may surprise you to learn that that + most simple & most natural & obvious thought would never occur to + any intruder on this planet, whether he be fool, half-fool, or the + most brilliant of thinkers. For he is always an automatic machine & + has habits, & his habits will act before his thinking apparatus can + get a chance to exert its powers. My scheme failed because every + human being has the habit of picking up any apparently misplaced + thing & placing it where it won't be stepped on. + + My first intruder was George. He went and came without saying + anything. Presently I found the letters neatly piled up on the + billiard-table. I was astonished. I put them on the floor again. + The next intruder piled them on the billiard-table without a word. + I was profoundly moved, profoundly interested. So I set the trap + again. Also again, & again, & yet again—all day long. I caught + every member of the family, & every servant; also I caught the three + finest intellects in the town. In every instance old, time-worn + automatic habit got in its work so promptly that the thinking + apparatus never got a chance. +</pre> + <p> + I do not remember this particular discussion, but I do distinctly recall + being one of those whose intelligence was not sufficient to prevent my + picking up the letter he had thrown on the floor in front of his bed, and + being properly classified for doing it. + </p> + <p> + Clemens no longer kept note-books, as in an earlier time, but set down + innumerable memoranda-comments, stray reminders, and the like—on + small pads, and bunches of these tiny sheets accumulated on his table and + about his room. I gathered up many of them then and afterward, and a few + of these characteristic bits may be offered here. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + KNEE +</pre> + <p> + It is at our mother's knee that we acquire our noblest & truest & + highest ideals, but there is seldom any money in them. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + JEHOVAH +</pre> + <p> + He is all-good. He made man for hell or hell for man, one or the other—take + your choice. He made it hard to get into heaven and easy to get into hell. + He commended man to multiply & replenish-what? Hell. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MODESTY ANTEDATES CLOTHES +</pre> + <p> + & will be resumed when clothes are no more. [The latter part of this + aphorism is erased and underneath it he adds:] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MODESTY DIED +</pre> + <p> + when clothes were born. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MODESTY DIED +when false modesty was born. + + HISTORY +</pre> + <p> + A historian who would convey the truth has got to lie. Often he must + enlarge the truth by diameters, otherwise his reader would not be able to + see it. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MORALS +</pre> + <p> + are not the important thing—nor enlightenment—nor + civilization. A man can do absolutely well without them, but he can't do + without something to eat. The supremest thing is the needs of the body, + not of the mind & spirit. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SUGGESTION +</pre> + <p> + There is conscious suggestion & there is unconscious suggestion—both + come from outside—whence all ideas come. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DUELS +</pre> + <p> + I think I could wipe out a dishonor by crippling the other man, but I + don't see how I could do it by letting him cripple me. + </p> + <p> + I have no feeling of animosity toward people who do not believe as I do; I + merely do not respect 'em. In some serious matters (relig.) I would have + them burnt. + </p> + <p> + I am old now and once was a sinner. I often think of it with a kind of + soft regret. I trust my days are numbered. I would not have that detail + overlooked. + </p> + <p> + She was always a girl, she was always young because her heart was young; + & I was young because she lived in my heart & preserved its youth + from decay. + </p> + <p> + He often busied himself working out more extensively some of the ideas + that came to him—moral ideas, he called them. One fancy which he + followed in several forms (some of them not within the privilege of print) + was that of an inquisitive little girl, Bessie, who pursues her mother + with difficult questionings.—[Under Appendix w, at the end of this + volume, the reader will find one of the “Bessie” dialogues.]—He + read these aloud as he finished them, and it is certain that they lacked + neither logic nor humor. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes he went to a big drawer in his dresser, where he kept his + finished manuscripts, and took them out and looked over them, and read + parts of them aloud, and talked of the plans he had had for them, and how + one idea after another had been followed for a time and had failed to + satisfy him in the end. + </p> + <p> + Two fiction schemes that had always possessed him he had been unable to + bring to any conclusion. Both of these have been mentioned in former + chapters; one being the notion of a long period of dream-existence during + a brief moment of sleep, and the other being the story of a mysterious + visitant from another realm. He had experimented with each of these ideas + in no less than three forms, and there was fine writing and dramatic + narrative in all; but his literary architecture had somehow fallen short + of his conception. “The Mysterious Stranger” in one of its + forms I thought might be satisfactorily concluded, and he admitted that he + could probably end it without much labor. He discussed something of his + plans, and later I found the notes for its conclusion. But I suppose he + was beyond the place where he could take up those old threads, though he + contemplated, fondly enough, the possibility, and recalled how he had read + at least one form of the dream tale to Howells, who had urged him to + complete it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0293" id="link2H_4_0293"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLXXXIII. ASTRONOMY AND DREAMS + </h2> + <p> + August 5, 1909. This morning I noticed on a chair a copy of Flaubert's + Salammbo which I recently lent him. I asked if he liked it. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, “I didn't like any of it.” + </p> + <p> + “But you read it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I read every line of it.” + </p> + <p> + “You admitted its literary art?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's like this: If I should go to the Chicago stockyards and + they should kill a beef and cut it up and the blood should splash all over + everything, and then they should take me to another pen and kill another + beef and the blood should splash over everything again, and so on to pen + after pen, I should care for it about as much as I do for that book.” + </p> + <p> + “But those were bloody days, and you care very much for that period + in history.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that is so. But when I read Tacitus and know that I am reading + history I can accept it as such and supply the imaginary details and enjoy + it, but this thing is such a continuous procession of blood and slaughter + and stench it worries me. It has great art—I can see that. That + scene of the crucified lions and the death canon and the tent scene are + marvelous, but I wouldn't read that book again without a salary.” + </p> + <p> + August 16. He is reading Suetonius, which he already knows by heart—so + full of the cruelties and licentiousness of imperial Rome. + </p> + <p> + This afternoon he began talking about Claudius. + </p> + <p> + “They called Claudius a lunatic,” he said, “but just see + what nice fancies he had. He would go to the arena between times and have + captives and wild beasts brought out and turned in together for his + special enjoyment. Sometimes when there were no captives on hand he would + say, 'Well, never mind; bring out a carpenter.' Carpentering around the + arena wasn't a popular job in those days. He went visiting once to a + province and thought it would be pleasant to see how they disposed of + criminals and captives in their crude, old-fashioned way, but there was no + executioner on hand. No matter; the Emperor of Rome was in no hurry—he + would wait. So he sat down and stayed there until an executioner came.” + </p> + <p> + I said, “How do you account for the changed attitude toward these + things? We are filled with pity to-day at the thought of torture and + suffering.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! but that is because we have drifted that way and exercised the + quality of compassion. Relax a muscle and it soon loses its vigor; relax + that quality and in two generations—in one generation—we + should be gloating over the spectacle of blood and torture just the same. + Why, I read somewhere a letter written just before the Lisbon catastrophe + in 1755 about a scene on the public square of Lisbon: A lot of stakes with + the fagots piled for burning and heretics chained for burning. The square + was crowded with men and women and children, and when those fires were + lighted, and the heretics began to shriek and writhe, those men and women + and children laughed so they were fairly beside themselves with the + enjoyment of the scene. The Greeks don't seem to have done these things. I + suppose that indicates earlier advancement in compassion.” + </p> + <p> + Colonel Harvey and Mr. Duneka came up to spend the night. Mr. Clemens had + one of his seizures during the evening. They come oftener and last longer. + One last night continued for an hour and a half. I slept there. + </p> + <p> + September 7. To-day news of the North Pole discovered by Peary. Five days + ago the same discovery was reported by Cook. Clemens's comment: “It's + the greatest joke of the ages.” But a moment later he referred to + the stupendous fact of Arcturus being fifty thousand times as big as the + sun. + </p> + <p> + September 21. This morning he told me, with great glee, the dream he had + had just before wakening. He said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I was in an automobile going slowly, with 'a little girl beside me, + and some uniformed person walking along by us. I said, 'I'll get + out and walk, too'; but the officer replied, 'This is only one of + the smallest of our fleet.' + + “Then I noticed that the automobile had no front, and there were two + cannons mounted where the front should be. I noticed, too, that we + were traveling very low, almost down on the ground. Presently we + got to the bottom of a hill and started up another, and I found + myself walking ahead of the 'mobile. I turned around to look for + the little girl, and instead of her I found a kitten capering beside + me, and when we reached the top of the hill we were looking out over + a most barren and desolate waste of sand-heaps without a speck of + vegetation anywhere, and the kitten said, 'This view beggars all + admiration.' Then all at once we were in a great group of people + and I undertook to repeat to them the kitten's remark, but when I + tried to do it the words were so touching that I broke down and + cried, and all the group cried, too, over the kitten's moving + remark.” + + The joy with which he told this absurd sleep fancy made it supremely + ridiculous and we laughed until tears really came. +</pre> + <p> + One morning he said: “I was awake a good deal in the night, and I + tried to think of interesting things. I got to working out geological + periods, trying to think of some way to comprehend them, and then + astronomical periods. Of course it's impossible, but I thought of a plan + that seemed to mean something to me. I remembered that Neptune is two + billion eight hundred million miles away. That, of course, is + incomprehensible, but then there is the nearest fixed star with its + twenty-five trillion miles—twenty-five trillion—or nearly a + thousand times as far, and then I took this book and counted the lines on + a page and I found that there was an average of thirty-two lines to the + page and two hundred and forty pages, and I figured out that, counting the + distance to Neptune as one line, there were still not enough lines in the + book by nearly two thousand to reach the nearest fixed star, and somehow + that gave me a sort of dim idea of the vastness of the distance and kind + of a journey into space.” + </p> + <p> + Later I figured out another method of comprehending a little of that great + distance by estimating the existence of the human race at thirty thousand + years (Lord Kelvin's figures) and the average generation to have been + thirty-three years with a world population of 1,500,000,000 souls. I + assumed the nearest fixed star to be the first station in Paradise and the + first soul to have started thirty thousand years ago. Traveling at the + rate of about thirty miles a second, it would just now be arriving in + Alpha Centauri with all the rest of that buried multitude stringing out + behind at an average distance of twenty miles apart. + </p> + <p> + Few things gave him more pleasure than the contemplation of such figures + as these. We made occasional business trips to New York, and during one of + them visited the Museum of Natural History to look at the brontosaur and + the meteorites and the astronomical model in the entrance hall. To him + these were the most fascinating things in the world. He contemplated the + meteorites and the brontosaur, and lost himself in strange and marvelous + imaginings concerning the far reaches of time and space whence they had + come down to us. + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain lived curiously apart from the actualities of life. Dwelling + mainly among his philosophies and speculations, he observed vaguely, or + minutely, what went on about him; but in either case the fact took a + place, not in the actual world, but in a world within his consciousness, + or subconsciousness, a place where facts were likely to assume new and + altogether different relations from those they had borne in the physical + occurrence. It not infrequently happened, therefore, when he recounted + some incident, even the most recent, that history took on fresh and + startling forms. More than once I have known him to relate an occurrence + of the day before with a reality of circumstance that carried absolute + conviction, when the details themselves were precisely reversed. If his + attention were called to the discrepancy, his face would take on a blank + look, as of one suddenly aroused from dreamland, to be followed by an + almost childish interest in your revelation and ready acknowledgment of + his mistake. I do not think such mistakes humiliated him; but they often + surprised and, I think, amused him. + </p> + <p> + Insubstantial and deceptive as was this inner world of his, to him it must + have been much more real than the world of flitting physical shapes about + him. He would fix you keenly with his attention, but you realized, at + last, that he was placing you and seeing you not as a part of the material + landscape, but as an item of his own inner world—a world in which + philosophies and morals stood upright—a very good world indeed, but + certainly a topsy-turvy world when viewed with the eye of mere literal + scrutiny. And this was, mainly, of course, because the routine of life did + not appeal to him. Even members of his household did not always stir his + consciousness. + </p> + <p> + He knew they were there; he could call them by name; he relied upon them; + but his knowledge of them always suggested the knowledge that Mount + Everest might have of the forests and caves and boulders upon its slopes, + useful, perhaps, but hardly necessary to the giant's existence, and in no + important matter a part of its greater life. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0294" id="link2H_4_0294"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLXXXIV. A LIBRARY CONCERT + </h2> + <p> + In a letter which Clemens wrote to Miss Wallace at this time, he tells of + a concert given at Stormfield on September 21st for the benefit of the new + Redding Library. Gabrilowitsch had so far recovered that he was up and + about and able to play. David Bispham, the great barytone, always genial + and generous, agreed to take part, and Clara Clemens, already accustomed + to public singing, was to join in the program. The letter to Miss Wallace + supplies the rest of the history. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We had a grand time here yesterday. Concert in aid of the little + library. + + TEAM + + Gabrilowitsch, pianist. + David Bispham, vocalist. + Clara Clemens, ditto. + Mark Twain, introduces of team. + + Detachments and squads and groups and singles came from everywhere + —Danbury, New Haven, Norwalk, Redding, Redding Ridge, Ridgefield, + and even from New York: some in 60-h.p. motor-cars, some in + buggies and carriages, and a swarm of farmer-young-folk on foot + from miles around—525 altogether. + + If we hadn't stopped the sale of tickets a day and a half before the + performance we should have been swamped. We jammed 160 into the + library (not quite all had seats), we filled the loggia, the dining- + room, the hall, clear into the billiard-room, the stairs, and the + brick-paved square outside the dining-room door. + + The artists were received with a great welcome, and it woke them up, + and I tell you they performed to the Queen's taste! The program was + an hour and three-quarters long and the encores added a half-hour to + it. The enthusiasm of the house was hair-lifting. They all stayed + an hour after the close to shake hands and congratulate. + + We had no dollar seats except in the library, but we accumulated + $372 for the Building Fund. We had tea at half past six for a + dozen—the Hawthornes, Jeannette Gilder, and her niece, etc.; and + after 8-o'clock dinner we had a private concert and a ball in the + bare-stripped library until 10; nobody present but the team and Mr. + and Mrs. Paine and Jean and her dog. And me. Bispham did “Danny + Deever” and the “Erlkonig” in his majestic, great organ-tones and + artillery, and Gabrilowitsch played the accompaniments as they were + never played before, I do suppose. +</pre> + <p> + There is not much to add to that account. Clemens, introducing the + performers, was the gay feature of the occasion. He spoke of the great + reputation of Bispham and Gabrilowitsch; then he said: + </p> + <p> + “My daughter is not as famous as these gentlemen, but she is ever so + much better-looking.” + </p> + <p> + The music of the evening that followed, with Gabrilowitsch at the piano + and David Bispham to sing, was something not likely ever to be repeated. + Bispham sang the “Erlkonig” and “Killiecrankie” + and the “Grenadiers” and several other songs. He spoke of + having sung Wagner's arrangement of the “Grenadiers” at the + composer's home following his death, and how none of the family had heard + it before. + </p> + <p> + There followed dancing, and Jean Clemens, fine and handsome, apparently + full of life and health, danced down that great living-room as care-free + as if there was no shadow upon her life. And the evening was distinguished + in another way, for before it ended Clara Clemens had promised Ossip + Gabrilowitsch to become his wife. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0295" id="link2H_4_0295"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLXXXV. A WEDDING AT STORMFIELD + </h2> + <p> + The wedding of Ossip Gabrilowitsch and Clara Clemens was not delayed. + Gabrilowitsch had signed for a concert tour in Europe, and unless the + marriage took place forthwith it must be postponed many months. It + followed, therefore, fifteen days after the engagement. They were busy + days. Clemens, enormously excited and pleased over the prospect of the + first wedding in his family, personally attended to the selection of those + who were to have announcement-cards, employing a stenographer to make the + list. + </p> + <p> + October 6th was a perfect wedding-day. It was one of those quiet, lovely + fall days when the whole world seems at peace. Claude, the butler, with + his usual skill in such matters, had decorated the great living-room with + gay autumn foliage and flowers, brought in mainly from the woods and + fields. They blended perfectly with the warm tones of the walls and + furnishings, and I do not remember ever having seen a more beautiful room. + Only relatives and a few of the nearest friends were invited to the + ceremony. The Twichells came over a day ahead, for Twichell, who had + assisted in the marriage rites between Samuel Clemens and Olivia Langdon, + was to perform that ceremony for their daughter now. A fellow-student of + the bride and groom when they had been pupils of Leschetizky, in Vienna—Miss + Ethel Newcomb—was at the piano and played softly the Wedding March + from “Taunhauser.” Jean Clemens was the only bridesmaid, and + she was stately and classically beautiful, with a proud dignity in her + office. Jervis Langdon, the bride's cousin and childhood playmate, acted + as best man, and Clemens, of course, gave the bride away. By request he + wore his scarlet Oxford gown over his snowy flannels, and was splendid + beyond words. I do not write of the appearance of the bride and groom, for + brides and grooms are always handsome and always happy, and certainly + these were no exception. It was all so soon over, the feasting ended, and + the principals whirling away into the future. I have a picture in my mind + of them seated together in the automobile, with Richard Watson Gilder + standing on the step for a last good-by, and before them a wide expanse of + autumn foliage and distant hills. I remember Gilder's voice saying, when + the car was on the turn, and they were waving back to us: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Over the hills and far away, + Beyond the utmost purple rim, + Beyond the night, beyond the day, + Through all the world she followed him.” + </pre> + <p> + The matter of the wedding had been kept from the newspapers until the eve + of the wedding, when the Associated Press had been notified. A + representative was there; but Clemens had characteristically interviewed + himself on the subject, and it was only necessary to hand the reporter a + typewritten copy. Replying to the question (put to himself), “Are + you pleased with the marriage?” he answered: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yes, fully as much as any marriage could please me or any other + father. There are two or three solemn things in life and a happy + marriage is one of them, for the terrors of life are all to come. + I am glad of this marriage, and Mrs. Clemens would be glad, for she + always had a warm affection for Gabrilowitsch. +</pre> + <p> + There was another wedding at Stormfield on the following afternoon—an + imitation wedding. Little Joy came up with me, and wished she could stand + in just the spot where she had seen the bride stand, and she expressed a + wish that she could get married like that. Clemens said: + </p> + <p> + “Frankness is a jewel; only the young can afford it.” + </p> + <p> + Then he happened to remember a ridiculous boy-doll—a white-haired + creature with red coat and green trousers, a souvenir imitation of himself + from one of the Rogerses' Christmas trees. He knew where it was, and he + got it out. Then he said: + </p> + <p> + “Now, Joy, we will have another wedding. This is Mr. Colonel + Williams, and you are to become his wedded wife.” + </p> + <p> + So Joy stood up very gravely and Clemens performed the ceremony, and I + gave the bride away, and Joy to him became Mrs. Colonel Williams + thereafter, and entered happily into her new estate. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0296" id="link2H_4_0296"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLXXXVI. AUTUMN DAYS + </h2> + <p> + A harvest of letters followed the wedding: a general congratulatory + expression, mingled with admiration, affection, and good-will. In his + interview Clemens had referred to the pain in his breast; and many begged + him to deny that there was anything serious the matter with him, urging + him to try this relief or that, pathetically eager for his continued life + and health. They cited the comfort he had brought to world-weary humanity + and his unfailing stand for human justice as reasons why he should live. + Such letters could not fail to cheer him. + </p> + <p> + A letter of this period, from John Bigelow, gave him a pleasure of its + own. Clemens had written Bigelow, apropos of some adverse expression on + the tariff: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Thank you for any hard word you can say about the tariff. I guess + the government that robs its own people earns the future it is + preparing for itself. +</pre> + <p> + Bigelow was just then declining an invitation to the annual dinner of the + Chamber of Commerce. In sending his regrets he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The sentiment I would propose if I dared to be present would be the + words of Mark Twain, the statesman: + + “The government that robs its own people earns the future it is + preparing for itself.” + </pre> + <p> + Now to Clemens himself he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Rochefoucault never said a cleverer thing, nor Dr. Franklin a wiser + one.... Be careful, or the Demos will be running you for + President when you are not on your guard. + + Yours more than ever, + JOHN BIGELOW. +</pre> + <p> + Among the tributes that came, was a sermon by the Rev. Fred Window Adams, + of Schenectady, New York, with Mark Twain as its subject. Mr. Adams chose + for his text, “Take Mark and bring him with thee; for he is + profitable for the ministry,” and he placed the two Marks, St. Mark + and Mark Twain, side by side as ministers to humanity, and characterized + him as “a fearless knight of righteousness.” A few weeks later + Mr. Adams himself came to Stormfield, and, like all open-minded ministers + of the Gospel, he found that he could get on very well indeed with Mark + Twain. + </p> + <p> + In spite of the good-will and the good wishes Clemens's malady did not + improve. As the days grew chillier he found that he must remain closer + indoors. The cold air seemed to bring on the pains, and they were + gradually becoming more severe; then, too, he did not follow the doctor's + orders in the matter of smoking, nor altogether as to exercise. + </p> + <p> + To Miss Wallace he wrote: + </p> + <p> + I can't walk, I can't drive, I'm not down-stairs much, and I don't see + company, but I drink barrels of water to keep the pain quiet; I read, and + read, and read, and smoke, and smoke, and smoke all the time (as + formerly), and it's a contented and comfortable life. + </p> + <p> + But this was not altogether accurate as to details. He did come + down-stairs many times daily, and he persisted in billiards regardless of + the paroxysms. We found, too, that the seizures were induced by mental + agitation. One night he read aloud to Jean and myself the first chapter of + an article, “The Turning-Point in My Life,” which he was + preparing for Harper's Bazar. He had begun it with one of his impossible + burlesque fancies, and he felt our attitude of disappointment even before + any word had been said. Suddenly he rose, and laying his hand on his + breast said, “I must lie down,” and started toward the stair. + I supported him to his room and hurriedly poured out the hot water. He + drank it and dropped back on the bed. + </p> + <p> + “Don't speak to me,” he said; “don't make me talk.” + </p> + <p> + Jean came in, and we sat there several moments in silence. I think we both + wondered if this might not be the end; but presently he spoke of his own + accord, declaring he was better, and ready for billiards. + </p> + <p> + We played for at least an hour afterward, and he seemed no worse for the + attack. It is a curious malady—that angina; even the doctors are + acquainted with its manifestations, rather than its cause. Clemens's + general habits of body and mind were probably not such as to delay its + progress; furthermore, there had befallen him that year one of those + misfortunes which his confiding nature peculiarly invited—a betrayal + of trust by those in whom it had been boundlessly placed—and it + seems likely that the resulting humiliation aggravated his complaint. The + writing of a detailed history of this episode afforded him occupation and + a certain amusement, but probably did not contribute to his health. One + day he sent for his attorney, Mr. Charles T. Lark, and made some final + revisions in his will.—[Mark Twain's estate, later appraised at + something more than $600,000 was left in the hands of trustees for his + daughters. The trustees were Edward E. Loomis, Jervis Langdon, and Zoheth + S. Freeman. The direction of his literary affairs was left to his daughter + Clara and the writer of this history.] + </p> + <p> + To see him you would never have suspected that he was ill. He was in good + flesh, and his movement was as airy and his eye as bright and his face as + full of bloom as at any time during the period I had known him; also, he + was as light-hearted and full of ideas and plans, and he was even gentler—having + grown mellow with age and retirement, like good wine. + </p> + <p> + And of course he would find amusement in his condition. He said: + </p> + <p> + “I have always pretended to be sick to escape visitors; now, for the + first time, I have got a genuine excuse. It makes me feel so honest.” + </p> + <p> + And once, when Jean reported a caller in the livingroom, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Jean, I can't see her. Tell her I am likely to drop dead any minute + and it would be most embarrassing.” + </p> + <p> + But he did see her, for it was a poet—Angela Morgan—and he + read her poem, “God's Man,” aloud with great feeling, and + later he sold it for her to Collier's Weekly. + </p> + <p> + He still had violent rages now and then, remembering some of the most + notable of his mistakes; and once, after denouncing himself, rather + inclusively, as an idiot, he said: + </p> + <p> + “I wish to God the lightning would strike me; but I've wished that + fifty thousand times and never got anything out of it yet. I have missed + several good chances. Mrs. Clemens was afraid of lightning, and would + never let me bare my head to the storm.” + </p> + <p> + The element of humor was never lacking, and the rages became less violent + and less frequent. + </p> + <p> + I was at Stormfield steadily now, and there was a regular routine of + afternoon sessions of billiards or reading, in which we were generally + alone; for Jean, occupied with her farming and her secretary labors, + seldom appeared except at meal-times. Occasionally she joined in the + billiard games; but it was difficult learning and her interest was not + great. She would have made a fine player, for she had a natural talent for + games, as she had for languages, and she could have mastered the science + of angles as she had mastered tennis and French and German and Italian. + She had naturally a fine intellect, with many of her father's + characteristics, and a tender heart that made every dumb creature her + friend. + </p> + <p> + Katie Leary, who had been Jean's nurse, once told how, as a little child, + Jean had not been particularly interested in a picture of the Lisbon + earthquake, where the people were being swallowed up; but on looking at + the next page, which showed a number of animals being overwhelmed, she had + said: + </p> + <p> + “Poor things!” + </p> + <p> + Katie said: + </p> + <p> + “Why, you didn't say that about the people!” + </p> + <p> + But Jean answered: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, they could speak.” + </p> + <p> + One night at the dinner-table her father was saying how difficult it must + be for a man who had led a busy life to give up the habit of work. + </p> + <p> + “That is why the Rogerses kill themselves,” he said. “They + would rather kill themselves in the old treadmill than stop and try to + kill time. They have forgotten how to rest. They know nothing but to keep + on till they drop.” + </p> + <p> + I told of something I had read not long before. It was about an aged lion + that had broken loose from his cage at Coney Island. He had not offered to + hurt any one; but after wandering about a little, rather aimlessly, he had + come to a picket-fence, and a moment later began pacing up and down in + front of it, just the length of his cage. They had come and led him back + to his prison without trouble, and he had rushed eagerly into it. I + noticed that Jean was listening anxiously, and when I finished she said: + </p> + <p> + “Is that a true story?” + </p> + <p> + She had forgotten altogether the point in illustration. She was concerned + only with the poor old beast that had found no joy in his liberty. + </p> + <p> + Among the letters that Clemens wrote just then was one to Miss Wallace, in + which he described the glory of the fall colors as seen from his windows. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The autumn splendors passed you by? What a pity! I wish you had + been here. It was beyond words! It was heaven & hell & sunset & + rainbows & the aurora all fused into one divine harmony, & you + couldn't look at it and keep the tears back. + + Such a singing together, & such a whispering together, & such a + snuggling together of cozy, soft colors, & such kissing & caressing, + & such pretty blushing when the sun breaks out & catches those + dainty weeds at it—you remember that weed-garden of mine?—& then + —then the far hills sleeping in a dim blue trance—oh, hearing + about it is nothing, you should be here to see it! +</pre> + <p> + In the same letter he refers to some work that he was writing for his own + satisfaction—'Letters from the Earth'; said letters supposed to have + been written by an immortal visitant and addressed to other immortals in + some remote sphere. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I'll read passages to you. This book will never be published + —in fact it couldn't be, because it would be felony... Paine + enjoys it, but Paine is going to be damned one of these days, I + suppose. +</pre> + <p> + I very well remember his writing those 'Letters from the Earth'. He read + them to me from time to time as he wrote them, and they were fairly + overflowing with humor and philosophy and satire concerning the human + race. The immortal visitor pointed out, one after another, the absurdities + of mankind, his ridiculous conception of heaven, and his special conceit + in believing that he was the Creator's pet—the particular form of + life for which all the universe was created. Clemens allowed his exuberant + fancy free rein, being under no restrictions as to the possibility of + print or public offense. He enjoyed them himself, too, as he read them + aloud, and we laughed ourselves weak over his bold imaginings. + </p> + <p> + One admissible extract will carry something of the flavor of these + chapters. It is where the celestial correspondent describes man's + religion. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + His heaven is like himself: strange, interesting, astonishing, + grotesque. I give you my word it has not a single feature in it + that he actually values. It consists—utterly and entirely—of + diversions which he cares next to nothing about here in the earth, + yet he is quite sure he will like in heaven. Isn't it curious? + Isn't it interesting? You must not think I am exaggerating, for it + is not so. I will give you the details. + + Most, men do not sing, most men cannot sing, most men will not stay + where others are singing if it be continued more than two hours. + Note that. + + Only about two men in a hundred can play upon a musical instrument, + and not four in a hundred have any wish to learn how. Set that + down. + + Many men pray, not many of them like to do it. A few pray long, the + others make a short-cut. + + More men go to church than want to. + + To forty-nine men in fifty the Sabbath day is a dreary, dreary bore. + + Further, all sane people detest noise. + + All people, sane or insane, like to have variety in their lives. + Monotony quickly wearies them. + + Now then, you have the facts. You know what men don't enjoy. Well, + they have invented a heaven, out of their own heads, all by + themselves; guess what it is like? In fifteen hundred years you + couldn't do it. They have left out the very things they care for + most their dearest pleasures—and replaced them with prayer! + + In man's heaven everybody sings. There are no exceptions. The man + who did not sing on earth sings there; the man who could not sing on + earth sings there. Thus universal singing is not casual, not + occasional, not relieved by intervals of quiet; it goes on all day + long and every day during a stretch of twelve hours. And everybody + stays where on earth the place would be empty in two hours. The + singing is of hymns alone. Nay, it is one hymn alone. The words + are always the same in number—they are only about a dozen—there is + no rhyme—there is no poetry. “Hosanna, hosanna, hosanna unto the + highest!” and a few such phrases constitute the whole service. + + Meantime, every person is playing on a harp! Consider the deafening + hurricane of sound. Consider, further, it is a praise service—a + service of compliment, flattery, adulation. Do you ask who it is + that is willing to endure this strange compliment, this insane + compliment, and who not only endures it but likes it, enjoys it, + requires it, commands it? Hold your breath: It is God! This race's + God I mean—their own pet invention. +</pre> + <p> + Most of the ideas presented in this his last commentary on human + absurdities were new only as to phrasing. He had exhausted the topic long + ago, in one way or another; but it was one of the themes in which he never + lost interest. Many subjects became stale to him at last; but the curious + invention called man remained a novelty to him to the end. + </p> + <p> + From my note-book: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + October 25. I am constantly amazed at his knowledge of history—all + history—religious, political, military. He seems to have read + everything in the world concerning Rome, France, and England + particularly. + + Last night we stopped playing billiards while he reviewed, in the + most vivid and picturesque phrasing, the reasons of Rome's decline. + Such a presentation would have enthralled any audience—I could not + help feeling a great pity that he had not devoted some of his public + effort to work of that sort. No one could have equaled him at it. + He concluded with some comments on the possibility of America + following Rome's example, though he thought the vote of the people + would always, or at least for a long period, prevent imperialism. + + November 1. To-day he has been absorbed in his old interest in + shorthand. “It is the only rational alphabet,” he declared. “All + this spelling reform is nonsense. What we need is alphabet reform, + and shorthand is the thing. Take the letter M, for instance; it is + made with one stroke in shorthand, while in longhand it requires at + least three. The word Mephistopheles can be written in shorthand + with one-sixth the number of strokes that is required in longhand. + I tell you shorthand should be adopted as the alphabet.” + + I said: “There is this objection: the characters are so slightly + different that each writer soon forms a system of his own and it is + seldom that two can read each other's notes.” + + “You are talking of stenographic reporting,” he said, rather warmly. + “Nothing of the kind is true in the case of the regular alphabet. + It is perfectly clear and legible.” + + “Would you have it in the schools, then?” + + “Yes, it should be taught in the schools, not for stenographic + purposes, but only for use in writing to save time.” + + He was very much in earnest, and said he had undertaken an article + on the subject. + + November 3. He said he could not sleep last night, for thinking + what a fool he had been in his various investments. + + “I have always been the victim of somebody,” he said, “and always an + idiot myself, doing things that even a child would not do. Never + asking anybody's advice—never taking it when it was offered. I + can't see how anybody could do the things I have done and have kept + right on doing.” + I could see that the thought agitated him, and I suggested that we + go to his room and read, which we did, and had a riotous time over + the most recent chapters of the 'Letters from the Earth', and some + notes he had made for future chapters on infant damnation and other + distinctive features of orthodox creeds. He told an anecdote of an + old minister who declared that Presbyterianism without infant + damnation would be like the dog on the train that couldn't be + identified because it had lost its tag. + + Somewhat on the defensive I said, “But we must admit that the so- + called Christian nations are the most enlightened and progressive.” + + He answered, “Yes, but in spite of their religion, not because of + it. The Church has opposed every innovation and discovery from the + day of Galileo down to our own time, when the use of anesthetics in + child-birth was regarded as a sin because it avoided the biblical + curse pronounced against Eve. And every step in astronomy and + geology ever taken has been opposed by bigotry and superstition. + The Greeks surpassed us in artistic culture and in architecture five + hundred years before the Christian religion was born. + + “I have been reading Gibbon's celebrated Fifteenth Chapter,” he said + later, “and I don't see what Christians found against it. It is so + mild—so gentle in its sarcasm.” He added that he had been reading + also a little book of brief biographies and had found in it the + saying of Darwin's father, “Unitarianism is a featherbed to catch + falling Christians.” + + “I was glad to find and identify that saying,” he said; “it is so + good.” + + He finished the evening by reading a chapter from Carlyle's French + Revolution—a fine pyrotechnic passage—the gathering at Versailles. + I said that Carlyle somehow reminded me of a fervid stump-speaker + who pounded his fists and went at his audience fiercely, determined + to convince them. + + “Yes,” he said, “but he is the best one that ever lived.” + + November 10. This morning early he heard me stirring and called. I + went in and found him propped up with a book, as usual. He said: + + “I seldom read Christmas stories, but this is very beautiful. It + has made me cry. I want you to read it.” (It was Booth + Tarkington's 'Beasley's Christmas Party'.) “Tarkington has the true + touch,” he said; “his work always satisfies me.” Another book he + has been reading with great enjoyment is James Branch Cabell's + Chivalry. He cannot say enough of the subtle poetic art with which + Cabell has flung the light of romance about dark and sordid chapters + of history. