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:
"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 a.s.sistance."
To one of the angel fish he wrote, just after his return:
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.
CCLXVII. VIEWS AND ADDRESSES
[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 t.i.tanic, with the destruction of many pa.s.sengers, 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.]
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 att.i.tude toward America, during the crisis of the Civil Wax, and to her royal consort, Prince Albert.
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.
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 s.p.a.ce at last for his freer and fuller educational undertakings. A great number of honored scholars, statesmen, and diplomats a.s.sembled on the college campus, a s.p.a.cious 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 a.s.sembled 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.
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.
In the same address he referred to the "G.o.d Trust" motto on the coins, and spoke approvingly of the President"s order for its removal.
We do not trust in G.o.d, 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 sh.o.r.es we should probably pray to be delivered from the plague, but we would put our main trust in the Board of Health.
Next morning, commenting on the report of this speech, he said:
"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."
I pleaded that the reporters were often young men, eager, and unmellowed in their sense of literary art.
"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."
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 G.o.d in any financial matter.
"I wanted to answer it," he said; "but I destroyed it. It didn"t seem worth noticing."