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0297" id="link2H_4_0297"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLXXVII. MARK TWAIN'S READING + </h2> + <p> + Perhaps here one may speak of Mark Twain's reading in general. On the + table by him, and on his bed, and in the billiard-room shelves he kept the + books he read most. They were not many—not more than a dozen—but + they were manifestly of familiar and frequent usage. All, or nearly all, + had annotations—spontaneously uttered marginal notes, title + prefatories, or concluding comments. They were the books he had read again + and again, and it was seldom that he had not had something to say with + each fresh reading. + </p> + <p> + There were the three big volumes by Saint-Simon—'The Memoirs'—which + he once told me he had read no less than twenty times. On the fly-leaf of + the first volume he wrote— + </p> + <p> + This, & Casanova & Pepys, set in parallel columns, could afford a + good coup d'oeil of French & English high life of that epoch. + </p> + <p> + All through those finely printed volumes are his commentaries, sometimes + no more than a word, sometimes a filled, closely written margin. He found + little to admire in the human nature of Saint-Simon's period—little + to approve in Saint-Simon himself beyond his unrestrained frankness, which + he admired without stint, and in one paragraph where the details of that + early period are set down with startling fidelity he wrote: “Oh, + incomparable Saint-Simon!” + </p> + <p> + Saint-Simon is always frank, and Mark Twain was equally so. Where the + former tells one of the unspeakable compulsions of Louis XIV., the latter + has commented: + </p> + <p> + We have to grant that God made this royal hog; we may also be permitted to + believe that it was a crime to do so. + </p> + <p> + And on another page: + </p> + <p> + In her memories of this period the Duchesse de St. Clair makes this + striking remark: “Sometimes one could tell a gentleman, but it was + only by his manner of using his fork.” + </p> + <p> + His comments on the orthodox religion of Saint-Simon's period are not + marked by gentleness. Of the author's reference to the Edict of Nantes, + which he says depopulated half of the realm, ruined its commerce, and + “authorized torments and punishments by which so many innocent + people of both sexes were killed by thousands,” Clemens writes: + </p> + <p> + So much blood has been shed by the Church because of an omission from the + Gospel: “Ye shall be indifferent as to what your neighbor's religion + is.” Not merely tolerant of it, but indifferent to it. Divinity is + claimed for many religions; but no religion is great enough or divine + enough to add that new law to its code. + </p> + <p> + In the place where Saint-Simon describes the death of Monseigneur, son of + the king, and the court hypocrites are wailing their extravagantly + pretended sorrow, Clemens wrote: + </p> + <p> + It is all so true, all so human. God made these animals. He must have + noticed this scene; I wish I knew how it struck Him. + </p> + <p> + There were not many notes in the Suetonius, nor in the Carlyle Revolution, + though these were among the volumes he read oftenest. Perhaps they + expressed for him too completely and too richly their subject-matter to + require anything at his hand. Here and there are marked passages and + occasional cross-references to related history and circumstance. + </p> + <p> + There was not much room for comment on the narrow margins of the old copy + of Pepys, which he had read steadily since the early seventies; but here + and there a few crisp words, and the underscoring and marked passages are + plentiful enough to convey his devotion to that quaint record which, + perhaps next to Suetonius, was the book he read and quoted most. + </p> + <p> + Francis Parkman's Canadian Histories he had read periodically, especially + the story of the Old Regime and of the Jesuits in North America. As late + as January, 1908, he wrote on the title-page of the Old Regime: + </p> + <p> + Very interesting. It tells how people religiously and otherwise insane + came over from France and colonized Canada. + </p> + <p> + He was not always complimentary to those who undertook to Christianize the + Indians; but he did not fail to write his admiration of their courage—their + very willingness to endure privation and even the fiendish savage tortures + for the sake of their faith. “What manner of men are these?” + he wrote, apropos of the account of Bressani, who had undergone the most + devilish inflictions which savage ingenuity could devise, and yet returned + maimed and disfigured the following spring to “dare again the knives + and fiery brand of the Iroquois.” Clemens was likely to be on the + side of the Indians, but hardly in their barbarism. In one place he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + That men should be willing to leave their happy homes and endure + what the missionaries endured in order to teach these Indians the + road to hell would be rational, understandable, but why they should + want to teach them a way to heaven is a thing which the mind somehow + cannot grasp. +</pre> + <p> + Other histories, mainly English and French, showed how he had read them—read + and digested every word and line. There were two volumes of Lecky, much + worn; Andrew D. White's 'Science and Theology'—a chief interest for + at least one summer—and among the collection a well-worn copy of + 'Modern English Literature—Its Blemishes and Defects', by Henry H. + Breen. On the title-page of this book Clemens had written: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HARTFORD, 1876. Use with care, for it is a scarce book. England + had to be ransacked in order to get it—or the bookseller speaketh + falsely. +</pre> + <p> + He once wrote a paper for the Saturday Morning Club, using for his text + examples of slipshod English which Breen had noted. + </p> + <p> + Clemens had a passion for biography, and especially for autobiography, + diaries, letters, and such intimate human history. Greville's 'Journal of + the Reigns of George IV. and William IV.' he had read much and annotated + freely. Greville, while he admired Byron's talents, abhorred the poet's + personality, and in one place condemns him as a vicious person and a + debauchee. He adds: + </p> + <p> + Then he despises pretenders and charlatans of all sorts, while he is + himself a pretender, as all men are who assume a character which does not + belong to them and affect to be something which they are all the time + conscious they are not in reality. + </p> + <p> + Clemens wrote on the margin: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + But, dear sir, you are forgetting that what a man sees in the human + race is merely himself in the deep and honest privacy of his own + heart. Byron despised the race because he despised himself. I feel + as Byron did, and for the same reason. Do you admire the race (& + consequently yourself)? +</pre> + <p> + A little further along—where Greville laments that Byron can take no + profit to himself from the sinful characters he depicts so faithfully, + Clemens commented: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + If Byron—if any man—draws 50 characters, they are all himself—50 + shades, 50 moods, of his own character. And when the man draws them + well why do they stir my admiration? Because they are me—I + recognize myself. +</pre> + <p> + A volume of Plutarch was among the biographies that showed usage, and the + Life of P. T. Barnum, Written by Himself. Two Years Before the Mast he + loved, and never tired of. The more recent Memoirs of Andrew D. White and + Moncure D. Conway both, I remember, gave him enjoyment, as did the Letters + of Lowell. A volume of the Letters of Madame de Sevigne had some annotated + margins which were not complimentary to the translator, or for that matter + to Sevigne herself, whom he once designates as a “nauseating” + person, many of whose letters had been uselessly translated, as well as + poorly arranged for reading. But he would read any volume of letters or + personal memoirs; none were too poor that had the throb of life in them, + however slight. + </p> + <p> + Of such sort were the books that Mark Twain had loved best, and such were + a few of his words concerning them. Some of them belong to his earlier + reading, and among these is Darwin's 'Descent of Man', a book whose + influence was always present, though I believe he did not read it any more + in later years. In the days I knew him he read steadily not much besides + Suetonius and Pepys and Carlyle. These and his simple astronomies and + geologies and the Morte Arthure and the poems of Kipling were seldom far + from his hand. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0298" id="link2H_4_0298"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLXXXVIII. A BERMUDA BIRTHDAY + </h2> + <p> + It was the middle of November, 1909, when Clemens decided to take another + Bermuda vacation, and it was the 19th that we sailed. I went to New York a + day ahead and arranged matters, and on the evening of the 18th received + the news that Richard Watson Gilder had suddenly died. + </p> + <p> + Next morning there was other news. Clemens's old friend, William M. + Laffan, of the Sun, had died while undergoing a surgical operation. I met + Clemens at the train. He had already heard about Gilder; but he had not + yet learned of Laffan's death. He said: + </p> + <p> + “That's just it. Gilder and Laffan get all the good things that come + along and I never get anything.” + </p> + <p> + Then, suddenly remembering, he added: + </p> + <p> + “How curious it is! I have been thinking of Laffan coming down on + the train, and mentally writing a letter to him on this Stetson-Eddy + affair.” + </p> + <p> + I asked when he had begun thinking of Laffan. + </p> + <p> + He said: “Within the hour.” + </p> + <p> + It was within the hour that I had received the news, and naturally in my + mind had carried it instantly to him. Perhaps there was something + telepathic in it. + </p> + <p> + He was not at all ill going down to Bermuda, which was a fortunate thing, + for the water was rough and I was quite disqualified. We did not even + discuss astronomy, though there was what seemed most important news—the + reported discovery of a new planet. + </p> + <p> + But there was plenty of talk on the subject as soon as we got settled in + the Hamilton Hotel. It was windy and rainy out-of-doors, and we looked out + on the drenched semi-tropical foliage with a great bamboo swaying and + bending in the foreground, while he speculated on the vast distance that + the new planet must lie from our sun, to which it was still a satellite. + The report had said that it was probably four hundred billions of miles + distant, and that on this far frontier of the solar system the sun could + not appear to it larger than the blaze of a tallow candle. To us it was + wholly incredible how, in that dim remoteness, it could still hold true to + the central force and follow at a snail-pace, yet with unvarying + exactitude, its stupendous orbit. Clemens said that heretofore Neptune, + the planetary outpost of our system, had been called the tortoise of the + skies, but that comparatively it was rapid in its motion, and had become a + near neighbor. He was a good deal excited at first, having somehow the + impression that this new planet traveled out beyond the nearest fixed + star; but then he remembered that the distance to that first solar + neighbor was estimated in trillions, not billions, and that our little + system, even with its new additions, was a child's handbreadth on the + plane of the sky. He had brought along a small book called The Pith of + Astronomy—a fascinating little volume—and he read from it + about the great tempest of fire in the sun, where the waves of flame roll + up two thousand miles high, though the sun itself is such a tiny star in + the deeps of the universe. + </p> + <p> + If I dwell unwarrantably on this phase of Mark Twain's character, it is + because it was always so fascinating to me, and the contemplation of the + drama of the skies always meant so much to him, and somehow always seemed + akin to him in its proportions. He had been born under a flaming star, a + wanderer of the skies. He was himself, to me, always a comet rushing + through space, from mystery to mystery, regardless of sun and systems. It + is not likely to rain long in Bermuda, and when the sun comes back it + brings summer, whatever the season. Within a day after our arrival we were + driving about those coral roads along the beaches, and by that marvelously + variegated water. We went often to the south shore, especially to + Devonshire Bay, where the reefs and the sea coloring seem more beautiful + than elsewhere. Usually, when we reached the bay, we got out to walk along + the indurated shore, stopping here and there to look out over the jeweled + water liquid turquoise, emerald lapis-lazuli, jade, the imperial garment + of the Lord. + </p> + <p> + At first we went alone with only the colored driver, Clifford Trott, whose + name Clemens could not recollect, though he was always attempting + resemblances with ludicrous results. A little later Helen Allen, an early + angel-fish member already mentioned, was with us and directed the drives, + for she had been born on the island and knew every attractive locality, + though, for that matter, it would be hard to find there a place that was + not attractive. + </p> + <p> + Clemens, in fact, remained not many days regularly at the hotel. He kept a + room and his wardrobe there; but he paid a visit to Bay House—the + lovely and quiet home of Helen's parents—and prolonged it from day + to day, and from week to week, because it was a quiet and peaceful place + with affectionate attention and limitless welcome. Clifford Trott had + orders to come with the carriage each afternoon, and we drove down to Bay + House for Mark Twain and his playmate, and then went wandering at will + among the labyrinth of blossom-bordered, perfectly kept roadways of a + dainty paradise, that never, I believe, becomes quite a reality even to + those who know it best. + </p> + <p> + Clemens had an occasional paroxysm during these weeks, but they were not + likely to be severe or protracted; and I have no doubt the peace of his + surroundings, the remoteness from disturbing events, as well as the balmy + temperature, all contributed to his improved condition. + </p> + <p> + He talked pretty continuously during these drives, and he by no means + restricted his subjects to juvenile matters. He discussed history and his + favorite sciences and philosophies, and I am sure that his drift was + rarely beyond the understanding of his young companion, for it was Mark + Twain's gift to phrase his thought so that it commanded not only the + respect of age, but the comprehension and the interest of youth. I + remember that once he talked, during an afternoon's drive, on the French + Revolution and the ridiculous episode of Anacharsis Cloots, “orator + and advocate of the human race,” collecting the vast populace of + France to swear allegiance to a king even then doomed to the block. The + very name of Cloots suggested humor, and nothing could have been more + delightful and graphic than the whole episode as he related it. Helen + asked if he thought such a thing as that could ever happen in America. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, “the American sense of humor would have + laughed it out of court in a week; and the Frenchman dreads ridicule, too, + though he never seems to realize how ridiculous he is—the most + ridiculous creature in the world.” + </p> + <p> + On the morning of his seventy-fourth birthday he was looking wonderfully + well after a night of sound sleep, his face full of color and freshness, + his eyes bright and keen and full of good-humor. I presented him with a + pair of cuff-buttons silver-enameled with the Bermuda lily, and I thought + he seemed pleased with them. + </p> + <p> + It was rather gloomy outside, so we remained indoors by the fire and + played cards, game after game of hearts, at which he excelled, and he was + usually kept happy by winning. There were no visitors, and after dinner + Helen asked him to read some of her favorite episodes from Tom Sawyer, so + he read the whitewashing scene, Peter and the Pain-killer, and such + chapters until tea-time. Then there was a birthday cake, and afterward + cigars and talk and a quiet fireside evening. + </p> + <p> + Once, in the course of his talk, he forgot a word and denounced his poor + memory: + </p> + <p> + “I'll forget the Lord's middle name some time,” he declared, + “right in the midst of a storm, when I need all the help I can get.” + </p> + <p> + Later he said: + </p> + <p> + “Nobody dreamed, seventy-four years ago to-day, that I would be in + Bermuda now.” And I thought he meant a good deal more than the words + conveyed. + </p> + <p> + It was during this Bermuda visit that Mark Twain added the finishing + paragraph to his article, “The Turning-Point in My Life,” + which, at Howells's suggestion, he had been preparing for Harper's Bazar. + It was a characteristic touch, and, as the last summary of his philosophy + of human life, may be repeated here. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Necessarily the scene of the real turning-point of my life (and of + yours) was the Garden of Eden. It was there that the first link was + forged of the chain that was ultimately to lead to the emptying of + me into the literary guild. Adam's temperament was the first + command the Deity ever issued to a human being on this planet. And + it was the only command Adam would never be able to disobey. It + said, “Be weak, be water, be characterless, be cheaply persuadable.” + The later command, to let the fruit alone, was certain to be + disobeyed. Not by Adam himself, but by his temperament—which he + did not create and had no authority over. For the temperament is + the man; the thing tricked out with clothes and named Man is merely + its Shadow, nothing more. The law of the tiger's temperament is, + Thou shaft kill; the law of the sheep's temperament is, Thou shalt + not kill. To issue later commands requiring the tiger to let the + fat stranger alone, and requiring the sheep to imbrue its hands in + the blood of the lion is not worth while, for those commands can't + be obeyed. They would invite to violations of the law of + temperament, which is supreme, and takes precedence of all other + authorities. I cannot help feeling disappointed in Adam and Eve. + That is, in their temperaments. Not in them, poor helpless young + creatures—afflicted with temperaments made out of butter, which + butter was commanded to get into contact with fire and be melted. + What I cannot help wishing is, that Adam and Eve had been postponed, + and Martin Luther and Joan of Arc put in their place—that splendid + pair equipped with temperaments not made of butter, but of asbestos. + By neither sugary persuasions nor by hell-fire could Satan have + beguiled them to eat the apple. + + There would have been results! Indeed yes. The apple would be + intact to-day; there would be no human race; there would be no you; + there would be no me. And the old, old creation-dawn scheme of + ultimately launching me into the literary guild would have been + defeated. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0299" id="link2H_4_0299"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCLXXXIX. THE DEATH OF JEAN + </h2> + <p> + He decided to go home for the holidays, and how fortunate it seems now + that he did so! We sailed for America on the 18th of December, arriving + the 21st. Jean was at the wharf to meet us, blue and shivering with the + cold, for it was wretchedly bleak there, and I had the feeling that she + should not have come. + </p> + <p> + She went directly, I think, to Stormfield, he following a day or two + later. On the 23d I was lunching with Jean alone. She was full of interest + in her Christmas preparations. She had a handsome tree set up in the + loggia, and the packages were piled about it, with new ones constantly + arriving. With her farm management, her housekeeping, her secretary work, + and her Christmas preparations, it seemed to me that she had her hands + overfull. Such a mental pressure could not be good for her. I suggested + that for a time at least I might assume a part of her burden. + </p> + <p> + I was to remain at my own home that night, and I think it was as I left + Stormfield that I passed jean on the stair. She said, cheerfully, that she + felt a little tired and was going up to lie down, so that she would be + fresh for the evening. I did not go back, and I never saw her alive again. + </p> + <p> + I was at breakfast next morning when word was brought in that one of the + men from Stormfield was outside and wished to see me immediately. When I + went out he said: “Miss Jean is dead. They have just found her in + her bath-room. Mr. Clemens sent me to bring you.” + </p> + <p> + It was as incomprehensible as such things always are. I could not realize + at all that Jean, so full of plans and industries and action less than a + day before, had passed into that voiceless mystery which we call death. + </p> + <p> + Harry Iles drove me rapidly up the hill. As I entered Clemens's room he + looked at me helplessly and said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, I suppose you have heard of this final disaster.” + </p> + <p> + He was not violent or broken down with grief. He had come to that place + where, whatever the shock or the ill-turn of fortune, he could accept it, + and even in that first moment of loss he realized that, for Jean at least, + the fortune was not ill. Her malady had never been cured, and it had been + one of his deepest dreads that he would leave her behind him. It was + believed, at first; that Jean had drowned, and Dr. Smith tried methods of + resuscitation; but then he found that it was simply a case of heart + cessation caused by the cold shock of her bath. + </p> + <p> + The Gabrilowitsches were by this time in Europe, and Clemens cabled them + not to come. Later in the day he asked me if we would be willing to close + our home for the winter and come to Stormfield. He said that he should + probably go back to Bermuda before long; but that he wished to keep the + house open so that it would be there for him to come to at any time that + he might need it. + </p> + <p> + We came, of course, for there was no thought among any of his friends but + for his comfort and peace of mind. Jervis Langdon was summoned from + Elmira, for Jean would lie there with the others. + </p> + <p> + In the loggia stood the half-trimmed Christmas tree, and all about lay the + packages of gifts, and in Jean's room, on the chairs and upon her desk, + were piled other packages. Nobody had been forgotten. For her father she + had bought a handsome globe; he had always wanted one. Once when I went + into his room he said: + </p> + <p> + “I have been looking in at Jean and envying her. I have never + greatly envied any one but the dead. I always envy the dead.” + </p> + <p> + He told me how the night before they had dined together alone; how he had + urged her to turn over a part of her work to me; how she had clung to + every duty as if now, after all the years, she was determined to make up + for lost time. + </p> + <p> + While they were at dinner a telephone inquiry had come concerning his + health, for the papers had reported him as returning from Bermuda in a + critical condition. He had written this playful answer: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MANAGER ASSOCIATED PRESS, + New York. + + I hear the newspapers say I am dying. The charge is not true. I + would not do such a thing at my time of life. I am behaving as good + as I can. + + Merry Christmas to everybody! MARK TWAIN. +</pre> + <p> + Jean telephoned it for him to the press. It had been the last secretary + service she had ever rendered. + </p> + <p> + She had kissed his hand, he said, when they parted, for she had a severe + cold and would not wish to impart it to him; then happily she had said + good night, and he had not seen her again. The reciting of this was good + to him, for it brought the comfort of tears. + </p> + <p> + Later, when I went in again, he was writing: + </p> + <p> + “I am setting it down,” he said—“everything. It is + a relief to me to write it. It furnishes me an excuse for thinking.” + </p> + <p> + He continued writing most of the day, and at intervals during the next + day, and the next. + </p> + <p> + It was on Christmas Day that they went with Jean on her last journey. + Katie Leary, her baby nurse, had dressed her in the dainty gown which she + had worn for Clara's wedding, and they had pinned on it a pretty buckle + which her father had brought her from Bermuda, and which she had not seen. + No Greek statue was ever more classically beautiful than she was, lying + there in the great living-room, which in its brief history had seen so + much of the round of life. + </p> + <p> + They were to start with jean at about six o'clock, and a little before + that time Clemens (he was unable to make the journey) asked me what had + been her favorite music. I said that she seemed always to care most for + the Schubert Impromptu.—[Op. 142, No. 2.]—Then he said: + </p> + <p> + “Play it when they get ready to leave with her, and add the + Intermezzo for Susy and the Largo for Mrs. Clemens. When I hear the music + I shall know that they are starting. Tell them to set lanterns at the + door, so I can look down and see them go.” + </p> + <p> + So I sat at the organ and began playing as they lifted and bore her away. + A soft, heavy snow was falling, and the gloom of those shortest days was + closing in. There was not the least wind or noise, the whole world was + muffled. The lanterns at the door threw their light out on the thickly + falling flakes. I remained at the organ; but the little group at the door + saw him come to the window above—the light on his white hair as he + stood mournfully gazing down, watching Jean going away from him for the + last time. I played steadily on as he had instructed, the Impromptu, the + Intermezzo from “Cavalleria,” and Handel's Largo. When I had + finished I went up and found him. + </p> + <p> + “Poor little Jean,” he said; “but for her it is so good + to go.” + </p> + <p> + In his own story of it he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + From my windows I saw the hearse and the carriages wind along the + road and gradually grow vague and spectral in the falling snow, and + presently disappear. Jean was gone out of my life, and would not + come back any more. The cousin she had played with when they were + babies together—he and her beloved old Katie—Were conducting her + to her distant childhood home, where she will lie by her mother's + side once more, in the company of Susy and Langdon. +</pre> + <p> + He did not come down to dinner, and when I went up afterward I found him + curiously agitated. He said: + </p> + <p> + “For one who does not believe in spirits I have had a most peculiar + experience. I went into the bath-room just now and closed the door. You + know how warm it always is in there, and there are no draughts. All at + once I felt a cold current of air about me. I thought the door must be + open; but it was closed. I said, 'Jean, is this you trying to let me know + you have found the others?' Then the cold air was gone.” + </p> + <p> + I saw that the incident had made a very great impression upon him; but I + don't remember that he ever mentioned it afterward. + </p> + <p> + Next day the storm had turned into a fearful blizzard; the whole hilltop + was a raging, driving mass of white. He wrote most of the day, but stopped + now and then to read some of the telegrams or letters of condolence which + came flooding in. Sometimes he walked over to the window to look out on + the furious tempest. Once, during the afternoon, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Jean always so loved to see a storm like this, and just now at + Elmira they are burying her.” + </p> + <p> + Later he read aloud some lines by Alfred Austin, which Mrs. Crane had sent + him lines which he had remembered in the sorrow for Susy: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When last came sorrow, around barn and byre + Wind-careen snow, the year's white sepulchre, lay. + “Come in,” I said, “and warm you by the fire”; + And there she sits and never goes away. +</pre> + <p> + It was that evening that he came into the room where Mrs. Paine and I sat + by the fire, bringing his manuscript. + </p> + <p> + “I have finished my story of Jean's death,” he said. “It + is the end of my autobiography. I shall never write any more. I can't + judge it myself at all. One of you read it aloud to the other, and let me + know what you think of it. If it is worthy, perhaps some day it may be + published.” + </p> + <p> + It was, in fact, one of the most exquisite and tender pieces of writing in + the language. He had ended his literary labors with that perfect thing + which so marvelously speaks the loftiness and tenderness of his soul. It + was thoroughly in keeping with his entire career that he should, with this + rare dramatic touch, bring it to a close. A paragraph which he omitted may + be printed now: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + December 27. Did I know jean's value? No, I only thought I did. + I knew a ten-thousandth fraction of it, that was all. It is always + so, with us, it has always been so. We are like the poor ignorant + private soldier-dead, now, four hundred years—who picked up the + great Sancy diamond on the field of the lost battle and sold it for + a franc. Later he knew what he had done. + + Shall I ever be cheerful again, happy again? Yes. And soon. For + I know my temperament. And I know that the temperament is master of + the man, and that he is its fettered and helpless slave and must in + all things do as it commands. A man's temperament is born in him, + and no circumstances can ever change it. + + My temperament has never allowed my spirits to remain depressed long + at a time. + + That was a feature of Jean's temperament, too. She inherited it + from me. I think she got the rest of it from her mother. +</pre> + <p> + Jean Clemens had two natural endowments: the gift of justice and a genuine + passion for all nature. In a little paper found in her desk she had + written: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I know a few people who love the country as I do, but not many. + Most of my acquaintances are enthusiastic over the spring and summer + months, but very few care much for it the year round. A few people + are interested in the spring foliage and the development of the wild + flowers—nearly all enjoy the autumn colors—while comparatively few + pay much attention to the coming and going of the birds, the changes + in their plumage and songs, the apparent springing into life on some + warm April day of the chipmunks and woodchucks, the skurrying of + baby rabbits, and again in the fall the equally sudden disappearance + of some of the animals and the growing shyness of others. To me it + is all as fascinating as a book—more so, since I have never lost + interest in it. +</pre> + <p> + It is simple and frank, like Thoreau. Perhaps, had she exercised it, there + was a third gift—the gift of written thought. + </p> + <p> + Clemens remained at Stormfield ten days after Jean was gone. The weather + was fiercely cold, the landscape desolate, the house full of tragedy. He + kept pretty closely to his room, where he had me bring the heaps of + letters, a few of which he answered personally; for the others he prepared + a simple card of acknowledgment. He was for the most part in gentle mood + during these days, though he would break out now and then, and rage at the + hardness of a fate that had laid an unearned burden of illness on Jean and + shadowed her life. + </p> + <p> + They were days not wholly without humor—none of his days could be + altogether without that, though it was likely to be of a melancholy sort. + </p> + <p> + Many of the letters offered orthodox comfort, saying, in effect: “God + does not willingly punish us.” + </p> + <p> + When he had read a number of these he said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, why does He do it then? We don't invite it. Why does He give + Himself the trouble?” + </p> + <p> + I suggested that it was a sentiment that probably gave comfort to the + writer of it. + </p> + <p> + “So it does,” he said, “and I am glad of it—glad + of anything that gives comfort to anybody.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke of the larger God—the God of the great unvarying laws, and + by and by dropped off to sleep, quite peacefully, and indeed peace came + more and more to him each day with the thought that Jean and Susy and + their mother could not be troubled any more. To Mrs. Gabrilowitsch he + wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + REDDING, CONN, December 29, 1909. + + O, Clara, Clara dear, I am so glad she is out of it & safe—safe! + + I am not melancholy; I shall never be melancholy again, I think. + + You see, I was in such distress when I came to realize that you were + gone far away & no one stood between her & danger but me—& I could + die at any moment, & then—oh then what would become of her! For + she was wilful, you know, & would not have been governable. + + You can't imagine what a darling she was that last two or three + days; & how fine, & good, & sweet, & noble—& joyful, thank Heaven! + —& how intellectually brilliant. I had never been acquainted with + Jean before. I recognized that. + + But I mustn't try to write about her—I can't. I have already + poured my heart out with the pen, recording that last day or two. + I will send you that—& you must let no one but Ossip read it. + + Good-by. I love you so! And Ossip. + FATHER. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0300" id="link2H_4_0300"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXC. THE RETURN TO BERMUDA + </h2> + <p> + I don't think he attempted any further writing for print. His mind was + busy with ideas, but he was willing to talk, rather than to write, rather + even than to play billiards, it seemed, although we had a few quiet games—the + last we should ever play together. Evenings he asked for music, preferring + the Scotch airs, such as “Bonnie Doon” and “The + Campbells are Coming.” I remember that once, after playing the + latter for him, he told, with great feeling, how the Highlanders, led by + Gen. Colin Campbell, had charged at Lucknow, inspired by that stirring + air. When he had retired I usually sat with him, and he drifted into + literature, or theology, or science, or history—the story of the + universe and man. + </p> + <p> + One evening he spoke of those who had written but one immortal thing and + stopped there. He mentioned “Ben Bolt.” + </p> + <p> + “I met that man once,” he said. “In my childhood I sang + 'Sweet Alice, Ben Bolt,' and in my old age, fifteen years ago, I met the + man who wrote it. His name was Brown.—[Thomas Dunn English. Mr. + Clemens apparently remembered only the name satirically conferred upon him + by Edgar Allan Poe, “Thomas Dunn Brown.”]—He was aged, + forgotten, a mere memory. I remember how it thrilled me to realize that + this was the very author of 'Sweet Alice, Ben Bolt.' He was just an + accident. He had a vision and echoed it. A good many persons do that—the + thing they do is to put in compact form the thing which we have all + vaguely felt. 'Twenty Years Ago' is just like it 'I have wandered through + the village, Tom, and sat beneath the tree'—and Holmes's 'Last Leaf' + is another: the memory of the hallowed past, and the gravestones of those + we love. It is all so beautiful—the past is always beautiful.” + </p> + <p> + He quoted, with great feeling and effect: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The massy marbles rest + On the lips that we have pressed + In their bloom, + And the names we love to hear + Have been carved for many a year + On the tomb. +</pre> + <p> + He continued in this strain for an hour or more. He spoke of humor, and + thought it must be one of the chief attributes of God. He cited plants and + animals that were distinctly humorous in form and in their + characteristics. These he declared were God's jokes. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” he said, “humor is mankind's greatest blessing.” + </p> + <p> + “Your own case is an example,” I answered. “Without it, + whatever your reputation as a philosopher, you could never have had the + wide-spread affection that is shown by the writers of that great heap of + letters.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, gently, “they have liked to be amused.” + </p> + <p> + I tucked him in for the night, promising to send him to Bermuda, with + Claude to take care of him, if he felt he could undertake the journey in + two days more. + </p> + <p> + He was able, and he was eager to go, for he longed for that sunny island, + and for the quiet peace of the Allen home. His niece, Mrs. Loomis, came up + to spend the last evening in Stormfield, a happy evening full of quiet + talk, and next morning, in the old closed carriage that had been his + wedding-gift, he was driven to the railway station. This was on January 4, + 1910. + </p> + <p> + He was to sail next day, and that night, at Mr. Loomis's, Howells came in, + and for an hour or two they reviewed some of the questions they had so + long ago settled, or left forever unsettled, and laid away. I remember + that at dinner Clemens spoke of his old Hartford butler, George, and how + he had once brought George to New York and introduced him at the various + publishing houses as his friend, with curious and sometimes rather + embarrassing results. + </p> + <p> + The talk drifted to sociology and to the labor-unions, which Clemens + defended as being the only means by which the workman could obtain + recognition of his rights. + </p> + <p> + Howells in his book mentions this evening, which he says “was made + memorable to me by the kind, clear, judicial sense with which he explained + and justified the labor-unions as the sole present help of the weak + against the strong.” + </p> + <p> + They discussed dreams, and then in a little while Howells rose to go. I + went also, and as we walked to his near-by apartment he spoke of Mark + Twain's supremacy. He said: + </p> + <p> + “I turn to his books for cheer when I am down-hearted. There was + never anybody like him; there never will be.” + </p> + <p> + Clemens sailed next morning. They did not meet again. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0301" id="link2H_4_0301"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXCI. LETTERS FROM BERMUDA + </h2> + <p> + Stormfield was solemn and empty without Mark Twain; but he wrote by every + steamer, at first with his own hand, and during the last week by the hand + of one of his enlisted secretaries—some member of the Allen family + usually Helen. His letters were full of brightness and pleasantry—always + concerned more or less with business matters, though he was no longer + disturbed by them, for Bermuda was too peaceful and too far away, and, + besides, he had faith in the Mark Twain Company's ability to look after + his affairs. I cannot do better, I believe, than to offer some portions of + these letters here. + </p> + <p> + He reached Bermuda on the 7th of January, 1910, and on the 12th he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Again I am living the ideal life. There is nothing to mar it but + the bloody-minded bandit Arthur,—[A small playmate of Helen's of + whom Clemens pretended to be fiercely jealous. Once he wrote a + memorandum to Helen: “Let Arthur read this book. There is a page in + it that is poisoned.”]—who still fetches and carries Helen. + Presently he will be found drowned. Claude comes to Bay House twice + a day to see if I need any service. He is invaluable. There was a + military lecture last night at the Officers' Mess Prospect; as the + lecturer honored me with a special urgent invitation, and said he + wanted to lecture to me particularly, I naturally took Helen and her + mother into the private carriage and went. + + As soon as we landed at the door with the crowd the Governor came to + me& was very cordial. I “met up” with that charming Colonel Chapman + [we had known him on the previous visit] and other officers of the + regiment & had a good time. +</pre> + <p> + A few days later he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Thanks for your letter & for its contenting news of the situation in + that foreign & far-off & vaguely remembered country where you & + Loomis & Lark and other beloved friends are. + + I had a letter from Clara this morning. She is solicitous & wants + me well & watchfully taken care of. My, my, she ought to see Helen + & her parents & Claude administer that trust. Also she says, “I + hope to hear from you or Mr. Paine very soon.” + + I am writing her & I know you will respond to your part of her + prayer. She is pretty desolate now after Jean's emancipation—the + only kindness that God ever did that poor, unoffending child in all + her hard life. + + Send Clara a copy of Howells's gorgeous letter. +</pre> + <p> + The “gorgeous letter” mentioned was an appreciation of his + recent Bazar article, “The Turning-Point in My Life,” and here + follows: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + January 18, 1910. + + DEAR CLEMENS,—While your wonderful words are warm in my mind yet I + want to tell you what you know already: that you never wrote + anything greater, finer, than that turning-point paper of yours. + + I shall feel it honor enough if they put on my tombstone “He was + born in the same century and general section of Middle Western + country with Dr. S. L. Clemens, Oxon., and had his degree three + years before him through a mistake of the University.” + + I hope you are worse. You will never be riper for a purely + intellectual life, and it is a pity to have you lagging along with a + worn-out material body on top of your soul. + + Yours ever, + W. D. HOWELLS. +</pre> + <p> + On the margin of this letter Clemens had written: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I reckon this spontaneous outburst from the first critic of the day + is good to keep, ain't it, Paine? +</pre> + <p> + January 24th he wrote again of his contentment: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Life continues here the same as usual. There isn't a fault in it + —good times, good home, tranquil contentment all day & every day + without a break. I know familiarly several very satisfactory people + & meet them frequently: Mr. Hamilton, the Sloanes, Mr. & Mrs. Fells, + Miss Waterman, & so on. I shouldn't know how to go about bettering + my situation. +</pre> + <p> + On February 5th he wrote that the climate and condition of his health + might require him to stay in Bermuda pretty continuously, but that he + wished Stormfield kept open so that he might come to it at any time. And + he added: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yesterday Mr. Allen took us on an excursion in Mr. Hamilton's big + motor-boat. Present: Mrs. Allen, Mr. & Mrs. & Miss Sloane, Helen, + Mildred Howells, Claude, & me. Several hours' swift skimming over + ravishing blue seas, a brilliant sun; also a couple of hours of + picnicking & lazying under the cedars in a secluded place. + + The Orotava is arriving with 260 passengers—I shall get letters by + her, no doubt. + + P. S.—Please send me the Standard Unabridged that is on the table in + my bedroom. I have no dictionary here. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +There is no mention in any of these letters of his trouble; but he was +having occasional spasms of pain, though in that soft climate they +would seem to have come with less frequency, and there was so little to +disturb him, and much that contributed to his peace. Among the callers +at the Bay House to see him was Woodrow Wilson, and the two put in some +pleasant hours at miniature golf, “putting” on the Allen lawn. Of course +a catastrophe would come along now and then—such things could not +always be guarded against. In a letter toward the end of February he +wrote: It is 2.30 in the morning & I am writing because I can't sleep. + I can't sleep because a professional pianist is coming to-morrow + afternoon to play for me. My God! I wouldn't allow Paderewski or + Gabrilowitsch to do that. I would rather have a leg amputated. + I knew he was coming, but I never dreamed it was to play for me. + When I heard the horrible news 4 hours ago, be d—-d if I didn't + come near screaming. I meant to slip out and be absent, but now I + can't. Don't pray for me. The thing is just as d—-d bad as it can + be already. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens's love for music did not include the piano, except for very gentle + melodies, and he probably did not anticipate these from a professional + player. He did not report the sequel of the matter; but it is likely that + his imagination had discounted its tortures. Sometimes his letters were + pure nonsense. Once he sent a sheet, on one side of which was written: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + BAY HOUSE, + March s, 1910. + Received of S. L. C. + Two Dollars and Forty Cents + in return for my promise to believe everything he says + hereafter. + HELEN S. ALLEN. +</pre> + <p> + and on the reverse: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FOR SALE + + The proprietor of the hereinbefore mentioned Promise desires to part + with it on account of ill health and obliged to go away somewheres + so as to let it reciprocate, and will take any reasonable amount for + it above 2 percent of its face because experienced parties think it + will not keep but only a little while in this kind of weather & is a + kind of proppity that don't give a cuss for cold storage nohow. +</pre> + <p> + Clearly, however serious Mark Twain regarded his physical condition, he + did not allow it to make him gloomy. He wrote that matters were going + everywhere to his satisfaction; that Clara was happy; that his household + and business affairs no longer troubled him; that his personal + surroundings were of the pleasantest sort. Sometimes he wrote of what he + was reading, and once spoke particularly of Prof. William Lyon Phelps's + Literary Essays, which he said he had been unable to lay down until he had + finished the book.—[To Phelps himself he wrote: “I thank you + ever so much for the book, which I find charming—so charming, + indeed, that I read it through in a single night, & did not regret the + lost night's sleep. I am glad if I deserve what you have said about me; + & even if I don't I am proud & well contented, since you think I + deserve it.”] + </p> + <p> + So his days seemed full of comfort. But in March I noticed that he + generally dictated his letters, and once when he sent some small + photographs I thought he looked thinner and older. Still he kept up his + merriment. In one letter he said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + While the matter is in my mind I will remark that if you ever send + me another letter which is not paged at the top I will write you + with my own hand, so that I may use with utter freedom & without + embarrassment the kind of words which alone can describe such a + criminal, to wit, - - - -; you will have to put into words those + dashes because propriety will not allow me to do it myself in my + secretary's hearing. You are forgiven, but don't let it occur + again. +</pre> + <p> + He had still made no mention of his illness; but on the 25th of March he + wrote something of his plans for coming home. He had engaged passage on + the Bermudian for April 23d, he said; and he added: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + But don't tell anybody. I don't want it known. I may have to go + sooner if the pain in my breast does not mend its ways pretty + considerable. I don't want to die here, for this is an unkind place + for a person in that condition. I should have to lie in the + undertaker's cellar until the ship would remove me & it is dark down + there & unpleasant. + + The Colliers will meet me on the pier, & I may stay with them a week + or two before going home. It all depends on the breast pain. I + don't want to die there. I am growing more and more particular + about the place. +</pre> + <p> + But in the same letter he spoke of plans for the summer, suggesting that + we must look into the magic-lantern possibilities, so that library + entertainments could be given at Stormfield. I confess that this letter, + in spite of its light tone, made me uneasy, and I was tempted to sail for + Bermuda to bring him home. Three days later he wrote again: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I have been having a most uncomfortable time for the past four days + with that breast pain, which turns out to be an affection of the + heart, just as I originally suspected. The news from New York is to + the effect that non-bronchial weather has arrived there at last; + therefore, if I can get my breast trouble in traveling condition I + may sail for home a week or two earlier than has been proposed. +</pre> + <p> + The same mail that brought this brought a letter from Mr. Allen, who + frankly stated that matters had become very serious indeed. Mr. Clemens + had had some dangerous attacks, and the physicians considered his + condition critical. + </p> + <p> + These letters arrived April 1st. I went to New York at once and sailed + next morning. Before sailing I consulted with Dr. Quintard, who provided + me with some opiates and instructed me in the use of the hypodermic + needle. He also joined me in a cablegram to the Gabrilowitsches, then in + Italy, advising them to sail without delay. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0302" id="link2H_4_0302"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXCII. THE VOYAGE HOME + </h2> + <p> + I sent no word to Bermuda that I was coming, and when on the second + morning I arrived at Hamilton, I stepped quickly ashore from the tender + and hurried to Bay House. The doors were all open, as they usually are in + that summer island, and no one was visible. I was familiar with the place, + and, without knocking, I went through to the room occupied by Mark Twain. + As I entered I saw that he was alone, sitting in a large chair, clad in + the familiar dressing-gown. + </p> + <p> + Bay House stands upon the water, and the morning light, reflected in at + the window, had an unusual quality. He was not yet shaven, and he seemed + unnaturally pale and gray; certainly he was much thinner. I was too + startled, for the moment, to say anything. When he turned and saw me he + seemed a little dazed. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” he said, holding out his hand, “you didn't tell + us you were coming.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” I said, “it is rather sudden. I didn't quite like + the sound of your last letters.” + </p> + <p> + “But those were not serious,” he protested. “You + shouldn't have come on my account.” + </p> + <p> + I said then that I had come on my own account; that I had felt the need of + recreation, and had decided to run down and come home with him. + </p> + <p> + “That's—very—good,” he said, in his slow, gentle + fashion. “Now I'm glad to see you.” + </p> + <p> + His breakfast came in and he ate with an appetite. + </p> + <p> + When he had been shaved and freshly propped tip in his pillows it seemed + to me, after all, that I must have been mistaken in thinking him so + changed. Certainly he was thinner, but his color was fine, his eyes were + bright; he had no appearance of a man whose life was believed to be in + danger. He told me then of the fierce attacks he had gone through, how the + pains had torn at him, and how it had been necessary for him to have + hypodermic injections, which he amusingly termed “hypnotic + injunctions” and “subcutaneous applications,” and he had + his humor out of it, as of course he must have, even though Death should + stand there in person. + </p> + <p> + From Mr. and Mrs. Allen and from the physician I learned how slender had + been his chances and how uncertain were the days ahead. Mr. Allen had + already engaged passage on the Oceana for the 12th, and the one purpose + now was to get him physically in condition for the trip. + </p> + <p> + How devoted those kind friends had been to him! They had devised every + imaginable thing for his comfort. Mr. Allen had rigged an electric bell + which connected with his own room, so that he could be aroused instantly + at any hour of the night. Clemens had refused to have a nurse, for it was + only during the period of his extreme suffering that he needed any one, + and he did not wish to have a nurse always around. When the pains were + gone he was as bright and cheerful, and, seemingly, as well as ever. + </p> + <p> + On the afternoon of my arrival we drove out, as formerly, and he discussed + some of the old subjects in quite the old way. He had been rereading + Macaulay, he said, and spoke at considerable length of the hypocrisy and + intrigue of the English court under James II. He spoke, too, of the + Redding Library. I had sold for him that portion of the land where Jean's + farm-house had stood, and it was in his mind to use the money for some + sort of a memorial to Jean. I had written, suggesting that perhaps he + would like to put up a small library building, as the Adams lot faced the + corner where Jean had passed every day when she rode to the station for + the mail. He had been thinking this over, he said, and wished the idea + carried out. He asked me to write at once to his lawyer, Mr. Lark, and + have a paper prepared appointing trustees for a memorial library fund. + </p> + <p> + The pain did not trouble him that afternoon, nor during several succeeding + days. He was gay and quite himself, and he often went out on the lawn; but + we did not drive out again. For the most part, he sat propped up in his + bed, reading or smoking, or talking in the old way; and as I looked at him + he seemed so full of vigor and the joy of life that I could not convince + myself that he would not outlive us all. I found that he had been really + very much alive during those three months—too much for his own good, + sometimes—for he had not been careful of his hours or his diet, and + had suffered in consequence. + </p> + <p> + He had not been writing, though he had scribbled some playful valentines + and he had amused himself one day by preparing a chapter of advice—for + me it appeared—which, after reading it aloud to the Allens and + receiving their approval, he declared he intended to have printed for my + benefit. As it would seem to have been the last bit of continued writing + he ever did, and because it is characteristic and amusing, a few + paragraphs may be admitted. The “advice” is concerning + deportment on reaching the Gate which St. Peter is supposed to guard— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Upon arrival do not speak to St. Peter until spoken to. It is not + your place to begin. + + Do not begin any remark with “Say.” + + When applying for a ticket avoid trying to make conversation. If + you must talk let the weather alone. St. Peter cares not a damn for + the weather. And don't ask him what time the 4.30 train goes; there + aren't any trains in heaven, except through trains, and the less + information you get about them the better for you. + + You can ask him for his autograph—there is no harm in that—but be + careful and don't remark that it is one of the penalties of + greatness. He has heard that before. + + Don't try to kodak him. Hell is full of people who have made that + mistake. + + Leave your dog outside. Heaven goes by favor. If it went by merit + you would stay out and the dog would go in. + + You will be wanting to slip down at night and smuggle water to those + poor little chaps (the infant damned), but don't you try it. You + would be caught, and nobody in heaven would respect you after that. + + Explain to Helen why I don't come. If you can. +</pre> + <p> + There were several pages of this counsel. One paragraph was written in + shorthand. I meant to ask him to translate it; but there were many other + things to think of, and I did not remember. + </p> + <p> + I spent most of each day with him, merely sitting by the bed and reading + while he himself read or dozed. His nights were wakeful—he found it + easier to sleep by day—and he liked to think that some one was + there. He became interested in Hardy's Jude, and spoke of it with high + approval, urging me to read it. He dwelt a good deal on the morals of it, + or rather on the lack of them. He followed the tale to the end, finishing + it the afternoon before we sailed. It was his last continuous reading. I + noticed, when he slept, that his breathing was difficult, and I could see + from day to day that he did not improve; but each evening he would be gay + and lively, and he liked the entire family to gather around, while he + became really hilarious over the various happenings of the day. It was + only a few days before we sailed that the very severe attacks returned. + The night of the 8th was a hard one. The doctors were summoned, and it was + only after repeated injections of morphine that the pain had been eased. + When I returned in the early morning he was sitting in his chair trying to + sing, after his old morning habit. He took my hand and said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, I had a picturesque night. Every pain I had was on + exhibition.” + </p> + <p> + He looked out the window at the sunlight on the bay and green dotted + islands. “'Sparkling and bright in the liquid light,'” he + quoted. “That's Hoffman. Anything left of Hoffman?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “I must watch for the Bermudian and see if she salutes,” he + said, presently. “The captain knows I am here sick, and he blows two + short whistles just as they come up behind that little island. Those are + for me.” + </p> + <p> + He said he could breathe easier if he could lean forward, and I placed a + card-table in front of him. His breakfast came in, and a little later he + became quite gay. He drifted to Macaulay again, and spoke of King James's + plot to assassinate William II., and how the clergy had brought themselves + to see that there was no difference between killing a king in battle and + by assassination. He had taken his seat by the window to watch for the + Bermudian. She came down the bay presently, her bright red stacks towering + vividly above the green island. It was a brilliant morning, the sky and + the water a marvelous blue. He watched her anxiously and without speaking. + Suddenly there were two white puffs of steam, and two short, hoarse notes + went up from her. + </p> + <p> + “Those are for me,” he said, his face full of contentment. + “Captain Fraser does not forget me.” + </p> + <p> + There followed another bad night. My room was only a little distance away, + and Claude came for me. I do not think any of us thought he would survive + it; but he slept at last, or at least dozed. In the morning he said: + </p> + <p> + “That breast pain stands watch all night and the short breath all + day. I am losing enough sleep to supply a worn-out army. I want a jugful + of that hypnotic injunction every night and every morning.” + </p> + <p> + We began to fear now that he would not be able to sail on the 12th; but by + great good-fortune he had wonderfully improved by the 12th, so much so + that I began to believe, if once he could be in Stormfield, where the air + was more vigorous, he might easily survive the summer. The humid + atmosphere of the season increased the difficulty of his breathing. + </p> + <p> + That evening he was unusually merry. Mr. and Mrs. Allen and Helen and + myself went in to wish him good night. He was loath to let us leave, but + was reminded that he would sail in the morning, and that the doctor had + insisted that he must be quiet and lie still in bed and rest. He was never + one to be very obedient. A little later Mrs. Allen and I, in the + sitting-room, heard some one walking softly outside on the veranda. We + went out there, and he was marching up and down in his dressing-gown as + unconcerned as if he were not an invalid at all. He hadn't felt sleepy, he + said, and thought a little exercise would do him good. Perhaps it did, for + he slept soundly that night—a great blessing. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Allen had chartered a special tug to come to Bay House landing in the + morning and take him to the ship. He was carried in a little hand-chair to + the tug, and all the way out he seemed light-spirited, anything but an + invalid: The sailors carried him again in the chair to his state-room, and + he bade those dear Bermuda friends good-by, and we sailed away. + </p> + <p> + As long as I remember anything I shall remember the forty-eight hours of + that homeward voyage. It was a brief two days as time is measured; but as + time is lived it has taken its place among those unmeasured periods by the + side of which even years do not count. + </p> + <p> + At first he seemed quite his natural self, and asked for a catalogue of + the ship's library, and selected some memoirs of the Countess of Cardigan + for his reading. He asked also for the second volume of Carlyle's French + Revolution, which he had with him. But we ran immediately into the more + humid, more oppressive air of the Gulf Stream, and his breathing became at + first difficult, then next to impossible. There were two large port-holes, + which I opened; but presently he suggested that it would be better + outside. It was only a step to the main-deck, and no passengers were + there. I had a steamer-chair brought, and with Claude supported him to it + and bundled him with rugs; but it had grown damp and chilly, and his + breathing did not improve. It seemed to me that the end might come at any + moment, and this thought was in his mind, too, for once in the effort for + breath he managed to say: + </p> + <p> + “I am going—I shall be gone in a moment.” + </p> + <p> + Breath came; but I realized then that even his cabin was better than this. + I steadied him back to his berth and shut out most of that deadly + dampness. He asked for the “hypnotic 'injunction” (for his + humor never left him), and though it was not yet the hour prescribed I + could not deny it. It was impossible for him to lie down, even to recline, + without great distress. The opiate made him drowsy, and he longed for the + relief of sleep; but when it seemed about to possess him the struggle for + air would bring him upright. + </p> + <p> + During the more comfortable moments he spoke quite in the old way, and + time and again made an effort to read, and reached for his pipe or a cigar + which lay in the little berth hammock at his side. I held the match, and + he would take a puff or two with satisfaction. Then the peace of it would + bring drowsiness, and while I supported him there would come a few + moments, perhaps, of precious sleep. Only a few moments, for the devil of + suffocation was always lying in wait to bring him back for fresh tortures. + Over and over again this was repeated, varied by him being steadied on his + feet or sitting on the couch opposite the berth. In spite of his + suffering, two dominant characteristics remained—the sense of humor, + and tender consideration for another. + </p> + <p> + Once when the ship rolled and his hat fell from the hook, and made the + circuit of the cabin floor, he said: + </p> + <p> + “The ship is passing the hat.” + </p> + <p> + Again he said: + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry for you, Paine, but I can't help it—I can't hurry + this dying business. Can't you give me enough of the hypnotic injunction + to put an end to me?” + </p> + <p> + He thought if I could arrange the pillows so he could sit straight up it + would not be necessary to support him, and then I could sit on the couch + and read while he tried to doze. He wanted me to read Jude, he said, so we + could talk about it. I got all the pillows I could and built them up + around him, and sat down with the book, and this seemed to give him + contentment. He would doze off a little and then come up with a start, his + piercing, agate eyes searching me out to see if I was still there. Over + and over—twenty times in an hour—this was repeated. When I + could deny him no longer I administered the opiate, but it never + completely possessed him or gave him entire relief. + </p> + <p> + As I looked at him there, so reduced in his estate, I could not but + remember all the labor of his years, and all the splendid honor which the + world had paid to him. Something of this may have entered his mind, too, + for once, when I offered him some of the milder remedies which we had + brought, he said: + </p> + <p> + “After forty years of public effort I have become just a target for + medicines.” + </p> + <p> + The program of change from berth to the floor, from floor to the couch, + from the couch back to the berth among the pillows, was repeated again and + again, he always thinking of the trouble he might be making, rarely + uttering any complaint; but once he said: + </p> + <p> + “I never guessed that I was not going to outlive John Bigelow.” + And again: + </p> + <p> + “This is such a mysterious disease. If we only had a bill of + particulars we'd have something to swear at.” + </p> + <p> + Time and again he picked up Carlyle or the Cardigan Memoirs, and read, or + seemed to read, a few lines; but then the drowsiness would come and the + book would fall. Time and again he attempted to smoke, or in his drowse + simulated the motion of placing a cigar to his lips and puffing in the old + way. + </p> + <p> + Two dreams beset him in his momentary slumber—one of a play in which + the title-role of the general manager was always unfilled. He spoke of + this now and then when it had passed, and it seemed to amuse him. The + other was a discomfort: a college assembly was attempting to confer upon + him some degree which he did not want. Once, half roused, he looked at me + searchingly and asked: + </p> + <p> + “Isn't there something I can resign and be out of all this? They + keep trying to confer that degree upon me and I don't want it.” Then + realizing, he said: “I am like a bird in a cage: always expecting to + get out, and always beaten back by the wires.” And, somewhat later: + “Oh, it is such a mystery, and it takes so long.” + </p> + <p> + Toward the evening of the first day, when it grew dark outside, he asked: + </p> + <p> + “How long have we been on this voyage?” + </p> + <p> + I answered that this was the end of the first day. + </p> + <p> + “How many more are there?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Only one, and two nights.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll never make it,” he said. “It's an eternity.” + </p> + <p> + “But we must on Clara's account,” I told him, and I estimated + that Clara would be more than half-way across the ocean by now. + </p> + <p> + “It is a losing race,” he said; “no ship can outsail + death.” + </p> + <p> + It has been written—I do not know with what proof—that certain + great dissenters have recanted with the approach of death—have + become weak, and afraid to ignore old traditions in the face of the great + mystery. I wish to write here that Mark Twain, as he neared the end, + showed never a single tremor of fear or even of reluctance. I have dwelt + upon these hours when suffering was upon him, and death the imminent + shadow, in order to show that at the end he was as he had always been, + neither more nor less, and never less than brave. + </p> + <p> + Once, during a moment when he was comfortable and quite himself, he said, + earnestly: + </p> + <p> + “When I seem to be dying I don't want to be stimulated back to life. + I want to be made comfortable to go.” + </p> + <p> + There was not a vestige of hesitation; there was no grasping at straws, no + suggestion of dread. + </p> + <p> + Somehow those two days and nights went by. Once, when he was partially + relieved by the opiate, I slept, while Claude watched; and again, in the + fading end of the last night, when we had passed at length into the cold, + bracing northern air, and breath had come back to him, and with it sleep. + </p> + <p> + Relatives, physicians, and news-gatherers were at the dock to welcome him. + He was awake, and the northern air had brightened him, though it was the + chill, I suppose, that brought on the pains in his breast, which, + fortunately, he had escaped during the voyage. It was not a prolonged + attack, and it was, blessedly, the last one. + </p> + <p> + An invalid-carriage had been provided, and a compartment secured on the + afternoon express to Redding—the same train that had taken him there + two years before. Dr. Robert H. Halsey and Dr. Edward Quintard attended + him, and he made the journey really in cheerful comfort, for he could + breathe now, and in the relief came back old interests. Half reclining on + the couch, he looked through the afternoon papers. It happened curiously + that Charles Harvey Genung, who, something more than four years earlier, + had been so largely responsible for my association with Mark Twain, was on + the same train, in the same coach, bound for his country-place at New + Hartford. + </p> + <p> + Lounsbury was waiting with the carriage, and on that still, sweet April + evening we drove him to Stormfield much as we had driven him two years + before. Now and then he mentioned the apparent backwardness of the season, + for only a few of the trees were beginning to show their green. As we + drove into the lane that led to the Stormfield entrance, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Can we see where you have built your billiard-room?” + </p> + <p> + The gable showed above the trees, and I pointed it out to him. + </p> + <p> + “It looks quite imposing,” he said. + </p> + <p> + I think it was the last outside interest he ever showed in anything. He + had been carried from the ship and from the train, but when we drew up to + Stormfield, where Mrs. Paine, with Katie Leary and others of the + household, was waiting to greet him, he stepped from the carriage alone + with something of his old lightness, and with all his old courtliness, and + offered each one his hand. Then, in the canvas chair which we had brought, + Claude and I carried him up-stairs to his room and delivered him to the + physicians, and to the comforts and blessed air of home. This was Thursday + evening, April 14, 1910. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0303" id="link2H_4_0303"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXCIII. THE RETURN TO THE INVISIBLE + </h2> + <p> + There would be two days more before Ossip and Clara Gabrilowitsch could + arrive. Clemens remained fairly bright and comfortable during this + interval, though he clearly was not improving. The physicians denied him + the morphine, now, as he no longer suffered acutely. But he craved it, and + once, when I went in, he said, rather mournfully: + </p> + <p> + “They won't give me the subcutaneous any more.” + </p> + <p> + It was Sunday morning when Clara came. He was cheerful and able to talk + quite freely. He did not dwell upon his condition, I think, but spoke + rather of his plans for the summer. At all events, he did not then suggest + that he counted the end so near; but a day later it became evident to all + that his stay was very brief. His breathing was becoming heavier, though + it seemed not to give him much discomfort. His articulation also became + affected. I think the last continuous talking he did was to Dr. Halsey on + the evening of April 17th—the day of Clara's arrival. A mild opiate + had been administered, and he said he wished to talk himself to sleep. He + recalled one of his old subjects, Dual Personality, and discussed various + instances that flitted through his mind—Jekyll and Hyde phases in + literature and fact. He became drowsier as he talked. He said at last: + </p> + <p> + “This is a peculiar kind of disease. It does not invite you to read; + it does not invite you to be read to; it does not invite you to talk, nor + to enjoy any of the usual sick-room methods of treatment. What kind of a + disease is that? Some kinds of sicknesses have pleasant features about + them. You can read and smoke and have only to lie still.” + </p> + <p> + And a little later he added: + </p> + <p> + “It is singular, very singular, the laws of mentality—vacuity. + I put out my hand to reach a book or newspaper which I have been reading + most glibly, and it isn't there, not a suggestion of it.” + </p> + <p> + He coughed violently, and afterward commented: + </p> + <p> + “If one gets to meddling with a cough it very soon gets the upper + hand and is meddling with you. That is my opinion—of seventy-four + years' growth.” + </p> + <p> + The news of his condition, everywhere published, brought great heaps of + letters, but he could not see them. A few messages were reported to him. + At intervals he read a little. Suetonius and Carlyle lay on the bed beside + him, and he would pick them up as the spirit moved him and read a + paragraph or a page. Sometimes, when I saw him thus-the high color still + in his face, and the clear light in his eyes—I said: “It is + not reality. He is not going to die.” On Tuesday, the 19th, he asked + me to tell Clara to come and sing to him. It was a heavy requirement, but + she somehow found strength to sing some of the Scotch airs which he loved, + and he seemed soothed and comforted. When she came away he bade her + good-by, saying that he might not see her again. + </p> + <p> + But he lingered through the next day and the next. His mind was wandering + a little on Wednesday, and his speech became less and less articulate; but + there were intervals when he was quite clear, quite vigorous, and he + apparently suffered little. We did not know it, then, but the mysterious + messenger of his birth-year, so long anticipated by him, appeared that + night in the sky.—[The perihelion of Halley's Comet for 1835 was + November 16th; for 1910 it was April 20th.] + </p> + <p> + On Thursday morning, the 21st, his mind was generally clear, and it was + said by the nurses that he read a little from one of the volumes on his + bed, from the Suetonius, or from one of the volumes of Carlyle. Early in + the forenoon he sent word by Clara that he wished to see me, and when I + came in he spoke of two unfinished manuscripts which he wished me to + “throw away,” as he briefly expressed it, for he had not many + words left now. I assured him that I would take care of them, and he + pressed my hand. It was his last word to me. + </p> + <p> + Once or twice that morning he tried to write some request which he could + not put into intelligible words. + </p> + <p> + And once he spoke to Gabrilowitsch, who, he said, could understand him + better than the others. Most of the time he dozed. + </p> + <p> + Somewhat after midday, when Clara was by him, he roused up and took her + hand, and seemed to speak with less effort. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by,” he said, and Dr. Quintard, who was standing near, + thought he added: “If we meet”—but the words were very + faint. He looked at her for a little while, without speaking, then he sank + into a doze, and from it passed into a deeper slumber, and did not heed us + any more. + </p> + <p> + Through that peaceful spring afternoon the life-wave ebbed lower and + lower. It was about half past six, and the sun lay just on the horizon + when Dr. Quintard noticed that the breathing, which had gradually become + more subdued, broke a little. There was no suggestion of any struggle. The + noble head turned a little to one side, there was a fluttering sigh, and + the breath that had been unceasing through seventy-four tumultuous years + had stopped forever. + </p> + <p> + He had entered into the estate envied so long. In his own words—the + words of one of his latest memoranda: + </p> + <p> + “He had arrived at the dignity of death—the only earthly + dignity that is not artificial—the only safe one. The others are + traps that can beguile to humiliation. + </p> + <p> + “Death—the only immortal who treats us all alike, whose pity + and whose peace and whose refuge are for all—the soiled and the pure—the + rich and the poor—the loved and the unloved.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0304" id="link2H_4_0304"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXCIV. THE LAST RITES + </h2> + <p> + It is not often that a whole world mourns. Nations have often mourned a + hero—and races—but perhaps never before had the entire world + really united in tender sorrow for the death of any man. + </p> + <p> + In one of his aphorisms he wrote: “Let us endeavor so to live that + when we come to die even the undertaker will be sorry.” And it was + thus that Mark Twain himself had lived. + </p> + <p> + No man had ever so reached the heart of the world, and one may not even + attempt to explain just why. Let us only say that it was because he was so + limitlessly human that every other human heart, in whatever sphere or + circumstance, responded to his touch. From every remote corner of the + globe the cables of condolence swept in; every printed sheet in + Christendom was filled with lavish tribute; pulpits forgot his heresies + and paid him honor. No king ever died that received so rich a homage as + his. To quote or to individualize would be to cheapen this vast offering. + </p> + <p> + We took him to New York to the Brick Church, and Dr. Henry van Dyke spoke + only a few simple words, and Joseph Twichell came from Hartford and + delivered brokenly a prayer from a heart wrung with double grief, for + Harmony, his wife, was nearing the journey's end, and a telegram that + summoned him to her death-bed came before the services ended. + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain, dressed in the white he loved so well, lay there with the + nobility of death upon him, while a multitude of those who loved him + passed by and looked at his face for the last time. The flowers, of which + so many had been sent, were banked around him; but on the casket itself + lay a single laurel wreath which Dan Beard and his wife had woven from the + laurel which grows on Stormfield hill. He was never more beautiful than as + he lay there, and it was an impressive scene to see those thousands file + by, regard him for a moment gravely, thoughtfully, and pass on. All sorts + were there, rich and poor; some crossed themselves, some saluted, some + paused a little to take a closer look; but no one offered even to pick a + flower. Howells came, and in his book he says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I looked a moment at the face I knew so well; and it was patient + with the patience I had so often seen in it: something of a puzzle, + a great silent dignity, an assent to what must be from the depths of + a nature whose tragical seriousness broke in the laughter which the + unwise took for the whole of him. +</pre> + <p> + That night we went with him to Elmira, and next day—a somber day of + rain—he lay in those stately parlors that had seen his wedding-day, + and where Susy had lain, and Mrs. Clemens, and Jean, while Dr. Eastman + spoke the words of peace which separate us from our mortal dead. Then in + the quiet, steady rain of that Sunday afternoon we laid him beside those + others, where he sleeps well, though some have wished that, like De Soto, + he might have been laid to rest in the bed of that great river which must + always be associated with his name. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0305" id="link2H_4_0305"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXCV. MARK TWAIN'S RELIGION + </h2> + <p> + There is such a finality about death; however interesting it may be as an + experience, one cannot discuss it afterward with one's friends. I have + thought it a great pity that Mark Twain could not discuss, with Howells + say, or with Twichell, the sensations and the particulars of the change, + supposing there be a recognizable change, in that transition of which we + have speculated so much, with such slender returns. No one ever debated + the undiscovered country more than he. In his whimsical, semi-serious + fashion he had considered all the possibilities of the future state—orthodox + and otherwise—and had drawn picturesquely original conclusions. He + had sent Captain Stormfield in a dream to report the aspects of the early + Christian heaven. He had examined the scientific aspects of the more + subtle philosophies. He had considered spiritualism, transmigration, the + various esoteric doctrines, and in the end he had logically made up his + mind that death concludes all, while with that less logical hunger which + survives in every human heart he had never ceased to expect an existence + beyond the grave. His disbelief and his pessimism were identical in their + structure. They were of his mind; never of his heart. + </p> + <p> + Once a woman said to him: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Clemens, you are not a pessimist, you only think you are.” + And she might have added, with equal force and truth: + </p> + <p> + “You are not a disbeliever in immortality; you only think you are.” + </p> + <p> + Nothing could have conveyed more truly his attitude toward life and death. + His belief in God, the Creator, was absolute; but it was a God far removed + from the Creator of his early teaching. Every man builds his God according + to his own capacities. Mark Twain's God was of colossal proportions—so + vast, indeed, that the constellated stars were but molecules in His veins—a + God as big as space itself. + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain had many moods, and he did not always approve of his own God; + but when he altered his conception, it was likely to be in the direction + of enlargement—a further removal from the human conception, and the + problem of what we call our lives. + </p> + <p> + In 1906 he wrote:—[See also 1870, chap. lxxviii; 1899, chap. ccv; + and various talks, 1906-07, etc.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Let us now consider the real God, the genuine God, the great God, + the sublime and supreme God, the authentic Creator of the real + universe, whose remotenesses are visited by comets only comets unto + which incredible distant Neptune is merely an out post, a Sandy Hook + to homeward-bound specters of the deeps of space that have not + glimpsed it before for generations—a universe not made with hands + and suited to an astronomical nursery, but spread abroad through the + illimitable reaches of space by the flat of the real God just + mentioned, by comparison with whom the gods whose myriads infest the + feeble imaginations of men are as a swarm of gnats scattered and + lost in the infinitudes of the empty sky. +</pre> + <p> + At an earlier period-the date is not exactly fixable, but the stationery + used and the handwriting suggest the early eighties—he set down a + few concisely written pages of conclusions—conclusions from which he + did not deviate materially in after years. The document follows: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I believe in God the Almighty. + + I do not believe He has ever sent a message to man by anybody, or + delivered one to him by word of mouth, or made Himself visible to + mortal eyes at any time in any place. + + I believe that the Old and New Testaments were imagined and written + by man, and that no line in them was authorized by God, much less + inspired by Him. + + I think the goodness, the justice, and the mercy of God are + manifested in His works: I perceive that they are manifested toward + me in this life; the logical conclusion is that they will be + manifested toward me in the life to come, if there should be one. + + I do not believe in special providences. I believe that the + universe is governed by strict and immutable laws: If one man's + family is swept away by a pestilence and another man's spared it is + only the law working: God is not interfering in that small matter, + either against the one man or in favor of the other. + + I cannot see how eternal punishment hereafter could accomplish any + good end, therefore I am not able to believe in it. To chasten a + man in order to perfect him might be reasonable enough; to + annihilate him when he shall have proved himself incapable of + reaching perfection might be reasonable enough; but to roast him + forever for the mere satisfaction of seeing him roast would not be + reasonable—even the atrocious God imagined by the Jews would tire + of the spectacle eventually. + + There may be a hereafter and there may not be. I am wholly + indifferent about it. If I am appointed to live again I feel sure + it will be for some more sane and useful purpose than to flounder + about for ages in a lake of fire and brimstone for having violated a + confusion of ill-defined and contradictory rules said (but not + evidenced) to be of divine institution. If annihilation is to + follow death I shall not be aware of the annihilation, and therefore + shall not care a straw about it. + + I believe that the world's moral laws are the outcome of the world's + experience. It needed no God to come down out of heaven to tell men + that murder and theft and the other immoralities were bad, both for + the individual who commits them and for society which suffers from + them. + + If I break all these moral laws I cannot see how I injure God by it, + for He is beyond the reach of injury from me—I could as easily + injure a planet by throwing mud at it. It seems to me that my + misconduct could only injure me and other men. I cannot benefit God + by obeying these moral laws—I could as easily benefit the planet by + withholding my mud. (Let these sentences be read in the light of + the fact that I believe I have received moral laws only from man + —none whatever from God.) Consequently I do not see why I should be + either punished or rewarded hereafter for the deeds I do here. +</pre> + <p> + If the tragedies of life shook his faith in the goodness and justice and + the mercy of God as manifested toward himself, he at any rate never + questioned that the wider scheme of the universe was attuned to the + immutable law which contemplates nothing less than absolute harmony. I + never knew him to refer to this particular document; but he never + destroyed it and never amended it, nor is it likely that he would have + done either had it been presented to him for consideration even during the + last year of his life. + </p> + <p> + He was never intentionally dogmatic. In a memorandum on a fly-leaf of + Moncure D. Conway's Sacred Anthology he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + RELIGION +</pre> + <p> + The easy confidence with which I know another man's religion is folly + teaches me to suspect that my own is also. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MARK TWAIN, 19th Cent. A.D. +</pre> + <p> + And in another note: + </p> + <p> + I would not interfere with any one's religion, either to strengthen it or + to weaken it. I am not able to believe one's religion can affect his + hereafter one way or the other, no matter what that religion maybe. But it + may easily be a great comfort to him in this life hence it is a valuable + possession to him. + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain's religion was a faith too wide for doctrines—a + benevolence too limitless for creeds. From the beginning he strove against + oppression, sham, and evil in every form. He despised meanness; he + resented with every drop of blood in him anything that savored of + persecution or a curtailment of human liberties. It was a religion + identified with his daily life and his work. He lived as he wrote, and he + wrote as he believed. His favorite weapon was humor—good-humor—with + logic behind it. A sort of glorified truth it was truth wearing a smile of + gentleness, hence all the more quickly heeded. + </p> + <p> + “He will be remembered with the great humorists of all time,” + says Howells, “with Cervantes, with Swift, or with any others worthy + of his company; none of them was his equal in humanity.” + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain understood the needs of men because he was himself supremely + human. In one of his dictations he said: + </p> + <p> + I have found that there is no ingredient of the race which I do not + possess in either a small or a large way. When it is small, as compared + with the same ingredient in somebody else, there is still enough of it for + all the purposes of examination. + </p> + <p> + With his strength he had inherited the weaknesses of our kind. With him, + as with another, a myriad of dreams and schemes and purposes daily flitted + by. With him, as with another, the spirit of desire led him often to a + high mountain-top, and was not rudely put aside, but lingeringly—and + often invited to return. With him, as with another, a crowd of jealousies + and resentments, and wishes for the ill of others, daily went seething and + scorching along the highways of the soul. With him, as with another, + regret, remorse, and shame stood at the bedside during long watches of the + night; and in the end, with him, the better thing triumphed—forgiveness + and generosity and justice—in a word, Humanity. Certain of his + aphorisms and memoranda each in itself constitutes an epitome of Mark + Twain's creed. His paraphrase, “When in doubt tell the truth,” + is one of these, and he embodied his whole attitude toward Infinity when + in one of his stray pencilings he wrote: + </p> + <p> + Why, even poor little ungodlike man holds himself responsible for the + welfare of his child to the extent of his ability. It is all that we + require of God. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0306" id="link2H_4_0306"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CCXCVI. POSTSCRIPT + </h2> + <p> + Every life is a drama—a play in all its particulars; comedy, farce, + tragedy—all the elements are there. To examine in detail any life, + however conspicuous or obscure, is to become amazed not only at the + inevitable sequence of events, but at the interlinking of details, often + far removed, into a marvelously intricate pattern which no art can hope to + reproduce, and can only feebly imitate. + </p> + <p> + The biographer may reconstruct an episode, present a picture, or reflect a + mood by which the reader is enabled to feel something of the glow of + personality and know, perhaps, a little of the substance of the past. In + so far as the historian can accomplish this his work is a success. At best + his labor will be pathetically incomplete, for whatever its detail and its + resemblance to life, these will record mainly but an outward expression, + behind which was the mighty sweep and tumult of unwritten thought, the + overwhelming proportion of any life, which no other human soul can ever + really know. + </p> + <p> + Mark Twain's appearance on the stage of the world was a succession of + dramatic moments. He was always exactly in the setting. Whatever he did, + or whatever came to him, was timed for the instant of greatest effect. At + the end he was more widely observed and loved and honored than ever + before, and at the right moment and in the right manner he died. + </p> + <p> + How little one may tell of such a life as his! He traveled always such a + broad and brilliant highway, with plumes flying and crowds following + after. Such a whirling panorama of life, and death, and change! I have + written so much, and yet I have put so much aside—and often the best + things, it seemed afterward, perhaps because each in its way was best and + the variety infinite. One may only strive to be faithful—and I would + have made it better if I could. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + APPENDIX. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_APPEa" id="link2H_APPEa"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APPENDIX A + </h2> + <h3> + LETTER FROM ORION CLEMENS TO MISS WOOD CONCERNING HENRY CLEMENS + </h3> + <p> + (See Chapter xxvi) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + KEOKUK, Iowa, October 3, 1858. +</pre> + <p> + MISS WOOD,—My mother having sent me your kind letter, with a request + that myself and wife should write to you, I hasten to do so. + </p> + <p> + In my memory I can go away back to Henry's infancy; I see his large, blue + eyes intently regarding my father when he rebuked him for his credulity in + giving full faith to the boyish idea of planting his marbles, expecting a + crop therefrom; then comes back the recollection of the time when, + standing we three alone by our father's grave, I told them always to + remember that brothers should be kind to each other; afterward I see Henry + returning from school with his books for the last time. He must go into my + printing-office. He learned rapidly. A word of encouragement or a word of + discouragement told upon his organization electrically. I could see the + effects in his day's work. Sometimes I would say, “Henry!” He + would stand full front with his eyes upon mine—all attention. If I + commanded him to do something, without a word he was off instantly, + probably in a run. If a cat was to be drowned or shot Sam (though + unwilling yet firm) was selected for the work. If a stray kitten was to be + fed and taken care of Henry was expected to attend to it, and he would + faithfully do so. So they grew up, and many was the grave lecture + commenced by ma, to the effect that Sam was misleading and spoiling Henry. + But the lectures were never concluded, for Sam would reply with a + witticism, or dry, unexpected humor, that would drive the lecture clean + out of my mother's mind, and change it to a laugh. Those were happier + days. My mother was as lively as any girl of sixteen. She is not so now. + And sister Pamela I have described in describing Henry; for she was his + counterpart. The blow falls crushingly on her. But the boys grew up—Sam + a rugged, brave, quick-tempered, generous-hearted fellow, Henry quiet, + observing, thoughtful, leaning on Sam for protection; Sam and I too + leaning on him for knowledge picked up from conversation or books, for + Henry seemed never to forget anything, and devoted much of his leisure + hours to reading. + </p> + <p> + Henry is gone! His death was horrible! How I could have sat by him, hung + over him, watched day and night every change of expression, and ministered + to every want in my power that I could discover. This was denied to me, + but Sam, whose organization is such as to feel the utmost extreme of every + feeling, was there. Both his capacity of enjoyment and his capacity of + suffering are greater than mine; and knowing how it would have affected me + to see so sad a scene, I can somewhat appreciate Sam's sufferings. In this + time of great trouble, when my two brothers, whose heartstrings have + always been a part of my own, were suffering the utmost stretch of mortal + endurance, you were there, like a good angel, to aid and console, and I + bless and thank you for it with my whole heart. I thank all who helped + them then; I thank them for the flowers they sent to Henry, for the tears + that fell for their sufferings, and when he died, and all of them for all + the kind attentions they bestowed upon the poor boys. We thank the + physicians, and we shall always gratefully remember the kindness of the + gentleman who at so much expense to himself enabled us to deposit Henry's + remains by our father. + </p> + <p> + With many kind wishes for your future welfare, I remain your earnest + friend, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Respectfully, + ORION CLEMENS. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_APPEb" id="link2H_APPEb"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APPENDIX B + </h2> + <h3> + MARK TWAIN'S BURLESQUE OF CAPTAIN ISAIAH SELLERS + </h3> + <p> + (See Chapter xxvii) + </p> + <p> + The item which served as a text for the “Sergeant Fathom” + communication was as follows: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + VICKSBURG, May 4, 1859. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +My opinion for the benefit of the citizens of New Orleans: The water is +higher this far up than it has been since 1815. My opinion is that the +water will be four feet deep in Canal Street before the first of next +June. Mrs. Turner's plantation at the head of Big Black Island is all +under water, and it has not been since 1815. I. SELLERS.—[Captain Sellers, as + in this case, sometimes signed + his own name to his + communications.] +</pre> + <p> + THE BURLESQUE INTRODUCTORY + </p> + <p> + Our friend Sergeant Fathom, one of the oldest cub pilots on the river, and + now on the Railroad Line steamer Trombone, sends us a rather bad account + concerning the state of the river. Sergeant Fathom is a “cub” + of much experience, and although we are loath to coincide in his view of + the matter, we give his note a place in our columns, only hoping that his + prophecy will not be verified in this instance. While introducing the + Sergeant, “we consider it but simple justice (we quote from a friend + of his) to remark that he is distinguished for being, in pilot phrase, + 'close,' as well as superhumanly 'safe.'” It is a well-known fact + that he has made fourteen hundred and fifty trips in the New Orleans and + St. Louis trade without causing serious damage to a steamboat. This + astonishing success is attributed to the fact that he seldom runs his boat + after early candle-light. It is related of the Sergeant that upon one + occasion he actually ran the chute of Glasscock's Island, down-stream, in + the night, and at a time, too, when the river was scarcely more than bank + full. His method of accomplishing this feat proves what we have just said + of his “safeness”—he sounded the chute first, and then + built a fire at the head of the island to run by. As to the Sergeant's + “closeness,” we have heard it whispered that he once went up + to the right of the “Old Hen,”—[Glasscock's Island and + the “Old Hen” were phenomenally safe places.]—but this + is probably a pardonable little exaggeration, prompted by the love and + admiration in which he is held by various ancient dames of his + acquaintance (for albeit the Sergeant may have already numbered the + allotted years of man, still his form is erect, his step is firm, his hair + retains its sable hue, and, more than all, he hath a winning way about + him, an air of docility and sweetness, if you will, and a smoothness of + speech, together with an exhaustless fund of funny sayings; and, lastly, + an overflowing stream, without beginning, or middle, or end, of + astonishing reminiscences of the ancient Mississippi, which, taken + together, form a 'tout ensemble' which is sufficient excuse for the tender + epithet which is, by common consent, applied to him by all those ancient + dames aforesaid, of “che-arming creature!”). As the Sergeant + has been longer on the river, and is better acquainted with it than any + other “cub” extant, his remarks are entitled to far more + consideration, and are always read with the deepest interest by high and + low, rich and poor, from “Kiho” to Kamschatka, for let it be + known that his fame extends to the uttermost parts of the earth: + </p> + <p> + THE COMMUNICATION + </p> + <p> + R.R. Steamer Trombone, VICKSBURG, May 8, 1859. + </p> + <p> + The river from New Orleans up to Natchez is higher than it has been since + the niggers were executed (which was in the fall of 1813) and my opinion + is that if the rise continues at this rate the water will be on the roof + of the St. Charles Hotel before the middle of January. The point at Cairo, + which has not even been moistened by the river since 1813, is now entirely + under water. + </p> + <p> + However, Mr. Editor, the inhabitants of the Mississippi Valley should not + act precipitately and sell their plantations at a sacrifice on account of + this prophecy of mine, for I shall proceed to convince them of a great + fact in regard to this matter, viz.: that the tendency of the Mississippi + is to rise less and less high every year (with an occasional variation of + the rule), that such has been the case for many centuries, and eventually + that it will cease to rise at all. Therefore, I would hint to the + planters, as we say in an innocent little parlor game commonly called + “draw,” that if they can only “stand the rise” + this time they may enjoy the comfortable assurance that the old river's + banks will never hold a “full” again during their natural + lives. + </p> + <p> + In the summer of 1763 I came down the river on the old first Jubilee. She + was new then, however; a singular sort of a single-engine boat, with a + Chinese captain and a Choctaw crew, forecastle on her stern, wheels in the + center, and the jackstaff “nowhere,” for I steered her with a + window-shutter, and when we wanted to land we sent a line ashore and + “rounded her to” with a yoke of oxen. + </p> + <p> + Well, sir, we wooded off the top of the big bluff above Selmathe only dry + land visible—and waited there three weeks, swapping knives and + playing “seven up” with the Indians, waiting for the river to + fall. Finally, it fell about a hundred feet, and we went on. One day we + rounded to, and I got in a horse-trough, which my partner borrowed from + the Indians up there at Selma while they were at prayers, and went down to + sound around No. 8, and while I was gone my partner got aground on the + hills at Hickman. After three days' labor we finally succeeded in sparring + her off with a capstan bar, and went on to Memphis. By the time we got + there the river had subsided to such an extent that we were able to land + where the Gayoso House now stands. We finished loading at Memphis, and + loaded part of the stone for the present St. Louis Court House (which was + then in process of erection), to be taken up on our return trip. + </p> + <p> + You can form some conception, by these memoranda, of how high the water + was in 1763. In 1775 it did not rise so high by thirty feet; in 1790 it + missed the original mark at least sixty-five feet; in 1797, one hundred + and fifty feet; and in 1806, nearly two hundred and fifty feet. These were + “high-water” years. The “high waters” since then + have been so insignificant that I have scarcely taken the trouble to + notice them. Thus, you will perceive that the planters need not feel + uneasy. The river may make an occasional spasmodic effort at a flood, but + the time is approaching when it will cease to rise altogether. + </p> + <p> + In conclusion, sir, I will condescend to hint at the foundation of these + arguments: When me and De Soto discovered the Mississippi I could stand at + Bolivar Landing (several miles above “Roaring Waters Bar”) and + pitch a biscuit to the main shore on the other side, and in low water we + waded across at Donaldsonville. The gradual widening and deepening of the + river is the whole secret of the matter. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yours, etc. + SERGEANT FATHOM. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_APPEc" id="link2H_APPEc"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APPENDIX C. + </h2> + <p> + I. MARK TWAIN'S EMPIRE CITY HOAX (See Chapter xli) THE LATEST SENSATION. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A Victim to Jeremy Diddling Trustees—He Cuts his Throat from Ear to + Ear, Scalps his Wife, and Dashes Out the Brains of Six Helpless + Children! +</pre> + <p> + From Abram Curry, who arrived here yesterday afternoon from Carson, we + learn the following particulars concerning a bloody massacre which was + committed in Ormsby County night before last. It seems that during the + past six months a man named P. Hopkins, or Philip Hopkins, has been + residing with his family in the old log-house just at the edge of the + great pine forest which lies between Empire City and Dutch Nick's. The + family consisted of nine children—five girls and four boys—the + oldest of the group, Mary, being nineteen years old, and the youngest, + Tommy, about a year and a half. Twice in the past two months Mrs. Hopkins, + while visiting Carson, expressed fears concerning the sanity of her + husband, remarking that of late he had been subject to fits of violence, + and that during the prevalence of one of these he had threatened to take + her life. It was Mrs. Hopkins's misfortune to be given to exaggeration, + however, and but little attention was given to what she said. + </p> + <p> + About 10 o'clock on Monday evening Hopkins dashed into Carson on + horseback, with his throat cut from ear to ear, and bearing in his hand a + reeking scalp, from which the warm, smoking blood was still dripping, and + fell in a dying condition in front of the Magnolia saloon. Hopkins + expired, in the course of five minutes, without speaking. The long, red + hair of the scalp he bore marked it as that of Mrs. Hopkins. A number of + citizens, headed by Sheriff Gasherie, mounted at once and rode down to + Hopkins's house, where a ghastly scene met their eyes. The scalpless + corpse of Mrs. Hopkins lay across the threshold, with her head split open + and her right hand almost severed from the wrist. Near her lay the ax with + which the murderous deed had been committed. In one of the bedrooms six of + the children were found, one in bed and the others scattered about the + floor. They were all dead. Their brains had evidently been dashed out with + a club, and every mark about them seemed to have been made with a blunt + instrument. The children must have struggled hard for their lives, as + articles of clothing and broken furniture were strewn about the room in + the utmost confusion. Julia and Emma, aged respectively fourteen and + seventeen, were found in the kitchen, bruised and insensible, but it is + thought their recovery is possible. The eldest girl, Mary, must have + sought refuge, in her terror, in the garret, as her body was found there + frightfully mutilated, and the knife with which her wounds had been + inflicted still sticking in her side. The two girls Julia and Emma, who + had recovered sufficiently to be able to talk yesterday morning, declare + that their father knocked them down with a billet of wood and stamped on + them. They think they were the first attacked. They further state that + Hopkins had shown evidence of derangement all day, but had exhibited no + violence. He flew into a passion and attempted to murder them because they + advised him to go to bed and compose his mind. + </p> + <p> + Curry says Hopkins was about forty-two years of age, and a native of + western Pennsylvania; he was always affable and polite, and until very + recently no one had ever heard of his ill-treating his family. He had been + a heavy owner in the best mines of Virginia and Gold Hill, but when the + San Francisco papers exposed our game of cooking dividends in order to + bolster up our stocks he grew afraid and sold out, and invested an immense + amount in the Spring Valley Water Company, of San Francisco. He was + advised to do this by a relative of his, one of the editors of the San + Francisco Bulletin, who had suffered pecuniarily by the dividend-cooking + system as applied to the Daney Mining Company recently. Hopkins had not + long ceased to own in the various claims on the Comstock lead, however, + when several dividends were cooked on his newly acquired property, their + water totally dried up, and Spring Valley stock went down to nothing. It + is presumed that this misfortune drove him mad, and resulted in his + killing himself and the greater portion of his family. The newspapers of + San Francisco permitted this water company to go on borrowing money and + cooking dividends, under cover of which the cunning financiers crept out + of the tottering concern, leaving the crash to come upon poor and + unsuspecting stockholders, without offering to expose the villainy at + work. We hope the fearful massacre detailed above may prove the saddest + result of their silence. + </p> + <p> + II. NEWS-GATHERING WITH MARK TWAIN. + </p> + <p> + Alfred Doten's son gives the following account of a reporting trip made by + his father and Mark Twain, when the two were on Comstock papers: + </p> + <p> + My father and Mark Twain were once detailed to go over to Como and write + up some new mines that had been discovered over there. My father was on + the Gold Hill News. He and Mark had not met before, but became promptly + acquainted, and were soon calling each other by their first names. + </p> + <p> + They went to a little hotel at Carson, agreeing to do their work there + together next morning. When morning came they set out, and suddenly on a + corner Mark stopped and turned to my father, saying: + </p> + <p> + “By gracious, Alf! Isn't that a brewery?” + </p> + <p> + “It is, Mark. Let's go in.” + </p> + <p> + They did so, and remained there all day, swapping yarns, sipping beer, and + lunching, going back to the hotel that night. + </p> + <p> + The next morning precisely the same thing occurred. When they were on the + same corner, Mark stopped as if he had never been there before, and sand: + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious, Alf! Isn't that a brewery?” + </p> + <p> + “It is, Mark. Let's go in.” + </p> + <p> + So again they went in, and again stayed all day. + </p> + <p> + This happened again the next morning, and the next. Then my father became + uneasy. A letter had come from Gold Hill, asking him where his report of + the mines was. They agreed that next morning they would really begin the + story; that they would climb to the top of a hill that overlooked the + mines, and write it from there. + </p> + <p> + But the next morning, as before, Mark was surprised to discover the + brewery, and once more they went in. A few moments later, however, a man + who knew all about the mines—a mining engineer connected with them—came + in. He was a godsend. My father set down a valuable, informing story, + while Mark got a lot of entertaining mining yarns out of him. + </p> + <p> + Next day Virginia City and Gold Hill were gaining information from my + father's article, and entertainment from Mark's story of the mines. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_APPEd" id="link2H_APPEd"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APPENDIX D + </h2> + <h3> + FROM MARK TWAIN'S FIRST LECTURE, DELIVERED OCTOBER 2, 1866. + </h3> + <p> + (See Chapter liv) HAWAIIAN IMPORTANCE TO AMERICA. + </p> + <p> + After a full elucidation of the sugar industry of the Sandwich Islands, + its profits and possibilities, he said: + </p> + <p> + I have dwelt upon this subject to show you that these islands have a + genuine importance to America—an importance which is not generally + appreciated by our citizens. They pay revenues into the United States + Treasury now amounting to over a half a million a year. + </p> + <p> + I do not know what the sugar yield of the world is now, but ten years ago, + according to the Patent Office reports, it was 800,000 hogsheads. The + Sandwich Islands, properly cultivated by go-ahead Americans, are capable + of providing one-third as much themselves. With the Pacific Railroad + built, the great China Mail Line of steamers touching at Honolulu—we + could stock the islands with Americans and supply a third of the civilized + world with sugar—and with the silkiest, longest-stapled cotton this + side of the Sea Islands, and the very best quality of rice.... The + property has got to fall to some heir, and why not the United States? + </p> + <p> + NATIVE PASSION FOR FUNERALS + </p> + <p> + They are very fond of funerals. Big funerals are their main weakness. Fine + grave clothes, fine funeral appointments, and a long procession are things + they take a generous delight in. They are fond of their chief and their + king; they reverence them with a genuine reverence and love them with a + warm affection, and often look forward to the happiness they will + experience in burying them. They will beg, borrow, or steal money enough, + and flock from all the islands, to be present at a royal funeral on Oahu. + Years ago a Kanaka and his wife were condemned to be hanged for murder. + They received the sentence with manifest satisfaction because it gave an + opening for a funeral, you know. All they care for is a funeral. It makes + but little difference to them whose it is; they would as soon attend their + own funeral as anybody else's. This couple were people of consequence, and + had landed estates. They sold every foot of ground they had and laid it + out in fine clothes to be hung in. And the woman appeared on the scaffold + in a white satin dress and slippers and fathoms of gaudy ribbon, and the + man was arrayed in a gorgeous vest, blue claw-hammer coat and brass + buttons, and white kid gloves. As the noose was adjusted around his neck, + he blew his nose with a grand theatrical flourish, so as to show his + embroidered white handkerchief. I never, never knew of a couple who + enjoyed hanging more than they did. + </p> + <p> + VIEW FROM HALEAKALA + </p> + <p> + It is a solemn pleasure to stand upon the summit of the extinct crater of + Haleakala, ten thousand feet above the sea, and gaze down into its awful + crater, 27 miles in circumference and ago feet deep, and to picture to + yourself the seething world of fire that once swept up out of the + tremendous abyss ages ago. + </p> + <p> + The prodigious funnel is dead and silent now, and even has bushes growing + far down in its bottom, where the deep-sea line could hardly have reached + in the old times, when the place was filled with liquid lava. These bushes + look like parlor shrubs from the summit where you stand, and the file of + visitors moving through them on their mules is diminished to a detachment + of mice almost; and to them you, standing so high up against the sun, ten + thousand feet above their heads, look no larger than a grasshopper. + </p> + <p> + This in the morning; but at three or four in the afternoon a thousand + little patches of white clouds, like handfuls of wool, come drifting + noiselessly, one after another, into the crater, like a procession of + shrouded phantoms, and circle round and round the vast sides, and settle + gradually down and mingle together until the colossal basin is filled to + the brim with snowy fog and all its seared and desolate wonders are hidden + from sight. + </p> + <p> + And then you may turn your back to the crater and look far away upon the + broad valley below, with its sugar-houses glinting like white specks in + the distance, and the great sugar-fields diminished to green veils amid + the lighter-tinted verdure around them, and abroad upon the limitless + ocean. But I should not say you look down; you look up at these things. + </p> + <p> + You are ten thousand feet above them, but yet you seem to stand in a + basin, with the green islands here and there, and the valleys and the wide + ocean, and the remote snow-peak of Mauna Loa, all raised up before and + above you, and pictured out like a brightly tinted map hung at the ceiling + of a room. + </p> + <p> + You look up at everything; nothing is below you. It has a singular and + startling effect to see a miniature world thus seemingly hung in mid-air. + </p> + <p> + But soon the white clouds come trooping along in ghostly squadrons and + mingle together in heavy masses a quarter of a mile below you and shut out + everything-completely hide the sea and all the earth save the pinnacle you + stand on. As far as the eye can reach, it finds nothing to rest upon but a + boundless plain of clouds tumbled into all manner of fantastic shapes-a + billowy ocean of wool aflame with the gold and purple and crimson + splendors of the setting sun! And so firm does this grand cloud pavement + look that you can hardly persuade yourself that you could not walk upon + it; that if you stepped upon it you would plunge headlong and astonish + your friends at dinner ten thousand feet below. + </p> + <p> + Standing on that peak, with all the world shut out by that vast plain of + clouds, a feeling of loneliness comes over a man which suggests to his + mind the last man at the flood, perched high upon the last rock, with + nothing visible on any side but a mournful waste of waters, and the ark + departing dimly through the distant mists and leaving him to storm and + night and solitude and death! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0311" id="link2H_4_0311"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NOTICE OF MARK TWAIN'S LECTURE + </h2> + <h3> + “THE TROUBLE IS OVER” + </h3> + <p> + “The inimitable Mark Twain, delivered himself last night of his + first lecture on the Sandwich Islands, or anything else. + </p> + <p> + “Some time before the hour appointed to open his head the Academy of + Music (on Pine Street) was densely crowded with one of the most + fashionable audiences it was ever my privilege to witness during my long + residence in this city. The Elite of the town were there, and so was the + Governor of the State, occupying one of the boxes, whose rotund face was + suffused with a halo of mirth during the whole entertainment. The audience + promptly notified Mark by the usual sign—stamping—that the + auspicious hour had arrived, and presently the lecturer came sidling and + swinging out from the left of the stage. His very manner produced a + generally vociferous laugh from the assemblage. He opened with an apology, + by saying that he had partly succeeded in obtaining a band, but at the + last moment the party engaged backed out. He explained that he had hired a + man to play the trombone, but he, on learning that he was the only person + engaged, came at the last moment and informed him that he could not play. + This placed Mark in a bad predicament, and wishing to know his reasons for + deserting him at that critical moment, he replied, 'That he wasn't going + to make a fool of himself by sitting up there on the stage and blowing his + horn all by himself.' After the applause subsided, he assumed a very grave + countenance and commenced his remarks proper with the following well-known + sentence: 'When, in the course of human events,' etc. He lectured fully an + hour and a quarter, and his humorous sayings were interspersed with + geographical, agricultural, and statistical remarks, sometimes branching + off and reaching beyond, soaring, in the very choicest language, up to the + very pinnacle of descriptive power.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_APPEe" id="link2H_APPEe"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APPENDIX E + </h2> + <h3> + FROM “THE JUMPING FROG” BOOK (MARK TWAIN'S FIRST PUBLISHED + VOLUME) + </h3> + <p> + (See Chapters lviii and lix) + </p> + <p> + I. ADVERTISEMENT + </p> + <p> + “Mark Twain” is too well known to the public to require a + formal introduction at my hands. By his story of the Frog he scaled the + heights of popularity at a single jump and won for himself the 'sobriquet' + of The Wild Humorist of the Pacific Slope. He is also known to fame as The + Moralist of the Main; and it is not unlikely that as such he will go down + to posterity. It is in his secondary character, as humorist, however, + rather than in the primal one of moralist, that I aim to present him in + the present volume. And here a ready explanation will be found for the + somewhat fragmentary character of many of these sketches; for it was + necessary to snatch threads of humor wherever they could be found—very + often detaching them from serious articles and moral essays with which + they were woven and entangled. Originally written for newspaper + publication, many of the articles referred to events of the day, the + interest of which has now passed away, and contained local allusions, + which the general reader would fail to understand; in such cases excision + became imperative. Further than this, remark or comment is unnecessary. + Mark Twain never resorts to tricks of spelling nor rhetorical buffoonery + for the purpose of provoking a laugh; the vein of his humor runs too rich + and deep to make surface gliding necessary. But there are few who can + resist the quaint similes, keen satire, and hard, good sense which form + the staple of his writing. + </p> + <p> + J. P. II. FROM ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS + </p> + <p> + “MORAL STATISTICIAN”—I don't want any of your + statistics. I took your whole batch and lit my pipe with it. I hate your + kind of people. You are always ciphering out how much a man's health is + injured, and how much his intellect is impaired, and how many pitiful + dollars and cents he wastes in the course of ninety-two years' indulgence + in the fatal practice of smoking; and in the equally fatal practice of + drinking coffee; and in playing billiards occasionally; and in taking a + glass of wine at dinner, etc., etc., etc.... + </p> + <p> + Of course you can save money by denying yourself all these vicious little + enjoyments for fifty years; but then what can you do with it? What use can + you put it to? Money can't save your infinitesimal soul. All the use that + money can be put to is to purchase comfort and enjoyment in this life; + therefore, as you are an enemy to comfort and enjoyment, where is the use + in accumulating cash? It won't do for you to say that you can use it to + better purpose in furnishing good table, and in charities, and in + supporting tract societies, because you know yourself that you people who + have no petty vices are never known to give away a cent, and that you + stint yourselves so in the matter of food that you are always feeble and + hungry. And you never dare to laugh in the daytime for fear some poor + wretch, seeing you in a good-humor, will try to borrow a dollar of you; + and in church you are always down on your knees, with your eyes buried in + the cushion, when the contribution-box comes around; and you never give + the revenue-officers a true statement of your income. Now you all know all + these things yourself, don't you? Very well, then, what is the use of your + stringing out your miserable lives to a clean and withered old age? What + is the use of your saving money that is so utterly worthless to you? In a + word, why don't you go off somewhere and die, and not be always trying to + seduce people into becoming as “ornery” and unlovable as you + are yourselves, by your ceaseless and villainous “moral statistics”? + Now, I don't approve of dissipation, and I don't indulge in it, either; + but I haven't a particle of confidence in a man who has no redeeming petty + vices whatever, and so I don't want to hear from you any more. I think you + are the very same man who read me a long lecture last week about the + degrading vice of smoking cigars and then came back, in my absence, with + your vile, reprehensible fire-proof gloves on, and carried off my + beautiful parlor-stove. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0313" id="link2H_4_0313"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III. FROM “A STRANGE DREAM” + </h2> + <h3> + (Example of Mark Twain's Early Descriptive Writing) + </h3> + <p> + ... In due time I stood, with my companion, on the wall of the vast + caldron which the natives, ages ago, named 'Hale mau mau'—the abyss + wherein they were wont to throw the remains of their chiefs, to the end + that vulgar feet might never tread above them. We stood there, at dead of + night, a mile above the level of the sea, and looked down a thousand feet + upon a boiling, surging, roaring ocean of fire!—shaded our eyes from + the blinding glare, and gazed far away over the crimson waves with a vague + notion that a supernatural fleet, manned by demons and freighted with the + damned, might presently sail up out of the remote distance; started when + tremendous thunder-bursts shook the earth, and followed with fascinated + eyes the grand jets of molten lava that sprang high up toward the zenith + and exploded in a world of fiery spray that lit up the somber heavens with + an infernal splendor. + </p> + <p> + “What is your little bonfire of Vesuvius to this?” + </p> + <p> + My ejaculation roused my companion from his reverie, and we fell into a + conversation appropriate to the occasion and the surroundings. We came at + last to speak of the ancient custom of casting the bodies of dead + chieftains into this fearful caldron; and my comrade, who is of the blood + royal, mentioned that the founder of his race, old King Kamehameha the + First—that invincible old pagan Alexander—had found other + sepulture than the burning depths of the 'Hale mau mau'. I grew interested + at once; I knew that the mystery of what became of the corpse of the + warrior king hail never been fathomed; I was aware that there was a legend + connected with this matter; and I felt as if there could be no more + fitting time to listen to it than the present. The descendant of the + Kamehamehas said: + </p> + <p> + The dead king was brought in royal state down the long, winding road that + descends from the rim of the crater to the scorched and chasm-riven plain + that lies between the 'Hale mau mau' and those beetling walls yonder in + the distance. The guards were set and the troops of mourners began the + weird wail for the departed. In the middle of the night came a sound of + innumerable voices in the air and the rush of invisible wings; the funeral + torches wavered, burned blue, and went out. The mourners and watchers fell + to the ground paralyzed by fright, and many minutes elapsed before any one + dared to move or speak; for they believed that the phantom messengers of + the dread Goddess of Fire had been in their midst. When at last a torch + was lighted the bier was vacant—the dead monarch had been spirited + away! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_APPEf" id="link2H_APPEf"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APPENDIX F + </h2> + <h3> + THE INNOCENTS ABROAD (See Chapter lx) + </h3> + <p> + NEW YORK “HERALD” EDITORIAL ON THE RETURN OF THE “QUAKER + CITY” PILGRIMAGE, NOVEMBER 19, 1867. + </p> + <p> + In yesterday's Herald we published a most amusing letter from the pen of + that most amusing American genius, Mark Twain, giving an account of that + most amusing of all modern pilgrimages—the pilgrimage of the 'Quaker + City'. It has been amusing all through, this Quaker City affair. It might + have become more serious than amusing if the ship had been sold at Jaffa, + Alexandria, or Yalta, in the Black Sea, as it appears might have happened. + In such a case the passengers would have been more effectually sold than + the ship. The descendants of the Puritan pilgrims have, naturally enough, + some of them, an affection for ships; but if all that is said about this + religious cruise be true they have also a singularly sharp eye to + business. It was scarcely wise on the part of the pilgrims, although it + was well for the public, that so strange a genius as Mark Twain should + have found admission into the sacred circle. We are not aware whether Mr. + Twain intends giving us a book on this pilgrimage, but we do know that a + book written from his own peculiar standpoint, giving an account of the + characters and events on board ship and of the scenes which the pilgrims + witnessed, would command an almost unprecedented sale. There are varieties + of genius peculiar to America. Of one of these varieties Mark Twain is a + striking specimen. For the development of his peculiar genius he has never + had a more fitting opportunity. Besides, there are some things which he + knows, and which the world ought to know, about this last edition of the + Mayflower. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_APPEg" id="link2H_APPEg"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APPENDIX G + </h2> + <h3> + MARK TWAIN AT THE CORRESPONDENTS CLUB, WASHINGTON + </h3> + <p> + (See Chapter lxiii) + </p> + <p> + WOMAN A EULOGY OF THE FAIR SEX. + </p> + <p> + The Washington Correspondents Club held its anniversary on Saturday night. + Mr. Clemens, better known as Mark Twain, responded to the toast, “Woman, + the pride of the professions and the jewel of ours.” He said: + </p> + <p> + Mr. President,—I do not know why I should have been singled out to + receive the greatest distinction of the evening—for so the office of + replying to the toast to woman has been regarded in every age. [Applause.] + I do not know why I have received this distinction, unless it be that I am + a trifle less homely than the other members of the club. But, be this as + it may, Mr. President, I am proud of the position, and you could not have + chosen any one who would have accepted it more gladly, or labored with a + heartier good—will to do the subject justice, than I. Because, Sir, + I love the sex. [Laughter.] I love all the women, sir, irrespective of age + or color. [Laughter.] + </p> + <p> + Human intelligence cannot estimate what we owe to woman, sir. She sews on + our buttons [laughter]; she mends our clothes [laughter]; she ropes us in + at the church fairs; she confides in us; she tells us whatever she can + find out about the private affairs of the neighbors; she gives good + advice, and plenty of it; she gives us a piece of her mind sometimes—and + sometimes all of it; she soothes our aching brows; she bears our children. + (Ours as a general thing.)—[this last sentence appears in Twain's + published speeches and may have been added later. D.W.] + </p> + <p> + In all relations of life, sir, it is but just and a graceful tribute to + woman to say of her that she is a brick. [Great laughter.] + </p> + <p> + Wheresoever you place woman, sir—in whatsoever position or estate—she + is an ornament to that place she occupies, and a treasure to the world. + [Here Mr. Twain paused, looked inquiringly at his hearers, and remarked + that the applause should come in at this point. It came in. Mr. Twain + resumed his eulogy.] Look at the noble names of history! Look at + Cleopatra! Look at Desdemona! Look at Florence Nightingale! Look at Joan + of Arc! Look at Lucretia Borgia! [Disapprobation expressed. “Well,” + said Mr. Twain, scratching his head, doubtfully, “suppose we let + Lucretia slide.”] Look at Joyce Heth! Look at Mother Eve! I repeat, + sir, look at the illustrious names of history! Look at the Widow Machree! + Look at Lucy Stone! Look at Elizabeth Cady Stanton! Look at George Francis + Train! [Great laughter.] And, sir, I say with bowed head and deepest + veneration, look at the mother of Washington! She raised a boy that could + not lie—could not lie. [Applause.] But he never had any chance. It + might have been different with him if he had belonged to a newspaper + correspondents' club. [Laughter, groans, hisses, cries of “put him + out.” Mark looked around placidly upon his excited audience, and + resumed.] + </p> + <p> + I repeat, sir, that in whatsoever position you place a woman she is an + ornament to society and a treasure to the world. As a sweetheart she has + few equals and no superior [laughter]; as a cousin she is convenient; as a + wealthy grandmother with an incurable distemper she is precious; as a wet + nurse she has no equal among men! [Laughter.] + </p> + <p> + What, sir, would the people of this earth be without woman? They would be + scarce, sir. (Mighty scarce.)—[another line added later in the + published 'Speeches'. D.W.] Then let us cherish her, let us protect her, + let us give her our support, our encouragement, our sympathy—ourselves, + if we get a chance. [Laughter.] + </p> + <p> + But, jesting aside, Mr. President, woman is lovable, gracious, kind of + heart, beautiful; worthy of all respect, of all esteem, of all deference. + Not any here will refuse to drink her health right cordially, for each and + every one of us has personally known, loved, and honored the very best one + of them all—his own mother! [Applause.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_APPEh" id="link2H_APPEh"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APPENDIX H + </h2> + <h3> + ANNOUNCEMENT FOR LECTURE OF JULY 2, 1868 + </h3> + <p> + (See Chapter lxvi) + </p> + <p> + THE PUBLIC TO MARK TWAIN—CORRESPONDENCE + </p> + <p> + SAN FRANCISCO, June 30th. + </p> + <p> + MR. MARK TWAIN—DEAR SIR,—Hearing that you are about to sail + for New York in the P. M. S. S. Company's steamer of the 6th July, to + publish a book, and learning with the deepest concern that you propose to + read a chapter or two of that book in public before you go, we take this + method of expressing our cordial desire that you will not. We beg and + implore you do not. There is a limit to human endurance. + </p> + <p> + We are your personal friends. We have your welfare at heart. We desire to + see you prosper. And it is upon these accounts, and upon these only, that + we urge you to desist from the new atrocity you contemplate. Yours truly, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 60 names including: Bret Harte, Maj.-Gen. Ord, Maj.-Gen. Halleck, + The Orphan Asylum, and various Benevolent Societies, Citizens on + Foot and Horseback, and 1500 in the Steerage. +(REPLY) + + SAN FRANCISCO, June 30th +</pre> + <p> + TO THE 1,500 AND OTHERS,—It seems to me that your course is entirely + unprecedented. Heretofore, when lecturers, singers, actors, and other + frauds have said they were about to leave town, you have always been the + very first people to come out in a card beseeching them to hold on for + just one night more, and inflict just one more performance on the public, + but as soon as I want to take a farewell benefit you come after me, with a + card signed by the whole community and the board of aldermen, praying me + not to do it. But it isn't of any use. You cannot move me from my fell + purpose. I will torment the people if I want to. I have a better right to + do it than these strange lecturers and orators that come here from abroad. + It only costs the public a dollar apiece, and if they can't stand it what + do they stay here for? Am I to go away and let them have peace and quiet + for a year and a half, and then come back and only lecture them twice? + What do you take me for? + </p> + <p> + No, gentlemen, ask of me anything else and I will do it cheerfully; but do + not ask me not to afflict the people. I wish to tell them all I know about + VENICE. I wish to tell them about the City of the Sea—that most + venerable, most brilliant, and proudest Republic the world has ever seen. + I wish to hint at what it achieved in twelve hundred years, and what it + lost in two hundred. I wish to furnish a deal of pleasant information, + somewhat highly spiced, but still palatable, digestible, and eminently + fitted for the intellectual stomach. My last lecture was not as fine as I + thought it was, but I have submitted this discourse to several able + critics, and they have pronounced it good. Now, therefore, why should I + withhold it? + </p> + <p> + Let me talk only just this once, and I will sail positively on the 6th of + July, and stay away until I return from China—two years. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yours truly, MARK TWAIN. +</pre> + <p> + (FURTHER REMONSTRANCE) + </p> + <p> + SAN FRANCISCO, June 30th. + </p> + <p> + MR. MARK TWAIN,—Learning with profound regret that you have + concluded to postpone your departure until the 6th July, and learning + also, with unspeakable grief, that you propose to read from your + forthcoming book, or lecture again before you go, at the New Mercantile + Library, we hasten to beg of you that you will not do it. Curb this spirit + of lawless violence, and emigrate at once. Have the vessel's bill for your + passage sent to us. We will pay it. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Your friends, + Pacific Board of Brokers [and + other financial and social + institutions] + + SAN FRANCISCO, June 30th. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +MR. MARK TWAIN—DEAR SIR,—Will you start now, without any unnecessary +delay? + + Yours truly, + Proprietors of the Alta, + Bulletin, Times, Call, Examiner + [and other San Francisco + publications]. + + SAN FRANCISCO, June 30th. +</pre> + <p> + MR. MARK TWAIN—DEAR SIR,—Do not delay your departure. You can + come back and lecture another time. In the language of the worldly—you + can “cut and come again.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Your friends, + THE CLERGY. + + SAN FRANCISCO, June 30th. +</pre> + <p> + MR. MARK TWAIN—DEAR SIR,—You had better go. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yours, + THE CHIEF OF POLICE. +(REPLY) +</pre> + <p> + SAN FRANCISCO, June 30th. + </p> + <p> + GENTLEMEN,—Restrain your emotions; you observe that they cannot + avail. Read: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + NEW MERCANTILE LIBRARY + Bush Street + + Thursday Evening, July 2, 1868 + One Night Only + + FAREWELL LECTURE + of + MARK TWAIN + Subject: + The Oldest of the Republics + VENICE + PAST AND PRESENT + + Box-Office open Wednesday and Thursday + No extra charge for reserved seats + + ADMISSION........... ONE DOLLAR + Doors open at 7 Orgies to commence at 8 P. M. + + The public displays and ceremonies projected to give fitting eclat + to this occasion have been unavoidably delayed until the 4th. The + lecture will be delivered certainly on the 2d, and the event will be + celebrated two days afterward by a discharge of artillery on the + 4th, a procession of citizens, the reading of the Declaration of + Independence, and by a gorgeous display of fireworks from Russian + Hill in the evening, which I have ordered at my sole expense, the + cost amounting to eighty thousand dollars. + + AT NEW MERCANTILE LIBRARY + Bush Street + Thursday Evening, July 2, 1868 +</pre> + <p> + <a name="appendices" id="appendices"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APPENDIX I. MARK TWAIN'S CHAMPIONSHIP OF THOMAS K. BEECHER + </h2> + <h3> + (See Chapter lxxiv) + </h3> + <p> + There was a religious turmoil in Elmira in 1869; a disturbance among the + ministers, due to the success of Thomas K. Beecher in a series of meetings + he was conducting in the Opera House. Mr. Beecher's teachings had never + been very orthodox or doctrinal, but up to this time they had been + seemingly unobjectionable to his brother clergymen, who fraternized with + him and joined with him in the Monday meetings of the Ministerial Union of + Elmira, when each Monday a sermon was read by one of the members. The + situation presently changed. Mr. Beecher was preaching his doubtful + theology to large and nightly increasing audiences, and it was time to + check the exodus. The Ministerial Union of Elmira not only declined to + recognize and abet the Opera House gatherings, but they requested him to + withdraw from their Monday meetings, on the ground that his teachings were + pernicious. Mr. Beecher said nothing of the matter, and it was not made + public until a notice of it appeared in a religious paper. Naturally such + a course did not meet with the approval of the Langdon family, and awoke + the scorn of a man who so detested bigotry in any form as Mark Twain. He + was a stranger in the place, and not justified to speak over his own + signature, but he wrote an article and read it to members of the Langdon + family and to Dr. and Mrs. Taylor, their intimate friends, who were + spending an evening in the Langdon home. It was universally approved, and + the next morning appeared in the Elmira Advertiser, over the signature of + “S'cat.” It created a stir, of course. + </p> + <p> + The article follows: + </p> + <p> + MR. BEECHER AND THE CLERGY + </p> + <p> + “The Ministerial Union of Elmira, N. Y., at a recent meeting passed + resolutions disapproving the teachings of Rev. T. K. Beecher, declining to + co-operate with him in his Sunday evening services at the Opera House, and + requesting him to withdraw from their Monday morning meeting. This has + resulted in his withdrawal, and thus the pastors are relieved from further + responsibility as to his action.”—N. Y. Evangelist. + </p> + <p> + Poor Beecher! All this time he could do whatever he pleased that was + wrong, and then be perfectly serene and comfortable over it, because the + Ministerial Union of Elmira was responsible to God for it. He could lie if + he wanted to, and those ministers had to answer for it; he could promote + discord in the church of Christ, and those parties had to make it right + with the Deity as best they could; he could teach false doctrines to empty + opera houses, and those sorrowing lambs of the Ministerial Union had to + get out their sackcloth and ashes and stand responsible for it. He had + such a comfortable thing of it! But he went too far. In an evil hour he + slaughtered the simple geese that laid the golden egg of responsibility + for him, and now they will uncover their customary complacency, and lift + up their customary cackle in his behalf no more. And so, at last, he finds + himself in the novel position of being responsible to God for his acts, + instead of to the Ministerial Union of Elmira. To say that this is + appalling is to state it with a degree of mildness which amounts to + insipidity. + </p> + <p> + We cannot justly estimate this calamity, without first reviewing certain + facts that conspired to bring it about. Mr. Beecher was and is in the + habit of preaching to a full congregation in the Independent + Congregational Church, in this city. The meeting-house was not large + enough to accommodate all the people who desired admittance. Mr. Beecher + regularly attended the meetings of the Ministerial Union of Elmira every + Monday morning, and they received him into their fellowship, and never + objected to the doctrines which he taught in his church. So, in an + unfortunate moment, he conceived the strange idea that they would connive + at the teaching of the same doctrines in the same way in a larger house. + Therefore he secured the Opera House and proceeded to preach there every + Sunday evening to assemblages comprising from a thousand to fifteen + hundred persons. He felt warranted in this course by a passage of + Scripture which says, “Go ye into all the world and preach the + gospel unto every creature.” Opera-houses were not ruled out + specifically in this passage, and so he considered it proper to regard + opera-houses as a part of “all the world.” He looked upon the + people who assembled there as coming under the head of “every + creature.” These ideas were as absurd as they were farfetched, but + still they were the honest ebullitions of a diseased mind. His great + mistake was in supposing that when he had the Saviour's indorsement of his + conduct he had all that was necessary. He overlooked the fact that there + might possibly be a conflict of opinion between the Saviour and the + Ministerial Union of Elmira. And there was. Wherefore, blind and foolish + Mr. Beecher went to his destruction. The Ministerial Union withdrew their + approbation, and left him dangling in the air, with no other support than + the countenance and approval of the gospel of Christ. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Beecher invited his brother ministers to join forces with him and help + him conduct the Opera House meetings. They declined with great unanimity. + In this they were wrong. Since they did not approve of those meetings, it + was a duty they owed to their consciences and their God to contrive their + discontinuance. They knew this. They felt it. Yet they turned coldly away + and refused to help at those meetings, when they well knew that their + help, earnestly and persistently given, was able to kill any great + religious enterprise that ever was conceived of. + </p> + <p> + The ministers refused, and the calamitous meetings at the Opera House + continued; and not only continued, but grew in interest and importance, + and sapped of their congregations churches where the Gospel was preached + with that sweet monotonous tranquillity and that impenetrable profundity + which stir up such consternation in the strongholds of sin. It is a pity + to have to record here that one clergyman refused to preach at the Opera + House at Mr. Beecher's request, even when that incendiary was sick and + disabled; and if that man's conscience justifies him in that refusal I do + not. Under the plea of charity for a sick brother he could have preached + to that Opera House multitude a sermon that would have done incalculable + damage to the Opera House experiment. And he need not have been particular + about the sermon he chose, either. He could have relied on any he had in + his barrel. + </p> + <p> + The Opera House meetings went on; other congregations were thin, and grew + thinner, but the Opera House assemblages were vast. Every Sunday night, in + spite of sense and reason, multitudes passed by the churches where they + might have been saved, and marched deliberately to the Opera House to be + damned. The community talked, talked, talked. Everybody discussed the fact + that the Ministerial Union disapproved of the Opera House meetings; also + the fact that they disapproved of the teachings put forth there. And + everybody wondered how the Ministerial Union could tell whether to approve + or disapprove of those teachings, seeing that those clergymen had never + attended an Opera House meeting, and therefore didn't know what was taught + there. Everybody wondered over that curious question, and they had to take + it out in wondering. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Beecher asked the Ministerial Union to state their objections to the + Opera House matter. They could not—at least they did not. He said to + them that if they would come squarely out and tell him that they desired + the discontinuance of those meetings he would discontinue them. They + declined to do that. Why should they have declined? They had no right to + decline, and no excuse to decline, if they honestly believed that those + meetings interfered in the slightest degree with the best interests of + religion. (That is a proposition which the profoundest head among them + cannot get around.) + </p> + <p> + But the Opera House meetings went on. That was the mischief of it. And so, + one Monday morning, when Mr. B. appeared at the usual Ministers' meeting, + his brother clergymen desired him to come there no more. He asked why. + They gave no reason. They simply declined to have his company longer. Mr. + B. said he could not accept of this execution without a trial, and since + he loved them and had nothing against them he must insist upon meeting + with them in the future just the same as ever. And so, after that, they + met in secret, and thus got rid of this man's importunate affection. + </p> + <p> + The Ministerial Union had ruled out Beecher—a point gained. He would + get up an excitement about it in public. But that was a miscalculation. He + never mentioned it. They waited and waited for the grand crash, but it + never came. After all their labor-pains, their ministerial mountain had + brought forth only a mouse—and a still-born one at that. Beecher had + not told on them; Beecher malignantly persisted in not telling on them. + The opportunity was slipping away. Alas, for the humiliation of it, they + had to come out and tell it themselves! And after all, their bombshell did + not hurt anybody when they did explode it. They had ceased to be + responsible to God for Beecher, and yet nobody seemed paralyzed about it. + Somehow, it was not even of sufficient importance, apparently, to get into + the papers, though even the poor little facts that Smith has bought a + trotting team and Alderman Jones's child has the measles are chronicled + there with avidity. Something must be done. As the Ministerial Union had + told about their desolating action, when nobody else considered it of + enough importance to tell, they would also publish it, now that the + reporters failed to see anything in it important enough to print. And so + they startled the entire religious world no doubt by solemnly printing in + the Evangelist the paragraph which heads this article. They have got their + excommunication-bull started at last. It is going along quite lively now, + and making considerable stir, let us hope. They even know it in Podunk, + wherever that may be. It excited a two-line paragraph there. Happy, happy + world, that knows at last that a little congress of congregationless + clergymen of whom it had never heard before have crushed a famous Beecher, + and reduced his audiences from fifteen hundred down to fourteen hundred + and seventy-five at one fell blow! Happy, happy world, that knows at last + that these obscure innocents are no longer responsible for the blemishless + teachings, the power, the pathos, the logic, and the other and manifold + intellectual pyrotechnics that seduce, but to damn, the Opera House + assemblages every Sunday night in Elmira! And miserable, O thrice + miserable Beecher! For the Ministerial Union of Elmira will never, no, + never more be responsible to God for his shortcomings. (Excuse these + tears.) + </p> + <p> + (For the protection of a man who is uniformly charged with all the + newspaper deviltry that sees the light in Elmira journals, I take this + opportunity of stating, under oath, duly subscribed before a magistrate, + that Mr. Beecher did not write this article. And further still, that he + did not inspire it. And further still, the Ministerial Union of Elmira did + not write it. And finally, the Ministerial Union did not ask me to write + it. No, I have taken up this cudgel in defense of the Ministerial Union of + Elmira solely from a love of justice. Without solicitation, I have + constituted myself the champion of the Ministerial Union of Elmira, and it + shall be a labor of love with me to conduct their side of a quarrel in + print for them whenever they desire me to do it; or if they are busy, and + have not the time to ask me, I will cheerfully do it anyhow. In closing + this I must remark that if any question the right of the clergymen of + Elmira to turn Mr. Beecher out of the Ministerial Union, to such I answer + that Mr. Beecher recreated that institution after it had been dead for + many years, and invited those gentlemen to come into it, which they did, + and so of course they have a right to turn him out if they want to. The + difference between Beecher and the man who put an adder in his bosom is, + that Beecher put in more adders than he did, and consequently had a + proportionately livelier time of it when they got warmed up.) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Cheerfully, + S'CAT. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_APPEj" id="link2H_APPEj"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APPENDIX J + </h2> + <p> + THE INDIGNITY PUT UPON THE REMAINS OF GEORGE HOLLAND BY THE REV. MR. + SABINE. + </p> + <p> + (See Chapter lxxvii) + </p> + <p> + What a ludicrous satire it was upon Christian charity!—even upon the + vague, theoretical idea of it which doubtless this small saint mouths from + his own pulpit every Sunday. Contemplate this freak of nature, and think + what a Cardiff giant of self-righteousness is crowded into his pigmy skin. + If we probe, and dissect; and lay open this diseased, this cancerous piety + of his, we are forced to the conviction that it is the production of an + impression on his part that his guild do about all the good that is done + on the earth, and hence are better than common clay—hence are + competent to say to such as George Holland, “You are unworthy; you + are a play-actor, and consequently a sinner; I cannot take the + responsibility of recommending you to the mercy of Heaven.” It must + have had its origin in that impression, else he would have thought, + “We are all instruments for the carrying out of God's purposes; it + is not for me to pass judgment upon your appointed share of the work, or + to praise or to revile it; I have divine authority for it that we are all + sinners, and therefore it is not for me to discriminate and say we will + supplicate for this sinner, for he was a merchant prince or a banker, but + we will beseech no forgiveness for this other one, for he was a + play-actor.” + </p> + <p> + It surely requires the furthest possible reach of self-righteousness to + enable a man to lift his scornful nose in the air and turn his back upon + so poor and pitiable a thing as a dead stranger come to beg the last + kindness that humanity can do in its behalf. This creature has violated + the letter of the Gospel, and judged George Holland—not George + Holland, either, but his profession through him. Then it is, in a measure, + fair that we judge this creature's guild through him. In effect he has + said, “We are the salt of the earth; we do all the good work that is + done; to learn how to be good and do good men must come to us; actors and + such are obstacles to moral progress.” Pray look at the thing + reasonably a moment, laying aside all biases of education and custom. If a + common public impression is fair evidence of a thing then this minister's + legitimate, recognized, and acceptable business is to tell people calmly, + coldly, and in stiff, written sentences, from the pulpit, to go and do + right, be just, be merciful, be charitable. And his congregation forget it + all between church and home. But for fifty years it was George Holland's + business on the stage to make his audience go and do right, and be just, + merciful, and charitable—because by his living, breathing, feeling + pictures he showed them what it was to do these things, and how to do + them, and how instant and ample was the reward! Is it not a singular + teacher of men, this reverend gentleman who is so poorly informed himself + as to put the whole stage under ban, and say, “I do not think it + teaches moral lessons”? Where was ever a sermon preached that could + make filial ingratitude so hateful to men as the sinful play of “King + Lear”? Or where was there ever a sermon that could so convince men + of the wrong and the cruelty of harboring a pampered and unanalyzed + jealousy as the sinful play of “Othello”? And where are there + ten preachers who can stand in the pulpit preaching heroism, unselfish + devotion, and lofty patriotism, and hold their own against any one of five + hundred William Tells that can be raised upon five hundred stages in the + land at a day's notice? It is almost fair and just to aver (although it is + profanity) that nine-tenths of all the kindness and forbearance and + Christian charity and generosity in the hearts of the American people + today got there by being filtered down from their fountain-head, the + gospel of Christ, through dramas and tragedies and comedies on the stage, + and through the despised novel and the Christmas story, and through the + thousand and one lessons, suggestions, and narratives of generous deeds + that stir the pulses, and exalt and augment the nobility of the nation day + by day from the teeming columns of ten thousand newspapers, and not from + the drowsy pulpit. + </p> + <p> + All that is great and good in our particular civilization came straight + from the hand of Jesus Christ, and many creatures, and of divers sorts, + were doubtless appointed to disseminate it; and let us believe that this + seed and the result are the main thing, and not the cut of the sower's + garment; and that whosoever, in his way and according to his opportunity, + sows the one and produces the other, has done high service and worthy. And + further, let us try with all our strength to believe that whenever old + simple-hearted George Holland sowed this seed, and reared his crop of + broader charities and better impulses in men's hearts, it was just as + acceptable before the Throne as if the seed had been scattered in vapid + platitudes from the pulpit of the ineffable Sabine himself. + </p> + <p> + Am I saying that the pulpit does not do its share toward disseminating the + marrow, the meat of the gospel of Christ? (For we are not talking of + ceremonies and wire-drawn creeds now, but the living heart and soul of + what is pretty often only a specter.) + </p> + <p> + No, I am not saying that. The pulpit teaches assemblages of people twice a + week nearly two hours altogether—and does what it can in that time. + The theater teaches large audiences seven times a week—28 or 30 + hours altogether—and the novels and newspapers plead, and argue, and + illustrate, stir, move, thrill, thunder, urge, persuade, and supplicate, + at the feet of millions and millions of people every single day, and all + day long and far into the night; and so these vast agencies till + nine-tenths of the vineyard, and the pulpit tills the other tenth. Yet now + and then some complacent blind idiot says, “You unanointed are + coarse clay and useless; you are not as we, the regenerators of the world; + go, bury yourselves elsewhere, for we cannot take the responsibility of + recommending idlers and sinners to the yearning mercy of Heaven.” + How does a soul like that stay in a carcass without getting mixed with the + secretions and sweated out through the pores? Think of this insect + condemning the whole theatrical service as a disseminator of bad morals + because it has Black Crooks in it; forgetting that if that were sufficient + ground people would condemn the pulpit because it had Crooks and Kallochs + and Sabines in it! + </p> + <p> + No, I am not trying to rob the pulpit of any atom of its full share and + credit in the work of disseminating the meat and marrow of the gospel of + Christ; but I am trying to get a moment's hearing for worthy agencies in + the same work, that with overwrought modesty seldom or never claim a + recognition of their great services. I am aware that the pulpit does its + excellent one-tenth (and credits itself with it now and then, though most + of the time a press of business causes it to forget it); I am aware that + in its honest and well-meaning way it bores the people with uninflammable + truisms about doing good; bores them with correct compositions on charity; + bores them, chloroforms them, stupefies them with argumentative mercy + without a flaw in the grammar or an emotion which the minister could put + in in the right place if he turned his back and took his finger off the + manuscript. And in doing these things the pulpit is doing its duty, and + let us believe that it is likewise doing its best, and doing it in the + most harmless and respectable way. And so I have said, and shall keep on + saying, let us give the pulpit its full share of credit in elevating and + ennobling the people; but when a pulpit takes to itself authority to pass + judgment upon the work and worth of just as legitimate an instrument of + God as itself, who spent a long life preaching from the stage the selfsame + gospel without the alteration of a single sentiment or a single axiom of + right, it is fair and just that somebody who believes that actors were + made for a high and good purpose, and that they accomplish the object of + their creation and accomplish it well, should protest. And having + protested, it is also fair and just—being driven to it, as it were—to + whisper to the Sabine pattern of clergyman, under the breath, a simple, + instructive truth, and say, “Ministers are not the only servants of + God upon earth, nor his most efficient ones, either, by a very, very long + distance!” Sensible ministers already know this, and it may do the + other kind good to find it out. + </p> + <p> + But to cease teaching and go back to the beginning again, was it not + pitiable—that spectacle? Honored and honorable old George Holland, + whose theatrical ministry had for fifty years softened hard hearts, bred + generosity in cold ones, kindled emotion in dead ones, uplifted base ones, + broadened bigoted ones, and made many and many a stricken one glad and + filled it brimful of gratitude, figuratively spit upon in his unoffending + coffin by this crawling, slimy, sanctimonious, self-righteous reptile! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_APPEk" id="link2H_APPEk"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APPENDIX K + </h2> + <h3> + A SUBSTITUTE FOR RULOFF HAVE WE A SIDNEY CARTON AMONG US? + </h3> + <p> + (See Chapter lxxxii) + </p> + <p> + To EDITOR of 'Tribune'. + </p> + <p> + SIR,—I believe in capital punishment. I believe that when a murder + has been done it should be answered for with blood. I have all my life + been taught to feel this way, and the fetters of education are strong. The + fact that the death—law is rendered almost inoperative by its very + severity does not alter my belief in its righteousness. The fact that in + England the proportion of executions to condemnations is one to sixteen, + and in this country only one to twenty-two, and in France only one to + thirty-eight, does not shake my steadfast confidence in the propriety of + retaining the death-penalty. It is better to hang one murderer in sixteen, + twenty-two, thirty-eight than not to hang any at all. + </p> + <p> + Feeling as I do, I am not sorry that Ruloff is to be hanged, but I am + sincerely sorry that he himself has made it necessary that his vast + capabilities for usefulness should be lost to the world. In this, mine and + the public's is a common regret. For it is plain that in the person of + Ruloff one of the most marvelous of intellects that any age has produced + is about to be sacrificed, and that, too, while half the mystery of its + strange powers is yet a secret. Here is a man who has never entered the + doors of a college or a university, and yet by the sheer might of his + innate gifts has made himself such a colossus in abstruse learning that + the ablest of our scholars are but pigmies in his presence. By the + evidence of Professor Mather, Mr. Surbridge, Mr. Richmond, and other men + qualified to testify, this man is as familiar with the broad domain of + philology as common men are with the passing events of the day. His memory + has such a limitless grasp that he is able to quote sentence after + sentence, paragraph after paragraph, chapter after chapter, from a gnarled + and knotty ancient literature that ordinary scholars are capable of + achieving little more than a bowing acquaintance with. But his memory is + the least of his great endowments. By the testimony of the gentlemen above + referred to he is able to critically analyze the works of the old masters + of literature, and while pointing out the beauties of the originals with a + pure and discriminating taste is as quick to detect the defects of the + accepted translations; and in the latter case, if exceptions be taken to + his judgment, he straightway opens up the quarries of his exhaustless + knowledge, and builds a very Chinese wall of evidence around his position. + Every learned man who enters Ruloff's presence leaves it amazed and + confounded by his prodigious capabilities and attainments. One scholar + said he did not believe that in matters of subtle analysis, vast knowledge + in his peculiar field of research, comprehensive grasp of subject, and + serene kingship over its limitless and bewildering details, any land or + any era of modern times had given birth to Ruloff's intellectual equal. + What miracles this murderer might have wrought, and what luster he might + have shed upon his country, if he had not put a forfeit upon his life so + foolishly! But what if the law could be satisfied, and the gifted criminal + still be saved. If a life be offered up on the gallows to atone for the + murder Ruloff did, will that suffice? If so, give me the proofs, for in + all earnestness and truth I aver that in such a case I will instantly + bring forward a man who, in the interests of learning and science, will + take Ruloff's crime upon himself, and submit to be hanged in Ruloff's + place. I can, and will do this thing; and I propose this matter, and make + this offer in good faith. You know me, and know my address. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SAMUEL LANGHORNE. + April 29, 1871. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_APPEl" id="link2H_APPEl"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APPENDIX L. ABOUT LONDON + </h2> + <p> + ADDRESS AT A DINNER GIVEN BY THE SAVAGE CLUB, LONDON, SEPTEMBER 28, 1872. + </p> + <p> + (See Chapter lxxxvii) + </p> + <p> + Reported by Moncure D. Conway in the Cincinnati Commercial + </p> + <p> + It affords me sincere pleasure to meet this distinguished club, a club + which has extended its hospitalities and its cordial welcome to so many of + my countrymen. I hope [and here the speaker's voice became low and + fluttering] you will excuse these clothes. I am going to the theater; that + will explain these clothes. I have other clothes than these. Judging human + nature by what I have seen of it, I suppose that the customary thing for a + stranger to do when he stands here is to make a pun on the name of this + club, under the impression, of course, that he is the first man that that + idea has occurred to. It is a credit to our human nature, not a blemish + upon it; for it shows that underlying all our depravity (and God knows and + you know we are depraved enough) and all our sophistication, and + untarnished by them, there is a sweet germ of innocence and simplicity + still. When a stranger says to me, with a glow of inspiration in his eye, + some gentle, innocuous little thing about “Twain and one flesh” + and all that sort of thing, I don't try to crush that man into the earth—no. + I feel like saying, “Let me take you by the hand, sir; let me + embrace you; I have not heard that pun for weeks.” We will deal in + palpable puns. We will call parties named King “your Majesty” + and we will say to the Smiths that we think we have heard that name before + somewhere. Such is human nature. We cannot alter this. It is God that made + us so for some good and wise purpose. Let us not repine. But though I may + seem strange, may seem eccentric, I mean to refrain from punning upon the + name of this club, though I could make a very good one if I had time to + think about it—a week. + </p> + <p> + I cannot express to you what entire enjoyment I find in this first visit + to this prodigious metropolis of yours. Its wonders seem to me to be + limitless. I go about as in a dream—as in a realm of enchantment—where + many things are rare and beautiful, and all things are strange and + marvelous. Hour after hour I stand—I stand spellbound, as it + were-and gaze upon the statuary in Leicester Square. [Leicester Square + being a horrible chaos, with the relic of an equestrian statue in the + center, the king being headless and limbless, and the horse in little + better condition.] I visit the mortuary effigies of noble old Henry VIII., + and Judge Jeffreys, and the preserved gorilla, and try to make up my mind + which of my ancestors I admire the most. I go to that matchless Hyde Park + and drive all around it, and then I start to enter it at the Marble Arch—and + am induced to “change my mind.” [Cabs are not permitted in + Hyde Park—nothing less aristocratic than a private carriage.] It is + a great benefaction—is Hyde Park. There, in his hansom cab, the + invalid can go—the poor, sad child of misfortune—and insert + his nose between the railings, and breathe the pure, health-giving air of + the country and of heaven. And if he is a swell invalid who isn't obliged + to depend upon parks for his country air he can drive inside—if he + owns his vehicle. I drive round and round Hyde Park and the more I see of + the edges of it the more grateful I am that the margin is extensive. + </p> + <p> + And I have been to the Zoological Gardens. What a wonderful place that is! + I have never seen such a curious and interesting variety of wild-animals + in any garden before—except Mabille. I never believed before there + were so many different kinds of animals in the world as you can find there—and + I don't believe it yet. I have been to the British Museum. I would advise + you to drop in there some time when you have nothing to do for—five + minutes—if you have never been there. It seems to me the noblest + monument this nation has, yet erected to her greatness. I say to her, our + greatness—as a nation. True, she has built other monuments, and + stately ones, as well; but these she has uplifted in honor of two or three + colossal demigods who have stalked across the world's stage, destroying + tyrants and delivering nations, and whose prodigies will still live in the + memories of men ages after their monuments shall have crumbled to dust—I + refer to the Wellington and Nelson monuments, and—the Albert + memorial. [Sarcasm. The Albert memorial is the finest monument in the + world, and celebrates the existence of as commonplace a person as good + luck ever lifted out of obscurity.] + </p> + <p> + The Library at the British Museum I find particularly astounding. I have + read there hours together, and hardly made an impression on it. I revere + that library. It is the author's friend. I don't care how mean a book is, + it always takes one copy. [A copy of every book printed in Great Britain + must by law be sent to the British Museum, a law much complained of by + publishers.] And then every day that author goes there to gaze at that + book, and is encouraged to go on in the good work. And what a touching + sight it is of a Saturday afternoon to see the poor, careworn clergymen + gathered together in that vast reading-room cabbaging sermons for Sunday! + You will pardon my referring to these things. Everything in this monster + city interests me, and I cannot keep from talking, even at the risk of + being instructive. People here seem always to express distances by + parables. To a stranger it is just a little confusing to be so parabolic—so + to speak. I collar a citizen, and I think I am going to get some valuable + information out of him. I ask him how far it is to Birmingham, and he says + it is twenty-one shillings and sixpence. Now we know that doesn't help a + man who is trying to learn. I find myself down-town somewhere, and I want + to get some sort of idea where I am—being usually lost when alone—and + I stop a citizen and say, “How far is it to Charing Cross?” + “Shilling fare in a cab,” and off he goes. I suppose if I were + to ask a Londoner how far it is from the sublime to the ridiculous he + would try to express it in a coin. But I am trespassing upon your time + with these geological statistics and historical reflections. I will not + longer keep you from your orgies. 'Tis a real pleasure for me to be here, + and I thank you for it. The name of the Savage Club is associated in my + mind with the kindly interest and the friendly offices which you lavished + upon an old friend of mine who came among you a stranger, and you opened + your English hearts to him and gave him a welcome and a home—Artemus + Ward. Asking that you will join me, I give you his Memory. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_APPEm" id="link2H_APPEm"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APPENDIX M + </h2> + <p> + LETTER WRITTEN TO MRS. CLEMENS FROM BOSTON, NOVEMBER, 1874, PROPHESYING A + MONARCHY IN SIXTY-ONE YEARS. + </p> + <p> + (See Chapter xcvii) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + BOSTON, November 16, 1935. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR LIVY,—You observe I still call this beloved old place by the + name it had when I was young. Limerick! It is enough to make a body sick. + </p> + <p> + The gentlemen-in-waiting stare to see me sit here telegraphing this letter + to you, and no doubt they are smiling in their sleeves. But let them! The + slow old fashions are good enough for me, thank God, and I will none + other. When I see one of these modern fools sit absorbed, holding the end + of a telegraph wire in his hand, and reflect that a thousand miles away + there is another fool hitched to the other end of it, it makes me frantic + with rage; and then I am more implacably fixed and resolved than ever to + continue taking twenty minutes to telegraph you what I might communicate + in ten seconds by the new way if I would so debase myself. And when I see + a whole silent, solemn drawing-room full of idiots sitting with their + hands on each other's foreheads “communing” I tug the white + hairs from my head and curse till my asthma brings me the blessed relief + of suffocation. In our old day such a gathering talked pure drivel and + “rot,” mostly, but better that, a thousand times, than these + dreary conversational funerals that oppress our spirits in this mad + generation. + </p> + <p> + It is sixty years since I was here before. I walked hither then with my + precious old friend. It seems incredible now that we did it in two days, + but such is my recollection. I no longer mention that we walked back in a + single day, it makes me so furious to see doubt in the face of the hearer. + Men were men in those old times. Think of one of the puerile organisms in + this effeminate age attempting such a feat. + </p> + <p> + My air-ship was delayed by a collision with a fellow from China loaded + with the usual cargo of jabbering, copper-colored missionaries, and so I + was nearly an hour on my journey. But by the goodness of God thirteen of + the missionaries were crippled and several killed, so I was content to + lose the time. I love to lose time anyway because it brings soothing + reminiscences of the creeping railroad days of old, now lost to us + forever. + </p> + <p> + Our game was neatly played, and successfully. None expected us, of course. + You should have seen the guards at the ducal palace stare when I said, + “Announce his Grace the Archbishop of Dublin and the Right Honorable + the Earl of Hartford.” Arrived within, we were all eyes to see the + Duke of Cambridge and his Duchess, wondering if we might remember their + faces and they ours. In a moment they came tottering in; he, bent and + withered and bald; she, blooming with wholesome old age. He peered through + his glasses a moment, then screeched in a reedy voice, “Come to my + arms! Away with titles—I'll know ye by no names but Twain and + Twichell!” Then fell he on our necks and jammed his trumpet in his + ear, the which we filled with shoutings to this effect: “God bless + you, old Howells, what is left of you!” + </p> + <p> + We talked late that night—none of your silent idiot “communings” + for us—of the olden time. We rolled a stream of ancient anecdotes + over our tongues and drank till the Lord Archbishop grew so mellow in the + mellow past that Dublin ceased to be Dublin to him, and resumed its + sweeter, forgotten name of New York. In truth he almost got back into his + ancient religion, too, good Jesuit as he has always been since O'Mulligan + the First established that faith in the empire. + </p> + <p> + And we canvassed everybody. Bailey Aldrich, Marquis of Ponkapog, came in, + got nobly drunk, and told us all about how poor Osgood lost his earldom + and was hanged for conspiring against the second Emperor; but he didn't + mention how near he himself came to being hanged, too, for engaging in the + same enterprise. He was as chaffy as he was sixty years ago, too, and + swore the Archbishop and I never walked to Boston; but there was never a + day that Ponkapog wouldn't lie, so be it by the grace of God he got the + opportunity. + </p> + <p> + The Lord High Admiral came in, a hale gentleman close upon seventy and + bronzed by the suns and storms of many climes and scarred by the wounds + got in many battles, and I told him how I had seen him sit in a high-chair + and eat fruit and cakes and answer to the name of Johnny. His + granddaughter (the eldest) is but lately married to the youngest of the + Grand Dukes, and so who knows but a day may come when the blood of the + Howellses may reign in the land? I must not forget to say, while I think + of it, that your new false teeth are done, my dear, and your wig. Keep + your head well bundled with a shawl till the latter comes, and so cheat + your persecuting neuralgias and rheumatisms. Would you believe it?—the + Duchess of Cambridge is deafer than you—deafer than her husband. + They call her to breakfast with a salvo of artillery; and usually when it + thunders she looks up expectantly and says, “Come in.” But she + has become subdued and gentle with age and never destroys the furniture + now, except when uncommonly vexed. God knows, my dear, it would be a happy + thing if you and old Lady Harmony would imitate this spirit. But indeed + the older you grow the less secure becomes the furniture. When I throw + chairs through the window I have sufficient reason to back it. But you—you + are but a creature of passion. + </p> + <p> + The monument to the author of 'Gloverson and His Silent Partners' is + finished.—[Ralph Keeler. See chap. lxxxiii.]—It is the + stateliest and the costliest ever erected to the memory of any man. This + noble classic has now been translated into all the languages of the earth + and is adored by all nations and known to all creatures. Yet I have + conversed as familiarly with the author of it as I do with my own + great-grandchildren. + </p> + <p> + I wish you could see old Cambridge and Ponkapog. I love them as dearly as + ever, but privately, my dear, they are not much improvement on idiots. It + is melancholy to hear them jabber over the same pointless anecdotes three + and four times of an evening, forgetting that they had jabbered them over + three or four times the evening before. Ponkapog still writes poetry, but + the old-time fire has mostly gone out of it. Perhaps his best effort of + late years is this: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + O soul, soul, soul of mine! + Soul, soul, soul of throe! + Thy soul, my soul, two souls entwine, + And sing thy lauds in crystal wine! +</pre> + <p> + This he goes about repeating to everybody, daily and nightly, insomuch + that he is become a sore affliction to all that know him. + </p> + <p> + But I must desist. There are draughts here everywhere and my gout is + something frightful. My left foot hath resemblance to a snuff-bladder. God + be with you. HARTFORD. + </p> + <p> + These to Lady Hartford, in the earldom of Hartford, in the upper portion + of the city of Dublin. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_APPEn" id="link2H_APPEn"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APPENDIX N + </h2> + <h3> + MARK TWAIN AND COPYRIGHT + </h3> + <p> + I. PETITION + </p> + <p> + Concerning Copyright (1875) (See Chapter cii) + </p> + <p> + TO THE SENATE AND HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES OF THE UNITED STATES IN + CONGRESS ASSEMBLED. + </p> + <p> + We, your petitioners, do respectfully represent as follows, viz.: That + justice, plain and simple, is a thing which right-feeling men stand ready + at all times to accord to brothers and strangers alike. All such men will + concede that it is but plain, simple justice that American authors should + be protected by copyright in Europe; also, that European authors should be + protected by copyright here. + </p> + <p> + Both divisions of this proposition being true, it behooves our government + to concern itself with that division of it which comes peculiarly within + its province—viz., the latter moiety—and to grant to foreign + authors with all convenient despatch a full and effective copyright in + America without marring the grace of the act by stopping to inquire + whether a similar justice will be done our own authors by foreign + governments. If it were even known that those governments would not extend + this justice to us it would still not justify us in withholding this + manifest right from their authors. If a thing is right it ought to be done—the + thing called “expediency” or “policy” has no + concern with such a matter. And we desire to repeat, with all respect, + that it is not a grace or a privilege we ask for our foreign brethren, but + a right—a right received from God, and only denied them by man. We + hold no ownership in these authors, and when we take their work from them, + as at present, without their consent, it is robbery. The fact that the + handiwork of our own authors is seized in the same way in foreign lands + neither excuses nor mitigates our sin. + </p> + <p> + With your permission we will say here, over our signatures, and earnestly + and sincerely, that we very greatly desire that you shall grant a full + copyright to foreign authors (the copyright fee for the entry in the + office of the Congressional Librarian to be the same as we pay ourselves), + and we also as greatly desire that this grant shall be made without a + single hampering stipulation that American authors shall receive in turn + an advantage of any kind from foreign governments. + </p> + <p> + Since no author who was applied to hesitated for a moment to append his + signature to this petition we are satisfied that if time had permitted we + could have procured the signature of every writer in the United States, + great and small, obscure or famous. As it is, the list comprises the names + of about all our writers whose works have at present a European market, + and who are therefore chiefly concerned in this matter. + </p> + <p> + No objection to our proposition can come from any reputable publisher + among us—or does come from such a quarter, as the appended + signatures of our greatest publishing firms will attest. A European + copyright here would be a manifest advantage to them. As the matter stands + now the moment they have thoroughly advertised a desirable foreign book, + and thus at great expense aroused public interest in it, some + small-spirited speculator (who has lain still in his kennel and spent + nothing) rushes the same book on the market and robs the respectable + publisher of half the gains. + </p> + <p> + Then, since neither our authors nor the decent among our publishing firms + will object to granting an American copyright to foreign authors and + artists, who can there be to object? Surely nobody whose protest is + entitled to any weight. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Trusting in the righteousness of our cause we, your petitioners, will +ever pray, etc. With great respect, + Your Ob't Serv'ts. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0323" id="link2H_4_0323"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CIRCULAR TO AMERICAN AUTHORS AND PUBLISHERS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +DEAR SIR,—We believe that you will recognize the justice and the +righteousness of the thing we desire to accomplish through the +accompanying petition. And we believe that you will be willing that our +country shall be the first in the world to grant to all authors alike +the free exercise of their manifest right to do as they please with the +fruit of their own labor without inquiring what flag they live under. If +the sentiments of the petition meet your views, will you do us the favor +to sign it and forward it by post at your earliest convenience to our +secretary? + + }Committee +Address —————————-Secretary of the Committee. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0324" id="link2H_4_0324"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. Communications supposed to have been written by the Tsar of Russia + </h2> + <p> + and the Sultan of Turkey to Mark Twain on the subject of International + Copyright, about 1890. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ST. PETERSBURG, February. +</pre> + <p> + COL. MARK TWAIN, Washington. + </p> + <p> + Your cablegram received. It should have been transmitted through my + minister, but let that pass. I am opposed to international copyright. At + present American literature is harmless here because we doctor it in such + a way as to make it approve the various beneficent devices which we use to + keep our people favorable to fetters as jewelry and pleased with Siberia + as a summer resort. But your bill would spoil this. We should be obliged + to let you say your say in your own way. 'Voila'! my empire would be a + republic in five years and I should be sampling Siberia myself. + </p> + <p> + If you should run across Mr. Kennan—[George Kennan, who had + graphically pictured the fearful conditions of Siberian exile.]—please + ask him to come over and give some readings. I will take good care of him. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ALEXANDER III. +</pre> + <p> + 144—Collect. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + CONSTANTINOPLE, February. +</pre> + <p> + DR. MARK TWAIN, Washington. + </p> + <p> + Great Scott, no! By the beard of the Prophet, no! How can you ask such a + thing of me? I am a man of family. I cannot take chances, like other + people. I cannot let a literature come in here which teaches that a man's + wife is as good as the man himself. Such a doctrine cannot do any + particular harm, of course, where the man has only one wife, for then it + is a dead-level between them, and there is no humiliating inequality, and + no resulting disorder; but you take an extremely married person, like me, + and go to teaching that his wife is 964 times as good as he is, and what's + hell to that harem, dear friend? I never saw such a fool as you. Do not + mind that expression; I already regret it, and would replace it with a + softer one if I could do it without debauching the truth. I beseech you, + do not pass that bill. Roberts College is quite all the American product + we can stand just now. On top of that, do you want to send us a flood of + freedom-shrieking literature which we can't edit the poison out of, but + must let it go among our people just as it is? My friend, we should be a + republic inside of ten years. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ABDUL II. +</pre> + <p> + III. MARK TWAIN'S LAST SUGGESTION ON COPYRIGHT. + </p> + <p> + A MEMORIAL RESPECTFULLY TENDERED TO THE MEMBERS OF THE SENATE AND THE + HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES. + </p> + <p> + (Prepared early in 1909 at the suggestion of Mr. Champ Clack but not + offered. A bill adding fourteen years to the copyright period was passed + about this time.) + </p> + <p> + The Policy of Congress:—Nineteen or twenty years ago James Russell + Lowell, George Haven Putnam, and the under signed appeared before the + Senate Committee on Patents in the interest of Copyright. Up to that time, + as explained by Senator Platt, of Connecticut, the policy of Congress had + been to limit the life of a copyright by a term of years, with one + definite end in view, and only one—to wit, that after an author had + been permitted to enjoy for a reasonable length of time the income from + literary property created by his hand and brain the property should then + be transferred “to the public” as a free gift. That is still + the policy of Congress to-day. + </p> + <p> + The Purpose in View:—The purpose in view was clear: to so reduce the + price of the book as to bring it within the reach of all purses, and + spread it among the millions who had not been able to buy it while it was + still under the protection of copyright. + </p> + <p> + The Purpose Defeated:—This purpose has always been defeated. That is + to say, that while the death of a copyright has sometimes reduced the + price of a book by a half for a while, and in some cases by even more, it + has never reduced it vastly, nor accomplished any reduction that was + permanent and secure. + </p> + <p> + The Reason:—The reason is simple: Congress has never made a + reduction compulsory. Congress was convinced that the removal of the + author's royalty and the book's consequent (or at least probable) + dispersal among several competing publishers would make the book cheap by + force of the competition. It was an error. It has not turned out so. The + reason is, a publisher cannot find profit in an exceedingly cheap edition + if he must divide the market with competitors. + </p> + <p> + Proposed Remedy:—The natural remedy would seem to be, amended law + requiring the issue of cheap editions. + </p> + <p> + Copyright Extension:—I think the remedy could be accomplished in the + following way, without injury to author or publisher, and with extreme + advantage to the public: by an amendment to the existing law providing as + follows—to wit: that at any time between the beginning of a book's + forty-first year and the ending of its forty-second the owner of the + copyright may extend its life thirty years by issuing and placing on sale + an edition of the book at one-tenth the price of the cheapest edition + hitherto issued at any time during the ten immediately preceding years. + This extension to lapse and become null and void if at any time during the + thirty years he shall fail during the space of three consecutive months to + furnish the ten per cent. book upon demand of any person or persons + desiring to buy it. + </p> + <p> + The Result:—The result would be that no American classic enjoying + the thirty-year extension would ever be out of the reach of any American + purse, let its uncompulsory price be what it might. He would get a + two-dollar book for 20 cents, and he could get none but copyright-expired + classics at any such rate. + </p> + <p> + The Final Result:—At the end of the thirty-year extension the + copyright would again die, and the price would again advance. This by a + natural law, the excessively cheap edition no longer carrying with it an + advantage to any publisher. + </p> + <p> + Reconstruction of The Present Law Not Necessary:—A clause of the + suggested amendment could read about as follows, and would obviate the + necessity of taking the present law to pieces and building it over again: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + All books and all articles enjoying forty-two years copyright-life + under the present law shall be admitted to the privilege of the + thirty-year extension upon complying with the condition requiring + the producing and placing upon permanent sale of one grade or form + of said book or article at a price of 90 per cent. below the + cheapest rate at which said book or article had been placed upon the + market at any time during the immediately preceding ten years. + + REMARKS +</pre> + <p> + If the suggested amendment shall meet with the favor of the present + Congress and become law—and I hope it will—I shall have + personal experience of its effects very soon. Next year, in fact, in the + person of my first book, 'The Innocents Abroad'. For its forty-two-year + copyright-life will then cease and its thirty-year extension begin—and + with the latter the permanent low-rate edition. At present the highest + price of the book is eight dollars, and its lowest price three dollars per + copy. Thus the permanent low rate will be thirty cents per copy. A + sweeping reduction like this is what Congress from the beginning has + desired to achieve, but has not been able to accomplish because no + inducement was offered to publishers to run the risk. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Respectfully submitted, + + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> + <p> + (A full and interesting elucidation of Mark Twain's views on Copyright may + be found in an article entitled “Concerning Copyright,” + published in the North American Review for January, 1905.) + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_APPEo" id="link2H_APPEo"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APPENDIX O + </h2> + <h3> + (See Chapter cxiv) + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Address of Samuel L. Clemens (Mark Twain) from a report of the + dinner given by the publishers of the Atlantic Monthly in honor of + the Seventieth Anniversary of the Birth of John Greenleaf Whittier, + at the Hotel Brunswick, Boston, December 17, 1877, as published in + the Boston Evening Transcript, December 18, 1877. +</pre> + <p> + MR. CHAIRMAN, This is an occasion peculiarly meet for the digging up of + pleasant reminiscences concerning literary folk, therefore I will drop + lightly into history myself. Standing here on the shore of the Atlantic, + and contemplating certain of its largest literary billows, I am reminded + of a thing which happened to me thirteen years ago, when I had just + succeeded in stirring up a little Nevadian literary puddle myself, whose + spume-flakes were beginning to blow thinly California-ward. I started an + inspection tramp through the southern mines of California. I was callow + and conceited, and I resolved to try the virtue of my 'nom de guerre'. I + very soon had an opportunity. I knocked at a miner's lonely log cabin in + the foothills of the Sierras just at nightfall. It was snowing at the + time. A jaded, melancholy man of fifty, barefooted, opened the door to me. + When he heard my 'nom de guerre' he looked more dejected than before. He + let me in-pretty reluctantly, I thought—and after the customary + bacon and beans, black coffee and hot whisky, I took a pipe. This + sorrowful man had not said three words up to this time. Now he spoke up + and said, in the voice of one who is secretly suffering, “You're the + fourth—I'm going to move.” “The fourth what?” said + I. “The fourth littery man that has been here in twenty-four hours—I'm + going to move.” “You don't tell me!” said I; “who + were the others?” “Mr. Longfellow. Mr. Emerson, and Mr. Oliver + Wendell Holmes—consound the lot!” + </p> + <p> + You can easily believe I was interested. I supplicated—three hot + whiskies did the rest—and finally the melancholy miner began. Said + he: + </p> + <p> + “They came here just at dark yesterday evening, and I let them in, + of course. Said they were going to the Yosemite. They were a rough lot, + but that's nothing; everybody looks rough that travels afoot. Mr. Emerson + was a seedy little bit of a chap, red-headed. Mr. Holmes was as fat as a + balloon; he weighed as much as three hundered, and had double chins all + the way down to his stomach. Mr. Longfellow was built like a + prize-fighter. His head was cropped and bristly, like as if he had a wig + made of hair-brushes. His nose lay straight down in his face, like a + finger with the end joint tilted up. They had been drinking, I could see + that. And what queer talk they used! Mr. Holmes inspected this cabin, then + he took me by the buttonhole and says he: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'Through the deep caves of thought + I hear a voice that sings, + + “Build thee more stately mansions, + O my soul!”' +</pre> + <p> + “Says I, 'I can't afford it, Mr. Holmes, and moreover I don't want + to.' Blamed if I liked it pretty well, either, coming from a stranger that + way. However, I started to get out my bacon and beans when Mr. Emerson + came and looked on awhile, and then he takes me aside by the buttonhole + and says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'Give me agates for my meat; + Give me cantharids to eat; + From air and ocean bring me foods, + From all zones and altitudes.' +</pre> + <p> + “Says I, 'Mr. Emerson, if you'll excuse me, this ain't no hotel.' + You see, it sort of riled me—I warn't used to the ways of Jittery + swells. But I went on a-sweating over my work, and next comes Mr. + Longfellow and buttonholes me and interrupts me. Says he: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'Honor be to Mudjekeewis! + You shall hear how Pau-Puk-Keewis—' +</pre> + <p> + “But I broke in, and says I, 'Beg your pardon, Mr. Longfellow, if + you'll be so kind as to hold your yawp for about five minutes and let me + get this grub ready, you'll do me proud.' Well, sir, after they'd filled + up I set out the jug. Mr. Holmes looks at it and then he fires up all of a + sudden and yells: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'Flash out a stream of blood-red wine! + For I would drink to other days.' +</pre> + <p> + “By George, I was getting kind of worked up. I don't deny it, I was + getting kind of worked up. I turns to Mr. Holmes and says I, 'Looky here, + my fat friend, I'm a-running this shanty, and if the court knows herself + you'll take whisky straight or you'll go dry.' Them's the very words I + said to him. Now I don't want to sass such famous Littery people, but you + see they kind of forced me. There ain't nothing onreasonable 'bout me. I + don't mind a passel of guests a-treadin' on my tail three or four times, + but when it comes to standing on it it's different, 'and if the court + knows herself,' I says, 'you'll take whisky straight or you'll go dry.' + Well, between drinks they'd swell around the cabin and strike attitudes + and spout; and pretty soon they got out a greasy old deck and went to + playing euchre at ten cents a corner—on trust. I began to notice + some pretty suspicious things. Mr. Emerson dealt, looked at his hand, + shook his head, says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'I am the doubter and the doubt—' +</pre> + <p> + and calmly bunched the hands and went to shuffling for a new lay-out. Says + he: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'They reckon ill who leave me out; + They know not well the subtle ways I keep. + I pass and deal again!' +</pre> + <p> + Hang'd if he didn't go ahead and do it, too! Oh, he was a cool one! Well, + in about a minute things were running pretty tight, but all of a sudden I + see by Mr. Emerson's eye he judged he had 'em. He had already corralled + two tricks and each of the others one. So now he kind of lifts a little in + his chair and says, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'I tire of globes and aces! + Too long the game is played!' +</pre> + <p> + and down he fetched a right bower. Mr. Longfellow smiles as sweet as pie + and says, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, + For the lesson thou hast taught,' +</pre> + <p> + and blamed if he didn't down with another right bower! Emerson claps his + hand on his bowie, Longfellow claps his on his revolver, and I went under + a bunk. There was going to be trouble; but that monstrous Holmes rose up, + wobbling his double chins, and says he, 'Order, gentlemen; the first man + that draws I'll lay down on him and smother him!' All quiet on the + Potomac, you bet! + </p> + <p> + “They were pretty how-come-you-so by now, and they begun to blow. + Emerson says, 'The noblest thing I ever wrote was “Barbara + Frietchie.”' Says Longfellow, 'It don't begin with my “Bigelow + Papers.”' Says Holmes, 'My “Thanatopsis” lays over 'em + both.' They mighty near ended in a fight. Then they wished they had some + more company, and Mr. Emerson pointed to me and says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'Is yonder squalid peasant all + That this proud nursery could breed?' +</pre> + <p> + He was a-whetting his bowie on his boot—so I let it pass. Well, sir, + next they took it into their heads that they would like some music; so + they made me stand up and sing, 'When Johnny Comes Marching Home' till I + dropped—at thirteen minutes past four this morning. That's what I've + been through, my friend. When I woke at seven they were leaving, thank + goodness, and Mr. Longfellow had my only boots on and his'n under his arm. + Says I, 'Hold on there, Evangeline, what are you going to do with them?' + He says, 'Going to make tracks with 'em, because— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'Lives of great men all remind us + We can make our lives sublime; + And, departing, leave behind us + Footprints on the sands of time.' +</pre> + <p> + “As I said, Mr. Twain, you are the fourth in twenty-four hours and + I'm going to move; I ain't suited to a Littery atmosphere.” + </p> + <p> + I said to the miner, “Why, my dear sir, these were not the gracious + singers to whom we and the world pay loving reverence and homage; these + were impostors.” + </p> + <p> + The miner investigated me with a calm eye for a while; then said he, + “Ah! impostors, were they? Are you?” + </p> + <p> + I did not pursue the subject, and since then I have not traveled on my + 'nom de guerre' enough to hurt. Such was the reminiscence I was moved to + contribute, Mr. Chairman. In my enthusiasm I may have exaggerated the + details a little, but you will easily forgive me that fault, since I + believe it is the first time I have ever deflected from perpendicular fact + on an occasion like this. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_APPEp" id="link2H_APPEp"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APPENDIX P + </h2> + <h3> + THE ADAM MONUMENT PETITION + </h3> + <p> + (See Chapter cxxxiv) + </p> + <p> + TO THE HONORABLE SENATE AND HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES OF THE UNITED STATES + IN CONGRESS ASSEMBLED. + </p> + <p> + WHEREAS, A number of citizens of the city of Elmira in the State of New + York having covenanted among themselves to erect in that city a monument + in memory of Adam, the father of mankind, being moved thereto by a + sentiment of love and duty, and these having appointed the undersigned to + communicate with your honorable body, we beg leave to lay before you the + following facts and append to the same our humble petition. + </p> + <p> + 1. As far as is known no monument has ever been raised in any part of the + world to commemorate the services rendered to our race by this great man, + whilst many men of far less note and worship have been rendered immortal + by means of stately and indestructible memorials. + </p> + <p> + 2. The common father of mankind has been suffered to lie in entire + neglect, although even the Father of our Country has now, and has had for + many years, a monument in course of construction. + </p> + <p> + 3. No right-feeling human being can desire to see this neglect continued, + but all just men, even to the farthest regions of the globe, should and + will rejoice to know that he to whom we owe existence is about to have + reverent and fitting recognition of his works at the hands of the people + of Elmira. His labors were not in behalf of one locality, but for the + extension of humanity at large and the blessings which go therewith; hence + all races and all colors and all religions are interested in seeing that + his name and fame shall be placed beyond the reach of the blight of + oblivion by a permanent and suitable monument. + </p> + <p> + 4. It will be to the imperishable credit of the United States if this + monument shall be set up within her borders; moreover, it will be a + peculiar grace to the beneficiary if this testimonial of affection and + gratitude shall be the gift of the youngest of the nations that have + sprung from his loins after 6,000 years of unappreciation on the part of + its elders. + </p> + <p> + 5. The idea of this sacred enterprise having originated in the city of + Elmira, she will be always grateful if the general government shall + encourage her in the good work by securing to her a certain advantage + through the exercise of its great authority. + </p> + <p> + Therefore, Your petitioners beg that your honorable body will be pleased + to issue a decree restricting to Elmira the right to build a monument to + Adam and inflicting a heavy penalty upon any other community within the + United States that shall propose or attempt to erect a monument or other + memorial to the said Adam, and to this end we will ever pray. + </p> + <p> + NAMES: (100 signatures) + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_APPEq" id="link2H_APPEq"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APPENDIX Q + </h2> + <h3> + GENERAL GRANT'S GRAMMAR + </h3> + <p> + (Written in 1886. Delivered at an Army and Navy Club dinner in New York + City) + </p> + <p> + Lately a great and honored author, Matthew Arnold, has been finding fault + with General Grant's English. That would be fair enough, maybe, if the + examples of imperfect English averaged more instances to the page in + General Grant's book than they do in Arnold's criticism on the book—but + they do not. It would be fair enough, maybe, if such instances were + commoner in General Grant's book than they are in the works of the average + standard author—but they are not. In fact, General Grant's + derelictions in the matter of grammar and construction are not more + frequent than such derelictions in the works of a majority of the + professional authors of our time, and of all previous times—authors + as exclusively and painstakingly trained to the literary trade as was + General Grant to the trade of war. This is not a random statement: it is a + fact, and easily demonstrable. I have a book at home called Modern English + Literature: Its Blemishes and Defects, by Henry H. Breen, a countryman of + Mr. Arnold. In it I find examples of bad grammar and slovenly English from + the pens of Sydney Smith, Sheridan, Hallam, Whately, Carlyle, Disraeli, + Allison, Junius, Blair, Macaulay, Shakespeare, Milton, Gibbon, Southey, + Lamb, Landor, Smollett, Walpole, Walker (of the dictionary), Christopher + North, Kirk White, Benjamin Franklin, Sir Walter Scott, and Mr. Lindley + Murray (who made the grammar). + </p> + <p> + In Mr. Arnold's criticism on General Grant's book we find two grammatical + crimes and more than several examples of very crude and slovenly English, + enough of them to entitle him to a lofty place in the illustrious list of + delinquents just named. + </p> + <p> + The following passage all by itself ought to elect him: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Meade suggested to Grant that he might wish to have immediately + under him Sherman, who had been serving with Grant in the West. He + begged him not to hesitate if he thought it for the good of the + service. Grant assured him that he had not thought of moving him, + and in his memoirs, after relating what had passed, he adds, etc.” + </pre> + <p> + To read that passage a couple of times would make a man dizzy; to read it + four times would make him drunk. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Breen makes this discriminating remark: “To suppose that because + a man is a poet or a historian he must be correct in his grammar is to + suppose that an architect must be a joiner, or a physician a compounder of + medicine.” + </p> + <p> + People may hunt out what microscopic motes they please, but, after all, + the fact remains, and cannot be dislodged, that General Grant's book is a + great and, in its peculiar department, a unique and unapproachable + literary masterpiece. In their line there is no higher literature than + those modest, simple memoirs. Their style is at least flawless and no man + could improve upon it, and great books are weighed and measured by their + style and matter, and not by the trimmings and shadings of their grammar. + </p> + <p> + There is that about the sun which makes us forget his spots, and when we + think of General Grant our pulses quicken and his grammar vanishes; we + only remember that this is the simple soldier who, all untaught of the + silken phrase-makers, linked words together with an art surpassing the art + of the schools and put into them a something which will still bring to + American ears, as long as America shall last, the roll of his vanished + drums and the tread of his marching hosts. What do we care for grammar + when we think of those thunderous phrases, “Unconditional and + immediate surrender,” “I propose to move immediately upon your + works,” “I propose to fight it out on this line if it takes + all summer.” Mr. Arnold would doubtless claim that that last phrase + is not strictly grammatical, and yet it did certainly wake up this nation + as a hundred million tons of A-number-one fourth-proof, hard-boiled, + hide-bound grammar from another mouth could not have done. And finally we + have that gentler phrase, that one which shows you another true side of + the man, shows you that in his soldier heart there was room for other than + gory war mottoes and in his tongue the gift to fitly phrase them: “Let + us have peace.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_APPEr" id="link2H_APPEr"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APPENDIX R + </h2> + <h3> + PARTY ALLEGIANCE. + </h3> + <p> + BEING A PORTION OF A PAPER ON “CONSISTENCY,” READ BEFORE THE + MONDAY EVENING CLUB IN 1887. + </p> + <p> + (See Chapter clxiii) + </p> + <p> + ... I have referred to the fact that when a man retires from his political + party he is a traitor—that he is so pronounced in plain language. + That is bold; so bold as to deceive many into the fancy that it is true. + Desertion, treason—these are the terms applied. Their military form + reveals the thought in the man's mind who uses them: to him a political + party is an army. Well, is it? Are the two things identical? Do they even + resemble each other? Necessarily a political party is not an army of + conscripts, for they are in the ranks by compulsion. Then it must be a + regular army or an army of volunteers. Is it a regular army? No, for these + enlist for a specified and well-understood term, and can retire without + reproach when the term is up. Is it an army of volunteers who have + enlisted for the war, and may righteously be shot if they leave before the + war is finished? No, it is not even an army in that sense. Those fine + military terms are high-sounding, empty lies, and are no more rationally + applicable to a political party than they would be to an oyster-bed. The + volunteer soldier comes to the recruiting office and strips himself and + proves that he is so many feet high, and has sufficiently good teeth, and + no fingers gone, and is sufficiently sound in body generally; he is + accepted; but not until he has sworn a deep oath or made other solemn form + of promise to march under, that flag until that war is done or his term of + enlistment completed. What is the process when a voter joins a party? Must + he prove that he is sound in any way, mind or body? Must he prove that he + knows anything—is capable of anything—whatever? Does he take + an oath or make a promise of any sort?—or doesn't he leave himself + entirely free? If he were informed by the political boss that if he join, + it must be forever; that he must be that party's chattel and wear its + brass collar the rest of his days—would not that insult him? It goes + without saying. He would say some rude, unprintable thing, and turn his + back on that preposterous organization. But the political boss puts no + conditions upon him at all; and this volunteer makes no promises, enlists + for no stated term. He has in no sense become a part of an army; he is in + no way restrained of his freedom. Yet he will presently find that his + bosses and his newspapers have assumed just the reverse of that: that they + have blandly arrogated to themselves an ironclad military authority over + him; and within twelve months, if he is an average man, he will have + surrendered his liberty, and will actually be silly enough to believe that + he cannot leave that party, for any cause whatever, without being a + shameful traitor, a deserter, a legitimately dishonored man. + </p> + <p> + There you have the just measure of that freedom of conscience, freedom of + opinion, freedom of speech and action which we hear so much inflated + foolishness about as being the precious possession of the republic. + Whereas, in truth, the surest way for a man to make of himself a target + for almost universal scorn, obloquy, slander, and insult is to stop + twaddling about these priceless independencies and attempt to exercise one + of them. If he is a preacher half his congregation will clamor for his + expulsion—and will expel him, except they find it will injure real + estate in the neighborhood; if he is a doctor his own dead will turn + against him. + </p> + <p> + I repeat that the new party-member who supposed himself independent will + presently find that the party have somehow got a mortgage on his soul, and + that within a year he will recognize the mortgage, deliver up his liberty, + and actually believe he cannot retire from that party from any motive + howsoever high and right in his own eyes without shame and dishonor. + </p> + <p> + Is it possible for human wickedness to invent a doctrine more infernal and + poisonous than this? Is there imaginable a baser servitude than it + imposes? What slave is so degraded as the slave that is proud that he is a + slave? What is the essential difference between a lifelong democrat and + any other kind of lifelong slave? Is it less humiliating to dance to the + lash of one master than another? + </p> + <p> + This infamous doctrine of allegiance to party plays directly into the + hands of politicians of the baser sort—and doubtless for that it was + borrowed—or stolen—from the monarchial system. It enables them + to foist upon the country officials whom no self-respecting man would vote + for if he could but come to understand that loyalty to himself is his + first and highest duty, not loyalty to any party name. + </p> + <p> + Shall you say the best good of the country demands allegiance to party? + Shall you also say that it demands that a man kick his truth and his + conscience into the gutter and become a mouthing lunatic besides? Oh no, + you say; it does not demand that. But what if it produce that in spite of + you? There is no obligation upon a man to do things which he ought not to + do when drunk, but most men will do them just the same; and so we hear no + arguments about obligations in the matter—we only hear men warned to + avoid the habit of drinking; get rid of the thing that can betray men into + such things. + </p> + <p> + This is a funny business all around. The same men who enthusiastically + preach loyal consistency to church and party are always ready and willing + and anxious to persuade a Chinaman or an Indian or a Kanaka to desert his + church or a fellow-American to desert his party. The man who deserts to + them is all that is high and pure and beautiful—apparently; the man + who deserts from them is all that is foul and despicable. This is + Consistency—with a capital C. + </p> + <p> + With the daintiest and self-complacentest sarcasm the lifelong loyalist + scoffs at the Independent—or as he calls him, with cutting irony, + the Mugwump; makes himself too killingly funny for anything in this world + about him. But—the Mugwump can stand it, for there is a great + history at his back; stretching down the centuries, and he comes of a + mighty ancestry. He knows that in the whole history of the race of men no + single great and high and beneficent thing was ever done for the souls and + bodies, the hearts and the brains of the children of this world, but a + Mugwump started it and Mugwumps carried it to victory: And their names are + the stateliest in history: Washington, Garrison, Galileo, Luther, Christ. + Loyalty to petrified opinions never yet broke a chain or freed a human + soul in this world-end never will. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_APPEs" id="link2H_APPEs"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APPENDIX S + </h2> + <h3> + ORIGINAL PREFACE FOR “A CONNECTICUT YANKEE IN KING ARTHUR'S COURT” + </h3> + <p> + (See Chapter clxxii) + </p> + <p> + My object has been to group together some of the most odious laws which + have had vogue in the Christian countries within the past eight or ten + centuries, and illustrate them by the incidents of a story. + </p> + <p> + There was never a time when America applied the death-penalty to more than + fourteen crimes. But England, within the memory of men still living, had + in her list of crimes 223 which were punishable by death! And yet from the + beginning of our existence down to a time within the memory of babes + England has distressed herself piteously over the ungentleness of our + Connecticut Blue Laws. Those Blue Laws should have been spared English + criticism for two reasons: + </p> + <p> + 1. They were so insipidly mild, by contrast with the bloody and atrocious + laws of England of the same period, as to seem characterless and colorless + when one brings them into that awful presence. + </p> + <p> + 2. The Blue Laws never had any existence. They were the fancy-work of an + English clergyman; they were never a part of any statute-book. And yet + they could have been made to serve a useful and merciful purpose; if they + had been injected into the English law the dilution would have given to + the whole a less lurid aspect; or, to figure the effect in another way, + they would have been coca mixed into vitriol. + </p> + <p> + I have drawn no laws and no illustrations from the twin civilizations of + hell and Russia. To have entered into that atmosphere would have defeated + my purpose, which was to show a great and genuine progress in Christendom + in these few later generations toward mercifulness—a wide and + general relaxing of the grip of the law. Russia had to be left out because + exile to Siberia remains, and in that single punishment is gathered + together and concentrated all the bitter inventions of all the black ages + for the infliction of suffering upon human beings. Exile for life from + one's hearthstone and one's idols—this is rack, thumb-screw, the + water-drop, fagot and stake, tearing asunder by horses, flaying alive—all + these in one; and not compact into hours, but drawn out into years, each + year a century, and the whole a mortal immortality of torture and despair. + While exile to Siberia remains one will be obliged to admit that there is + one country in Christendom where the punishments of all the ages are still + preserved and still inflicted, that there is one country in Christendom + where no advance has been made toward modifying the medieval penalties for + offenses against society and the State. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_APPEt" id="link2H_APPEt"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APPENDIX T + </h2> + <h3> + A TRIBUTE TO HENRY H. ROGERS + </h3> + <p> + (See Chapter cc and earlier) + </p> + <p> + April 25, 1902. I owe more to Henry Rogers than to any other man whom I + have known. He was born in Fairhaven, Connecticut, in 1839, and is my + junior by four years. He was graduated from the high school there in 1853, + when he was fourteen years old, and from that time forward he earned his + own living, beginning at first as the bottom subordinate in the village + store with hard-work privileges and a low salary. When he was twenty-four + he went out to the newly discovered petroleum fields in Pennsylvania and + got work; then returned home, with enough money to pay passage, married a + schoolmate, and took her to the oil regions. He prospered, and by and by + established the Standard Oil Trust with Mr. Rockefeller and others, and is + still one of its managers and directors. + </p> + <p> + In 1893 we fell together by accident one evening in the Murray Hill Hotel, + and our friendship began on the spot and at once. Ever since then he has + added my business affairs to his own and carried them through, and I have + had no further trouble with them. Obstructions and perplexities which + would have driven me mad were simplicities to his master mind and + furnished him no difficulties. He released me from my entanglements with + Paige and stopped that expensive outgo; when Charles L. Webster & + Company failed he saved my copyrights for Mrs. Clemens when she would have + sacrificed them to the creditors although they were in no way entitled to + them; he offered to lend me money wherewith to save the life of that + worthless firm; when I started lecturing around the world to make the + money to pay off the Webster debts he spent more than a year trying to + reconcile the differences between Harper & Brothers and the American + Publishing Company and patch up a working-contract between them and + succeeded where any other man would have failed; as fast as I earned money + and sent it to him he banked it at interest and held onto it, refusing to + pay any creditor until he could pay all of the 96 alike; when I had earned + enough to pay dollar for dollar he swept off the indebtedness and sent me + the whole batch of complimentary letters which the creditors wrote in + return; when I had earned $28,500 more, $18,500 of which was in his hands, + I wrote him from Vienna to put the latter into Federal Steel and leave it + there; he obeyed to the extent of $17,500, but sold it in two months at + $25,000 profit, and said it would go ten points higher, but that it was + his custom to “give the other man a chance” (and that was a + true word—there was never a truer one spoken). That was at the end + of '99 and beginning of 1900; and from that day to this he has continued + to break up my bad schemes and put better ones in their place, to my great + advantage. I do things which ought to try man's patience, but they never + seem to try his; he always finds a colorable excuse for what I have done. + His soul was born superhumanly sweet, and I do not think anything can sour + it. I have not known his equal among men for lovable qualities. But for + his cool head and wise guidance I should never have come out of the + Webster difficulties on top; it was his good steering that enabled me to + work out my salvation and pay a hundred cents on the dollar—the most + valuable service any man ever did me. + </p> + <p> + His character is full of fine graces, but the finest is this: that he can + load you down with crushing obligations and then so conduct himself that + you never feel their weight. If he would only require something in return—but + that is not in his nature; it would not occur to him. With the Harpers and + the American Company at war those copyrights were worth but little; he + engineered a peace and made them valuable. He invests $100,000 for me + here, and in a few months returns a profit of $31,000. I invest (in London + and here) $66,000 and must wait considerably for results (in case there + shall be any). I tell him about it and he finds no fault, utters not a + sarcasm. He was born serene, patient, all-enduring, where a friend is + concerned, and nothing can extinguish that great quality in him. Such a + man is entitled to the high gift of humor: he has it at its very best. He + is not only the best friend I have ever had, but is the best man I have + known. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_APPEu" id="link2H_APPEu"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APPENDIX U + </h2> + <h3> + FROM MARK TWAIN'S LAST POEM + </h3> + <p> + BEGUN AT RIVERDALE, NEW YORK. FINISHED AT YORK HARBOR, MAINE, AUGUST 18, + 1902 + </p> + <p> + (See Chapter ccxxiii) + </p> + <p> + (A bereft and demented mother speaks) + </p> + <p> + ... O, I can see my darling yet: the little form In slip of flimsy stuff + all creamy white, Pink-belted waist with ample bows, Blue shoes scarce + bigger than the house-cat's ears—Capering in delight and choked with + glee. + </p> + <p> + It was a summer afternoon; the hill Rose green above me and about, and in + the vale below The distant village slept, and all the world Was steeped in + dreams. Upon me lay this peace, And I forgot my sorrow in its spell. And + now My little maid passed by, and she Was deep in thought upon a solemn + thing: A disobedience, and my reproof. Upon my face She must not look + until the day was done; For she was doing penance... She? O, it was I! + What mother knows not that? And so she passed, I worshiping and longing... + It was not wrong? You do not think me wrong? I did it for the best. Indeed + I meant it so. + </p> + <p> + She flits before me now: The peach-bloom of her gauzy crepe, The plaited + tails of hair, The ribbons floating from the summer hat, The grieving + face, dropp'd head absorbed with care. O, dainty little form! I see it + move, receding slow along the path, By hovering butterflies besieged; I + see it reach The breezy top clear-cut against the sky,... Then pass beyond + and sink from sight-forever! + </p> + <p> + Within, was light and cheer; without, A blustering winter's right. There + was a play; It was her own; for she had wrought it out Unhelped, from her + own head-and she But turned sixteen! A pretty play, All graced with + cunning fantasies, And happy songs, and peopled all with fays, And sylvan + gods and goddesses, And shepherds, too, that piped and danced, And wore + the guileless hours away In care-free romps and games. + </p> + <p> + Her girlhood mates played in the piece, And she as well: a goddess, she,—And + looked it, as it seemed to me. + </p> + <p> + 'Twas fairyland restored-so beautiful it was And innocent. It made us cry, + we elder ones, To live our lost youth o'er again With these its happy + heirs. + </p> + <p> + Slowly, at last, the curtain fell. Before us, there, she stood, all + wreathed and draped In roses pearled with dew-so sweet, so glad, So + radiant!—and flung us kisses through the storm Of praise that + crowned her triumph.... O, Across the mists of time I see her yet, My + Goddess of the Flowers! + </p> + <p> + ... The curtain hid her.... Do you comprehend? Till time shall end! Out of + my life she vanished while I looked! + </p> + <p> + ... Ten years are flown. O, I have watched so long, So long. But she will + come no more. No, she will come no more. + </p> + <p> + It seems so strange... so strange... Struck down unwarned! In the unbought + grace, of youth laid low—In the glory of her fresh young bloom laid + low—In the morning of her life cut down! And I not by! Not by When + the shadows fell, the night of death closed down The sun that lit my life + went out. Not by to answer When the latest whisper passed the lips That + were so dear to me—my name! Far from my post! the world's whole + breadth away. O, sinking in the waves of death she cried to me For + mother-help, and got for answer Silence! + </p> + <p> + We that are old—we comprehend; even we That are not mad: whose + grown-up scions still abide; Their tale complete: Their earlier selves we + glimpse at intervals Far in the dimming past; We see the little forms as + once they were, And whilst we ache to take them to our hearts, The vision + fades. We know them lost to us—Forever lost; we cannot have them + back; We miss them as we miss the dead, We mourn them as we mourn the + dead. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_APPEv" id="link2H_APPEv"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APPENDIX V. SELECTIONS FROM AN UNFINISHED BOOK, “3,000 YEARS AMONG + THE + </h2> + <p> + MICROBES” + </p> + <p> + THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A MICROBE, WHO, IN A FORMER EXISTENCE, HAD BEEN A MAN—HIS + PRESENT HABITAT BEING THE ORGANISM OF A TRAMP, BLITZOWSKI. (WRITTEN AT + DUBLIN, NEW HAMPSHIRE, 1905) + </p> + <p> + (See Chapter ccxxxv) + </p> + <p> + Our world (the tramp) is as large and grand and awe-compelling to us + microscopic creatures as is man's world to man. Our tramp is mountainous, + there are vast oceans in him, and lakes that are sea-like for size, there + are many rivers (veins and arteries) which are fifteen miles across, and + of a length so stupendous as to make the Mississippi and the Amazon + trifling little Rhode Island brooks by comparison. As for our minor + rivers, they are multitudinous, and the dutiable commerce of disease which + they carry is rich beyond the dreams of the American custom-house. + </p> + <p> + Take a man like Sir Oliver Lodge, and what secret of Nature can be hidden + from him? He says: “A billion, that is a million millions,[?? + Trillion D.W.] of atoms is truly an immense number, but the resulting + aggregate is still excessively minute. A portion of substance consisting, + of a billion atoms is only barely visible with the highest power of a + microscope; and a speck or granule, in order to be visible to the naked + eye, like a grain of lycopodium-dust, must be a million times bigger + still.” + </p> + <p> + The human eye could see it then—that dainty little speck. But with + my microbe-eye I could see every individual of the whirling billions of + atoms that compose the speck. Nothing is ever at rest—wood, iron, + water, everything is alive, everything is raging, whirling, whizzing, day + and night and night and day, nothing is dead, there is no such thing as + death, everything is full of bristling life, tremendous life, even the + bones of the crusader that perished before Jerusalem eight centuries ago. + There are no vegetables, all things are animal; each electron is an + animal, each molecule is a collection of animals, and each has an + appointed duty to perform and a soul to be saved. Heaven was not made for + man alone, and oblivion and neglect reserved for the rest of His + creatures. He gave them life, He gave them humble services to perform, + they have performed them, and they will not be forgotten, they will have + their reward. Man-always vain, windy, conceited-thinks he will be in the + majority there. He will be disappointed. Let him humble himself. But for + the despised microbe and the persecuted bacillus, who needed a home and + nourishment, he would not have been created. He has a mission, therefore a + reason for existing: let him do the service he was made for, and keep + quiet. + </p> + <p> + Three weeks ago I was a man myself, and thought and felt as men think and + feel; I have lived 3,000 years since then [microbic time], and I see the + foolishness of it now. We live to learn, and fortunate are we when we are + wise enough to profit by it. + </p> + <p> + In matters pertaining to microscopy we necessarily have an advantage here + over the scientist of the earth, because, as I have just been indicating, + we see with our naked eyes minutenesses which no man-made microscope can + detect, and are therefore able to register as facts many things which + exist for him as theories only. Indeed, we know as facts several things + which he has not yet divined even by theory. For example, he does not + suspect that there is no life but animal life, and that all atoms are + individual animals endowed each with a certain degree of consciousness, + great or small, each with likes and dislikes, predilections and aversions—that, + in a word, each has a character, a character of its own. Yet such is the + case. Some of the molecules of a stone have an aversion for some of those + of a vegetable or any other creature and will not associate with them—and + would not be allowed to, if they tried. Nothing is more particular about + society than a molecule. And so there are no end of castes; in this matter + India is not a circumstance. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, Franklin [a microbe of great learning], is the ocean an + individual, an animal, a creature?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then water—any water-is an individual?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose you remove a drop of it? Is what is left an individual?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and so is the drop.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose you divide the drop?” + </p> + <p> + “Then you have two individuals.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose you separate the hydrogen and the oxygen?” + </p> + <p> + “Again you have two individuals. But you haven't water any more.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. Certainly. Well, suppose you combine them again, but in + a new way: make the proportions equal—one part oxygen to one of + hydrogen?” + </p> + <p> + “But you know you can't. They won't combine on equal terms.” + </p> + <p> + I was ashamed to have made that blunder. I was embarrassed; to cover it I + started to say we used to combine them like that where I came from, but + thought better of it, and stood pat. + </p> + <p> + “Now then,” I said, “it amounts to this: water is an + individual, an animal, and is alive; remove the hydrogen and it is an + animal and is alive; the remaining oxygen is also an individual, an + animal, and is alive. Recapitulation: the two individuals combined + constitute a third individual—and yet each continues to be an + individual.” + </p> + <p> + I glanced at Franklin, but... upon reflection, held my peace. I could have + pointed out to him that here was mute Nature explaining the sublime + mystery of the Trinity so luminously—that even the commonest + understanding could comprehend it, whereas many a trained master of words + had labored to do it with speech and failed. But he would not have known + what I was talking about. After a moment I resumed: + </p> + <p> + “Listen—and see if I have understood you rightly, to wit: All + the atoms that constitute each oxygen molecule are separate individuals, + and each is a living animal; all the atoms that constitute each hydrogen + molecule are separate individuals, and each one is a living animal; each + drop of water consists of millions of living animals, the drop itself is + an individual, a living animal, and the wide ocean is another. Is that it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that is correct.” + </p> + <p> + “By George, it beats the band!” + </p> + <p> + He liked the expression, and set it down in his tablets. + </p> + <p> + “Franklin, we've got it down fine. And to think—there are + other animals that are still smaller than a hydrogen atom, and yet it is + so small that it takes five thousand of them to make a molecule—a + molecule so minute that it could get into a microbe's eye and he wouldn't + know it was there!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the wee creatures that inhabit the bodies of us germs and feed + upon us, and rot us with disease: Ah, what could they have been created + for? They give us pain, they make our lives miserable, they murder us—and + where is the use of it all, where the wisdom? Ah, friend Bkshp [microbic + orthography], we live in a strange and unaccountable world; our birth is a + mystery, our little life is a mystery, a trouble, we pass and are seen no + more; all is mystery, mystery, mystery; we know not whence we came, nor + why; we know not whither we go, nor why we go. We only know we were not + made in vain, we only know we were made for a wise purpose, and that all + is well! We shall not be cast aside in contumely and unblest after all we + have suffered. Let us be patient, let us not repine, let us trust. The + humblest of us is cared for—oh, believe it!—and this fleeting + stay is not the end!” + </p> + <p> + You notice that? He did not suspect that he, also, was engaged in gnawing, + torturing, defiling, rotting, and murdering a fellow-creature—he and + all the swarming billions of his race. None of them suspects it. That is + significant. It is suggestive—irresistibly suggestive—insistently + suggestive. It hints at the possibility that the procession of known and + listed devourers and persecutors is not complete. It suggests the + possibility, and substantially the certainty, that man is himself a + microbe, and his globe a blood-corpuscle drifting with its shining + brethren of the Milky Way down a vein of the Master and Maker of all + things, whose body, mayhap—glimpsed part-wise from the earth by + night, and receding and lost to view in the measureless remotenesses of + space—is what men name the Universe. + </p> + <p> + Yes, that was all old to me, but to find that our little old familiar + microbes were themselves loaded up with microbes that fed them, enriched + them, and persistently and faithfully preserved them and their poor old + tramp-planet from destruction—oh, that was new, and too delicious! + </p> + <p> + I wanted to see them! I was in a fever to see them! I had lenses to + two-million power, but of course the field was no bigger than a person's + finger-nail, and so it wasn't possible to compass a considerable spectacle + or a landscape with them; whereas what I had been craving was a + thirty-foot field, which would represent a spread of several miles of + country and show up things in a way to make them worth looking at. The + boys and I had often tried to contrive this improvement, but had failed. + </p> + <p> + I mentioned the matter to the Duke and it made him smile. He said it was a + quite simple thing-he had it at home. I was eager to bargain for the + secret, but he said it was a trifle and not worth bargaining for. He said: + </p> + <p> + “Hasn't it occurred to you that all you have to do is to bend an + X-ray to an angle-value of 8.4 and refract it with a parabolism, and there + you are?” + </p> + <p> + Upon my word, I had never thought of that simple thing! You could have + knocked me down with a feather. + </p> + <p> + We rigged a microscope for an exhibition at once and put a drop of my + blood under it, which got mashed flat when the lens got shut down upon it. + The result was beyond my dreams. The field stretched miles away, green and + undulating, threaded with streams and roads, and bordered all down the + mellowing distances with picturesque hills. And there was a great white + city of tents; and everywhere were parks of artillery and divisions of + cavalry and infantry waiting. We had hit a lucky moment, evidently there + was going to be a march-past or some thing like that. At the front where + the chief banner flew there was a large and showy tent, with showy guards + on duty, and about it were some other tents of a swell kind. + </p> + <p> + The warriors—particularly the officers—were lovely to look at, + they were so trim-built and so graceful and so handsomely uniformed. They + were quite distinct, vividly distinct, for it was a fine day, and they + were so immensely magnified that they looked to be fully a finger-nail + high.—[My own expression, and a quite happy one. I said to the Duke: + “Your Grace, they're just about finger-milers!” “How do + you mean, m'lord?” “This. You notice the stately General + standing there with his hand resting upon the muzzle of a cannon? Well, if + you could stick your little finger down against the ground alongside of + him his plumes would just reach up to where your nail joins the flesh.” + The Duke said “finger-milers was good”—good and exact; + and he afterward used it several times himself.]—Everywhere you + could see officers moving smartly about, and they looked gay, but the + common soldiers looked sad. Many wife-swinks [“Swinks,” an + atomic race] and daughter-swinks and sweetheart-swinks were about—crying, + mainly. It seemed to indicate that this was a case of war, not a + summer-camp for exercise, and that the poor labor-swinks were being torn + from their planet-saving industries to go and distribute civilization and + other forms of suffering among the feeble benighted somewhere; else why + should the swinkesses cry? + </p> + <p> + The cavalry was very fine—shiny black horses, shapely and spirited; + and presently when a flash of light struck a lifted bugle (delivering a + command which we couldn't hear) and a division came tearing down on a + gallop it was a stirring and gallant sight, until the dust rose an inch—the + Duke thought more—and swallowed it up in a rolling and tumbling long + gray cloud, with bright weapons glinting and sparkling in it. + </p> + <p> + Before long the real business of the occasion began. A battalion of + priests arrived carrying sacred pictures. That settled it: this was war; + these far-stretching masses of troops were bound for the front. Their + little monarch came out now, the sweetest little thing that ever + travestied the human shape I think, and he lifted up his hands and blessed + the passing armies, and they looked as grateful as they could, and made + signs of humble and real reverence as they drifted by the holy pictures. + </p> + <p> + It was beautiful—the whole thing; and wonderful, too, when those + serried masses swung into line and went marching down the valley under the + long array of fluttering flags. + </p> + <p> + Evidently they were going somewhere to fight for their king, which was the + little manny that blessed them; and to preserve him and his brethren that + occupied the other swell tents; to civilize and grasp a valuable little + unwatched country for them somewhere. But the little fellow and his + brethren didn't fall in—that was a noticeable particular. They + didn't fight; they stayed at home, where it was safe, and waited for the + swag. + </p> + <p> + Very well, then-what ought we to do? Had we no moral duty to perform? + Ought we to allow this war to begin? Was it not our duty to stop it, in + the name of right and righteousness? Was it not our duty to administer a + rebuke to this selfish and heartless Family? + </p> + <p> + The Duke was struck by that, and greatly moved. He felt as I did about it, + and was ready to do whatever was right, and thought we ought to pour + boiling water on the Family and extinguish it, which we did. + </p> + <p> + It extinguished the armies, too, which was not intended. We both regretted + this, but the Duke said that these people were nothing to us, and deserved + extinction anyway for being so poor-spirited as to serve such a Family. He + was loyally doing the like himself, and so was I, but I don't think we + thought of that. And it wasn't just the same, anyway, because we were + sooflaskies, and they were only swinks. + </p> + <p> + Franklin realizes that no atom is destructible; that it has always existed + and will exist forever; but he thinks all atoms will go out of this world + some day and continue their life in a happier one. Old Tolliver thinks no + atom's life will ever end, but he also thinks Blitzowski is the only world + it will ever see, and that at no time in its eternity will it be either + worse off or better off than it is now and always has been. Of course he + thinks the planet Blitzowski is itself eternal and indestructible—at + any rate he says he thinks that. It could make me sad, only I know better. + D. T. will fetch Blitzy yet one of these days. + </p> + <p> + But these are alien thoughts, human thoughts, and they falsely indicate + that I do not want this tramp to go on living. What would become of me if + he should disintegrate? My molecules would scatter all around and take up + new quarters in hundreds of plants and animals; each would carry its + special feelings along with it, each would be content in its new estate, + but where should I be? I should not have a rag of a feeling left, after my + disintegration—with his—was complete. Nothing to think with, + nothing to grieve or rejoice with, nothing to hope or despair with. There + would be no more me. I should be musing and thinking and dreaming + somewhere else—in some distant animal maybe—perhaps a cat—by + proxy of my oxygen I should be raging and fuming in some other creatures—a + rat, perhaps; I should be smiling and hoping in still another child of + Nature—heir to my hydrogen—a weed, or a cabbage, or something; + my carbonic acid (ambition) would be dreaming dreams in some lowly + wood-violet that was longing for a showy career; thus my details would be + doing as much feeling as ever, but I should not be aware of it, it would + all be going on for the benefit of those others, and I not in it at all. I + should be gradually wasting away, atom by atom, molecule by molecule, as + the years went on, and at last I should be all distributed, and nothing + left of what had once been Me. It is curious, and not without + impressiveness: I should still be alive, intensely alive, but so scattered + that I would not know it. I should not be dead—no, one cannot call + it that—but I should be the next thing to it. And to think what + centuries and ages and aeons would drift over me before the disintegration + was finished, the last bone turned to gas and blown away! I wish I knew + what it is going to feel like, to lie helpless such a weary, weary time, + and see my faculties decay and depart, one by one, like lights which burn + low, and flicker and perish, until the ever-deepening gloom and darkness + which—oh, away, away with these horrors, and let me think of + something wholesome! + </p> + <p> + My tramp is only 85; there is good hope that he will live ten years longer—500,000 + of my microbe years. So may it be. + </p> + <p> + Oh, dear, we are all so wise! Each of us knows it all, and knows he knows + it all—the rest, to a man, are fools and deluded. One man knows + there is a hell, the next one knows there isn't; one man knows high tariff + is right, the next man knows it isn't; one man knows monarchy is best, the + next one knows it isn't; one age knows there are witches, the next one + knows there aren't; one sect knows its religion is the only true one, + there are sixty-four thousand five hundred million sects that know it + isn't so. There is not a mind present among this multitude of + verdict-deliverers that is the superior of the minds that persuade and + represent the rest of the divisions of the multitude. Yet this sarcastic + fact does not humble the arrogance nor diminish the know-it-all bulk of a + single verdict-maker of the lot by so much as a shade. Mind is plainly an + ass, but it will be many ages before it finds it out, no doubt. Why do we + respect the opinions of any man or any microbe that ever lived? I swear I + don't know. Why do I respect my own? Well—that is different. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_APPEw" id="link2H_APPEw"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APPENDIX W + </h2> + <h3> + LITTLE BESSIE WOULD ASSIST PROVIDENCE + </h3> + <p> + (See Chapter cclxxxii) + </p> + <p> + [It is dull, and I need wholesome excitements and distractions; so I will + go lightly excursioning along the primrose path of theology.] + </p> + <p> + Little Bessie was nearly three years old. She was a good child, and not + shallow, not frivolous, but meditative and thoughtful, and much given to + thinking out the reasons of things and trying to make them harmonize with + results. One day she said: + </p> + <p> + “Mama, why is there so much pain and sorrow and suffering? What is + it all for?” + </p> + <p> + It was an easy question, and mama had no difficulty in answering it: + </p> + <p> + “It is for our good, my child. In His wisdom and mercy the Lord + sends us these afflictions to discipline us and make us better.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it He that sends them?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Does He send all of them, mama?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear, all of them. None of them comes by accident; He alone + sends them, and always out of love for us, and to make us better.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn't it strange?” + </p> + <p> + “Strange? Why, no, I have never thought of it in that way. I have + not heard any one call it strange before. It has always seemed natural and + right to me, and wise and most kindly and merciful.” + </p> + <p> + “Who first thought of it like that, mama? Was it you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, child, I was taught it.” + </p> + <p> + “Who taught you so, mama?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, really, I don't know—I can't remember. My mother, I + suppose; or the preacher. But it's a thing that everybody knows.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, anyway, it does seem strange. Did He give Billy Norris the + typhus?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, to discipline him and make him good.” + </p> + <p> + “But he died, mama, and so it couldn't make him good.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I suppose it was for some other reason. We know it was + a good reason, whatever it was.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you think it was, mama?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you ask so many questions! I think it was to discipline his + parents.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, it wasn't fair, mama. Why should his life be taken away + for their sake, when he wasn't doing anything?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know! I only know it was for a good and wise and + merciful reason.” + </p> + <p> + “What reason, mama?” + </p> + <p> + “I think—I think-well, it was a judgment; it was to punish + them for some sin they had committed.” + </p> + <p> + “But he was the one that was punished, mama. Was that right?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, certainly. He does nothing that isn't right and wise and + merciful. You can't understand these things now, dear, but when you are + grown up you will understand them, and then you will see that they are + just and wise.” + </p> + <p> + After a pause: + </p> + <p> + “Did He make the roof fall in on the stranger that was trying to + save the crippled old woman from the fire, mama?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my child. Wait! Don't ask me why, because I don't know. I only + know it was to discipline some one, or be a judgment upon somebody, or to + show His power.” + </p> + <p> + “That drunken man that stuck a pitchfork into Mrs. Welch's baby when—” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind about it, you needn't go into particulars; it was to + discipline the child—that much is certain, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “Mama, Mr. Burgess said in his sermon that billions of little + creatures are sent into us to give us cholera, and typhoid, and lockjaw, + and more than a thousand other sicknesses and—mama, does He send + them?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, certainly, child, certainly. Of course.” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, to discipline us! Haven't I told you so, over and over again?” + </p> + <p> + “It's awful cruel, mama! And silly! and if I——” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, oh, hush! Do you want to bring the lightning?” + </p> + <p> + “You know the lightning did come last week, mama, and struck the new + church, and burnt it down. Was it to discipline the church?” + </p> + <p> + (Wearily.) “Oh, I suppose so.” + </p> + <p> + “But it killed a hog that wasn't doing anything. Was it to + discipline the hog, mama?” + </p> + <p> + “Dear child, don't you want to run out and play a while? If you + would like to——” + </p> + <p> + “Mama, only think! Mr. Hollister says there isn't a bird, or fish, + or reptile, or any other animal that hasn't got an enemy that Providence + has sent to bite it and chase it and pester it and kill it and suck its + blood and discipline it and make it good and religious. Is that true, + mother—because if it is true why did Mr. Hollister laugh at it?” + </p> + <p> + “That Hollister is a scandalous person, and I don't want you to + listen to anything he says.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, mama, he is very interesting, and I think he tries to be good. + He says the wasps catch spiders and cram them down into their nests in the + ground—alive, mama!—and there they live and suffer days and + days and days, and the hungry little wasps chewing their legs and gnawing + into their bellies all the time, to make them good and religious and + praise God for His infinite mercies. I think Mr. Hollister is just lovely, + and ever so kind; for when I asked him if he would treat a spider like + that he said he hoped to be damned if he would; and then he——Dear + mama, have you fainted! I will run and bring help! Now this comes of + staying in town this hot weather.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + APPENDIX X. + + A CHRONOLOGICAL LIST OF MARK TWAIN'S WORK + + PUBLISHED AND OTHERWISE—FROM 1851-1910 +</pre> + <p> + Note 1.—This is not a detailed bibliography, but merely a general + list of Mark Twain's literary undertakings, in the order of performance, + showing when, and usually where, the work was done, when and where first + published, etc. An excellent Mark Twain bibliography has been compiled by + Mr. Merle Johnson, to whom acknowledgments are due for important items. + </p> + <p> + Note 2.—Only a few of the more important speeches are noted. Volumes + that are merely collections of tales or articles are not noted. + </p> + <p> + Note 3.—Titles are shortened to those most commonly in use, as + “Huck Finn” or “Huck” for “The Adventures of + Huckleberry Finn.” + </p> + <p> + Names of periodicals are abbreviated. + </p> + <p> + The initials U. E. stand for the “Uniform Edition” of Mark + Twain's works. + </p> + <p> + The chapter number or numbers in the line with the date refers to the + place in this work where the items are mentioned. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1851. + (See Chapter xviii of this work.) +</pre> + <p> + Edited the Hannibal Journal during the absence of the owner and editor, + Orion Clemens. Wrote local items for the Hannibal Journal. Burlesque of a + rival editor in the Hannibal Journal. Wrote two sketches for The Sat. Eve. + Post (Philadelphia). To MARY IN H-l. Hannibal Journal. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1852-53. + (See Chapter xviii.) +</pre> + <p> + JIM WOLFE AND THE FIRE—Hannibal Journal. Burlesque of a rival editor + in the Hannibal Journal. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1853. + (See Chapter xix.) +</pre> + <p> + Wrote obituary poems—not published. Wrote first letters home. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1855-56. + (See Chapters xx and xxi.) +</pre> + <p> + First after-dinner speech; delivered at a printers' banquet in Keokuk, + Iowa. Letters from Cincinnati, November 16, 1856, signed “Snodgrass”—Saturday + Post (Keokuk). + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1857. + (See Chapter xxi.) +</pre> + <p> + Letters from Cincinnati, March 16, 1857, signed “Snodgrass”—Saturday + Post (Keokuk). + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1858. +</pre> + <p> + Anonymous contributions to the New Orleans Crescent and probably to St. + Louis papers. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1859. + (See Chapter xxvii; also Appendix B.) +</pre> + <p> + Burlesque of Capt. Isaiah Sellers—True Delta (New Orleans), May 8 or + 9. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1861. + (See Chapters xxxiii to xxxv.) +</pre> + <p> + Letters home, published in The Gate City (Keokuk). + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1862. + (See Chapters xxxv to xxxviii.) +</pre> + <p> + Letters and sketches, signed “Josh,” for the Territorial + Enterprise (Virginia City, Nevada). REPORT OF THE LECTURE OF PROF. + PERSONAL PRONOUN—Enterprise. REPORT OF A FOURTH OF JULY ORATION—Enterprise. + THE PETRIFIED MAN—Enterprise. Local news reporter for the Enterprise + from August. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1863. + (See Chapters xli to xliii; also Appendix C.) +</pre> + <p> + Reported the Nevada Legislature for the Enterprise. First used the name + “Mark Twain,” February 2. ADVICE TO THE UNRELIABLE—Enterprise. + CURING A COLD—Enterprise. U. E. INFORMATION FOR THE MILLION—Enterprise. + ADVICE TO GOOD LITTLE GIRLS—Enterprise. THE DUTCH NICK MASSACRE—Enterprise. + Many other Enterprise sketches. THE AGED PILOT MAN (poem)—“ROUGHING + IT.” U. E. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1864. + (See. Chapters xliv to xlvii.) +</pre> + <p> + Reported the Nevada Legislature for the Enterprise. Speech as “Governor + of the Third House.” Letters to New York Sunday Mercury. Local + reporter on the San Francisco Call. Articles and sketches for the Golden + Era. Articles and sketches for the Californian. Daily letters from San + Francisco to the Enterprise. (Several of the Era and Californian sketches + appear in SKETCHES NEW AND OLD. U. E.) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1865. + (See Chapters xlix to li; also Appendix E.) +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_NOTE" id="link2H_NOTE"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Notes for the Jumping Frog story; Angel's Camp, February. Sketches etc., + </h2> + <p> + for the Golden Era and Californian. Daily letter to the Enterprise. THE + JUMPING FROG (San Francisco) Saturday Press. New York, November 18. U. E. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1866. + (See Chapters lii to lv; also Appendix D.) +</pre> + <p> + Daily letter to the Enterprise. Sandwich Island letters to the Sacramento + Union. Lecture on the Sandwich Islands, San Francisco, October 2. + FORTY-THREE DAYS IN AN OPEN BOAT—Harper's Magazine, December (error + in signature made it Mark Swain). + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1867. + (See Chapters lvii to lxv; also Appendices E, F, and G.) +</pre> + <p> + Letters to Alta California from New York. JIM WOLFE AND THE CATS—N. + Y. Sunday Mercury. THE JUMPING FROG—book, published by Charles Henry + Webb, May 1. U. E. Lectured at Cooper Union, May, '66. Letters to Alta + California and New York Tribune from the Quaker City—Holy Land + excursion. Letter to New York Herald on the return from the Holy Land. + After-dinner speech on “Women” (Washington). Began arrangement + for the publication of THE INNOCENTS ABROAD. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1868. + (See Chapters lxvi to lxix; also Appendices H and I.) +</pre> + <p> + Newspaper letters, etc., from Washington, for New York Citizen, Tribune, + Herald, and other papers and periodicals. Preparing Quaker City letters + (in Washington and San Francisco) for book publication. CAPTAIN WAKEMAN'S + (STORMFIELD'S) VISIT TO HEAVEN (San Francisco), published Harper's + Magazine, December, 1907-January, 1908 (also book, Harpers). Lectured in + California and Nevada on the “Holy Land,” July 2. S'CAT! + Anonymous article on T. K. Beecher (Elmira), published in local paper. + Lecture-tour, season 1868-69. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1869. + (See Chapters lxx to lxxni.) +</pre> + <p> + THE INNOCENTS ABROAD—book (Am. Pub. Co.), July 20. U. E. Bought + one-third ownership in the Buffalo Express. Contributed editorials, + sketches, etc., to the Express. Contributed sketches to Packard's Monthly, + Wood's Magazine, etc. Lecture-tour, season 1869-70. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1870. + (See Chapters lxxiv to lxxx; also Appendix J.) +</pre> + <p> + Contributed various matter to Buffalo Express. Contributed various matter + under general head of “MEMORANDA” to Galaxy Magazine, May to + April, '71. ROUGHING IT begun in September (Buffalo). SHEM'S DIARY + (Buffalo) (unfinished). GOD, ANCIENT AND MODERN (unpublished). + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1871. + (See Chapters lxxxi and lxxxii; also Appendix K.) +</pre> + <p> + MEMORANDA continued in Galaxy to April. AUTOBIOGRAPHY AND FIRST ROMANCE—[THE + FIRST ROMANCE had appeared in the Express in 1870. Later included in + SKETCHES.]—booklet (Sheldon & Co.). U. E. ROUGHING IT finished + (Quarry Farm). Ruloff letter—Tribune. Wrote several sketches and + lectures (Quarry Farm). Western play (unfinished). Lecture-tour, season + 1871-72. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1872. + (See Chapters lxxxiii to lxxxvii; also Appendix L.) +</pre> + <p> + ROUGHING IT—book (Am. Pub. Co.), February. U. E. THE MARK TWAIN + SCRAP-BOOK invented (Saybrook, Connecticut). TOM SAWYER begun as a play + (Saybrook, Connecticut). A few unimportant sketches published in “Practical + jokes,” etc. Began a book on England (London). + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1873. + (See Chapters lxxxviii to xcii.) +</pre> + <p> + Letters on the Sandwich Islands-Tribune, January 3 and 6. THE GILDED AGE + (with C. D. Warner)—book (Am. Pub. Co), December. U. E. THE LICENSE + OF THE PRESS—paper for The Monday Evening Club. Lectured in London, + October 18 and season 1873-74. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1874. + (See Chapters xciii to xcviii; also Appendix M.) +</pre> + <p> + TOM SAWYER continued (in the new study at Quarry Farm). A TRUE STORY + (Quarry Farm)-Atlantic, November. U. E. FABLES (Quarry Farm). U. E. + COLONEL SELLERS—play (Quarry Farm) performed by John T. Raymond. + UNDERTAKER'S LOVE-STORY (Quarry Farm) (unpublished). OLD TIMES ON THE + MISSISSIPPI (Hartford) Atlantic, January to July, 1875. Monarchy letter to + Mrs. Clemens, dated 1935 (Boston). + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1875. + (See Chapters c to civ; also Appendix N.) +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +UNIVERSAL SUFFRAGE—paper for The Monday Evening Club. SKETCHES NEW AND +OLD—book (Am. Pub. Co.), July. U. E. TOM SAWYER concluded (Hartford). +THE CURIOUS REP. OF GONDOUR—Atlantic, October (unsigned). PUNCH, +CONDUCTOR, PUNCH—Atlantic, February, 1876. U. E. THE SECOND ADVENT +(unfinished). THE MYSTERIOUS CHAMBER (unfinished). AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A +DAMN FOOL (unfinished). Petition for International Copyright. 1876. + (See Chapters cvi to cx.) +</pre> + <p> + Performed in THE LOAN OF THE LOVER as Peter Spuyk (Hartford). CARNIVAL OF + CRIME—paper for The Monday Evening Club—Atlantic, June. U. E. + HUCK FINN begun (Quarry Farm). CANVASSER'S STORY (Quarry Farm)—Atlantic, + December. U. E. “1601” (Quarry Farm), privately printed. [And + not edited by Livy. D.W.] AH SIN (with Bret Harte)—play, (Hartford). + TOM SAWYER—book (Am. Pub. Co.), December. U. E. Speech on “The + Weather,” New England Society, December 22. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1877. + (See Chapters cxii to cxv; also Appendix O.) +</pre> + <p> + LOVES OF ALONZO FITZ-CLARENCE, ETC. (Quarry Farm)—Atlantic. IDLE + EXCURSION (Quarry Farm)—Atlantic, October, November, December. U. E. + SIMON WHEELER, DETECTIVE—play (Quarry Farm) (not produced). PRINCE + AND PAUPER begun (Quarry Farm). Whittier birthday speech (Boston), + December. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1878. + (See Chapters cxvii to cxx.) +</pre> + <p> + MAGNANIMOUS INCIDENT (Hartford)—Atlantic, May. U. E. A TRAMP ABROAD + (Heidelberg and Munich). MENTAL TELEGRAPHY—Harper's Magazine, + December, 1891. U. E. GAMBETTA DUEL—Atlantic, February, 1879 + (included in TRAMP). U. E. REV. IN PITCAIRN—Atlantic, March, 1879. + U. E. STOLEN WHITE ELEPHANT—book (Osgood & Co.), 1882. U. E. + (The three items last named were all originally a part of the TRAMP + ABROAD.) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1879. +(See Chapters cxxi to cxxiv; also Chapter cxxxiv and Appendix P.) +</pre> + <p> + A TRAMP ABROAD continued (Paris, Elmira, and Hartford). Adam monument + scheme (Elmira). Speech on “The Babies” (Grant dinner, + Chicago), November. Speech on “Plagiarism” (Holmes breakfast, + Boston), December. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1880. + (See Chapters cxxv to cxxxii.) +</pre> + <p> + PRINCE AND PAUPER concluded (Hartford and Elmira). HUCK FINN continued + (Quarry Farm, Elmira). A CAT STORY (Quarry Farm) (unpublished). A TRAMP + ABROAD—book (Am. Pub. Co.), March 13. U. E. EDWARD MILLS AND GEO. + BENTON (Hartford)—Atlantic, August. U. E. MRS. McWILLIAMS AND THE + LIGHTNING (Hartford)—Atlantic, September. U. E. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1881. + (See Chapters cxxxiv to cxxxvii.) +</pre> + <p> + A CURIOUS EXPERIENCE—Century, November. U. E. A BIOGRAPHY OF ——- + (unfinished). PRINCE AND PAUPER—book (Osgood R; CO.), December. + BURLESQUE ETIQUETTE (unfinished). [Included in LETTERS FROM THE EARTH + D.W.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1882. + (See Chapters cxl and cxli.) +</pre> + <p> + LIFE ON THE MISSISSIPPI (Elmira and Hartford). + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1883. + (See Chapters cxlii to cxlviii.) +</pre> + <p> + LIFE ON THE Mississippi—book (Osgood R CO.), May. U. E. WHAT Is + HAPPINESS?—paper for The Monday Evening Club. Introduction to + Portuguese conversation book (Hartford). HUCK FINN concluded (Quarry + Farm). HISTORY GAME (Quarry Farm). AMERICAN CLAIMANT (with W. D. Howells)—play + (Hartford), produced by A. P. Burbank. Dramatized TOM SAWYER and PRINCE + AND PAUPER (not produced). + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1884. + (See Chapters cxlix to cliii.) +</pre> + <p> + Embarked in publishing with Charles L. Webster. THE CARSON FOOTPRINTS—the + San Franciscan. HUCK FINN—book (Charles L. Webster & Co.), + December. U. E. Platform-readings with George W. Cable, season '84-'85. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1885. + (See Chapters cliv to clvii.) +</pre> + <p> + Contracted for General Grant's Memoirs. A CAMPAIGN THAT FAILED—Century, + December. U. E. THE UNIVERSAL TINKER—Century, December (open letter + signed X. Y. Z. Letter on the government of children—Christian + Union.) KIDITCHIN (children's poem). + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1886. + (See Chapters clix to clxi; also Appendix Q.) +</pre> + <p> + Introduced Henry M. Stanley (Boston). CONNECTICUT YANKEE begun (Hartford). + ENGLISH AS SHE IS TAUGHT—Century, April, 1887. LUCK—Harper's, + August, 1891. GENERAL GRANT AND MATTHEW ARNOLD—Army and Navy dinner + speech. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1887. + (See Chapters clxii to clxiv; also Appendix R.) +</pre> + <p> + MEISTERSCHAFT—play (Hartford)-Century, January, 1888. U. E. KNIGHTS + OF LABOR—essay (not published). To THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND—Harper's + Magazine, December. U. E. CONSISTENCY—paper for The Monday Evening + Club. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1888. + (See Chapters clxv to clxviii.) +</pre> + <p> + Introductory for “Unsent Letters” (unpublished). Master of + Arts degree from Yale. Yale Alumni address (unpublished). Copyright + controversy with Brander Matthews—Princeton Review. Replies to + Matthew Arnold's American criticisms (unpublished). YANKEE continued + (Elmira and Hartford). Introduction of Nye and Riley (Boston). + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1889. + (See Chapters clxix to clxxiii; also Appendix S.) +</pre> + <p> + A MAJESTIC LITERARY FOSSIL Harper's Magazine, February, 1890. U. E. HUCK + AND TOM AMONG THE INDIANS (unfinished). Introduction to YANKEE (not used). + LETTER To ELSIE LESLIE—St Nicholas, February, 1890. CONNECTICUT + YANKEE—book (Webster & Co.), December. U. E. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1890. + (See Chapters clxxii to clxxiv.) +</pre> + <p> + Letter to Andrew Lang about English Criticism. (No important literary + matters this year. Mark Twain engaged promoting the Paige + typesetting-machine.) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1891. + (See Chapters clxxv to clxxvii.) +</pre> + <p> + AMERICAN CLAIMANT (Hartford) syndicated; also book (Webster & Co.), + May, 1892. U. E. European letters to New York Sun. DOWN THE RHONE + (unfinished). KORNERSTRASSE (unpublished). + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1892. + (See Chapters clxxx to clxxxii.) +</pre> + <p> + THE GERMAN CHICAGO (Berlin—Sun.) U. E. ALL KINDS OF SHIPS (at sea). + U. E. Tom SAWYER ABROAD (Nauheim)—St. Nicholas, November, '93, to + April, '94. U. E. THOSE EXTRAORDINARY TWINS (Nauheim). U. E. PUDD'NHEAD + WILSON (Nauheim and Florence)—Century, December, '93, to June, '94 + U. E. $100,000 BANK-NOTE (Florence)—Century, January, '93. U. E. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1893. + (See Chapters clxxxiii to clxxxvii.) +</pre> + <p> + JOAN OF ARC begun (at Villa Viviani, Florence) and completed up to the + raising of the Siege of Orleans. CALIFORNIAN'S TALE (Florence) Liber + Scriptorum, also Harper's. ADAM'S DIARY (Florence)—Niagara Book, + also Harper's. ESQUIMAU MAIDEN'S ROMANCE—Cosmopolitan, November. U. + E. IS HE LIVING OR IS HE DEAD?—Cosmopolitan, September. U. E. + TRAVELING WITH A REFORMER—Cosmopolitan, December. U. E. IN DEFENSE + OF HARRIET SHELLEY (Florence)—N. A.—Rev., July, '94. U. E. + FENIMORE COOPER'S LITERARY OFFENSES—[This may not have been written + until early in 1894.]—(Players, New York)—N. A. Rev., July, + '95 U. E. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1894. + (See Chapters clxxxviii to cxc.) +</pre> + <p> + JOAN OF ARC continued (Etretat and Paris). WHAT PAUL BOURGET THINKS OF US + (Etretat)—N. A. Rev., January, '95 U. E. TOM SAWYER ABROAD—book + (Webster & Co.), April. U. E. PUDD'NHEAD WILSON—book (Am. Pub. + Co.), November. U. E. The failure of Charles L. Webster & Co., April + 18. THE DERELICT—poem (Paris) (unpublished). + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1895. + (See Chapters clxxxix and cxcii.) +</pre> + <p> + JOAN OF ARC finished (Paris), January 28, Harper's Magazine, April to + December. MENTAL TELEGRAPHY AGAIN—Harper's, September. U. E. A + LITTLE NOTE TO PAUL BOURGET. U. E. Poem to Mrs. Beecher (Elmira) (not + published). U. E. Lecture-tour around the world, begun at Elmira, July 14, + ended July 31. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1896. + (See Chapters cxci to cxciv.) +</pre> + <p> + JOAN OF ARC—book (Harpers) May. U. E. TOM SAWYER, DETECTIVE, and + other stories-book (Harpers), November. FOLLOWING THE EQUATOR begun (23 + Tedworth Square, London). + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1897. + (See Chapters cxcvii to cxcix.) +</pre> + <p> + FOLLOWING THE EQUATOR—book (Am. Pub. Co.), November. QUEEN'S JUBILEE + (London), newspaper syndicate; book privately printed. JAMES HAMMOND + TRUMBULL—Century, November. WHICH WAS WHICH? (London and + Switzerland) (unfinished). TOM AND HUCK (Switzerland) (unfinished). + </p> + <p> + HELLFIRE HOTCHKISS (Switzerland) (unfinished). IN MEMORIAM—poem + (Switzerland)-Harper's Magazine. U. E. Concordia Club speech (Vienna). + STIRRING TIMES IN AUSTRIA (Vienna)—Harper's Magazine, March, 1898. + U. E. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1898. + (See Chapters cc to cciii; also Appendix T.) +</pre> + <p> + THE AUSTRIAN EDISON KEEPING SCHOOL AGAIN (Vienna) Century, August. U. E. + AT THE APPETITE CURE (Vienna)—Cosmopolitan, August. U. E. FROM THE + LONDON TIMES, 1904 (Vienna)—Century, November. U. E. ABOUT + PLAY-ACTING (Vienna)—Forum, October. U. E. CONCERNING THE JEWS + (Vienna)—Harper's Magazine, September, '99. U. E. CHRISTIAN SCIENCE + AND MRS. EDDY (Vienna)—Cosmopolitan, October. U. E. THE MAN THAT + CORRUPTED HADLEYBURG (Vienna)—Harper's Magazine, December, '99 U. E. + Autobiographical chapters (Vienna); some of them used in the N. A. Rev., + 1906-07. WHAT IS MAN? (Kaltenleutgeben)—book (privately printed), + August, 1906. ASSASSINATION OF AN EMPRESS (Kaltenleutgeben) (unpublished). + THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER (unfinished). Translations of German plays + (unproduced). + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1899. + (See Chapters cciv to ccviii.) +</pre> + <p> + DIPLOMATIC PAY AND CLOTHES (Vienna)—Forum, March. U. E. MY LITERARY + DEBUT (Vienna)—Century, December. U. E. CHRISTIAN SCIENCE (Vienna)—N. + A. Rev., December, 1902, January and February, 1903. Translated German + plays (Vienna) (unproduced). Collaborated with Siegmund Schlesinger on + plays (Vienna) (unfinished). Planned a postal-check scheme (Vienna). + Articles about the Kellgren treatment (Sanna, Sweden) (unpublished). ST. + JOAN OF ARC (London)—Harper's Magazine, December, 1904. U. E. MY + FIRST LIE, AND How I GOT OUT OF IT (London)—New York World. U. E. + </p> + <p> + Articles on South African War (London) (unpublished) Uniform Edition of + Mark Twain's works (Am. Pub. Co.). + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1900. + (See Chapters ccix to ccxii.) +</pre> + <p> + TWO LITTLE TALES (London)—Century, November, 1901. U. E. Spoke on + “Copyright” before the House of Lords. Delivered many speeches + in London and New York. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1901. + (See Chapters ccxiii to ccxviii.) +</pre> + <p> + TO THE PERSON SITTING IN DARKNESS (14 West Tenth Street, New York)—N. + A. Rev., February. TO MY MISSIONARY CRITICS (14 West Tenth Street, New + York)—N. A. Rev., April. DOUBLE-BARREL DETECTIVE STORY (Saranac + Lake, “The Lair”) Harper's Magazine, January and February, + 1902. Lincoln Birthday Speech, February 11. Many other speeches. PLAN FOR + CASTING VOTE PARTY (Riverdale) (unpublished). THE STUPENDOUS PROCESSION + (Riverdale) (unpublished). ANTE-MORTEM OBITUARIES—Harper's Weekly. + Received degree of Doctor of Letters from Yale. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1902. + (See Chapters ccxix to ccxxiv; also Appendix U.) +</pre> + <p> + DOES THE RACE OF MAN LOVE A LORD? (Riverdale)—N. A. Rev., April. U. + E. FIVE BOONS of LIFE (Riverdale)—Harper's Weekly, July 5. U. E. WHY + NOT ABOLISH IT? (Riverdale)—Harper's Weekly, July 5. DEFENSE OF + GENERAL FUNSTON (Riverdale)—N. A. Rev., May. IF I COULD BE THERE + (Riverdale unpublished). Wrote various articles, unfinished or + unpublished. Received degree of LL.D. from the University of Missouri, + June. + </p> + <p> + THE BELATED PASSPORT (York Harbor)—Harper's Weekly, December 6. U. + E. WAS IT HEAVEN? OR HELL? (York Harbor)—Harper's Magazine, + December. U. E. Poem (Riverdale and York Harbor) (unpublished) + Sixty-seventh Birthday speech (New York), November 27. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1903. + (See Chapters ccxxv to ccxxx.) +</pre> + <p> + MRS. EDDY IN ERROR (Riverdale)—N. A. Rev., April. INSTRUCTIONS IN + ART (Riverdale)-Metropolitan, April and May. EDDYPUS, and other C. S. + articles (unfinished). A DOG'S TALE (Elmira)—Harper's Magazine, + December. U. E. ITALIAN WITHOUT A MASTER (Florence)—Harper's Weekly, + January 21, 1904. U. E. ITALIAN WITH GRAMMAR (Florence)—Harper's + Magazine, August, U. E. THE $30,000 BEQUEST (Florence)—Harper's + Weekly, December 10, 1904. U. E. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1904. + (See Chapters ccxxx to ccxxxiv.) +</pre> + <p> + AUTOBIOGRAPHY (Florence)—portions published, N. A. Rev. and Harper's + Weekly. CONCERNING COPYRIGHT (Tyringham, Massachusetts)—N. A. Rev., + January, 1905. TSARS SOLILOQUY (21 Fifth Avenue, New York)—N. A. + Rev., March, 1905. ADAM'S DIARY—book (Harpers), April. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1905. + (See Chapters ccxxxiv to ccxxxvii; also Appendix V.) +</pre> + <p> + LEOPOLD'S SOLILOQUY (21 Fifth Avenue, New York)—pamphlet, P. R. + Warren Company. THE WAR PRAYER (21 Fifth Avenue, New York) (unpublished). + EVE'S DIARY (Dublin, New Hampshire)—Harper's Magazine, December. + 3,000 YEARS AMONG THE MICROBES (unfinished). INTERPRETING THE DEITY + (Dublin New Hampshire) (unpublished). A HORSE'S TALE (Dublin, New + Hampshire)-Harper's Magazine, August and September, 1906. Seventieth + Birthday speech. W. D. HOWELLS (21 Fifth Avenue, New York)-Harper's + Magazine, July, 1906. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1906. + (See Chapters ccxxxix to ccli.) +</pre> + <p> + Autobiography dictation (21 Fifth Avenue, New York; and Dublin, New + Hampshire)—selections published, N. A. Rev., 1906 and 1907. Many + speeches. Farewell lecture, Carnegie Hall, April 19. WHAT IS MAN?—book + (privately printed). Copyright speech (Washington), December. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1907. + (See Chapters cclvi to cclxiii.) +</pre> + <p> + Autobiography dictations (27 Fifth Avenue, New York; and Tuxedo). Degree + of Doctor of Literature conferred by Oxford, June 26. Made many London + speeches. Begum of Bengal speech (Liverpool). CHRISTIAN SCIENCE—book + (Harpers), February. U. E. CAPTAIN STORMFIELD'S VISIT To HEAVEN—book + (Harpers). + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1908. + (See Chapters cclxiv to cclxx.) +</pre> + <p> + Autobiography dictations (21 Fifth Avenue, New York; and Redding, + Connecticut). Lotos Club and other speeches. Aldrich memorial speech. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1909. + (See Chapters cclxxvi to cclxxxix; also Appendices N and W.) +</pre> + <p> + IS SHAKESPEARE DEAD?—book (Harpers), April. A FABLE—Harper's + Magazine December. Copyright documents (unpublished). Address to St. + Timothy School. MARJORIE FLEMING (Stormfield)—Harper's Bazar, + December. THE TURNING-POINT OF MY LIFE (Stormfield)—Harper's Bazar, + February, 1910 BESSIE DIALOGUE (unpublished). LETTERS FROM THE EARTH + (unfinished). THE DEATH OF JEAN—Harper's, December, 1910. THE + INTERNATIONAL LIGHTNING TRUST (unpublished). + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1910. + (See Chapter ccxcii.) +</pre> + <p> + VALENTINES TO HELEN AND OTHERS (not published). ADVICE TO PAINE (not + published). + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mark Twain, A Biography, 1835-1910, +Complete, by Albert Bigelow Paine + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARK TWAIN, A BIOGRAPHY, *** + +***** This file should be named 2988-h.htm or 2988-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/8/2988/ + +Produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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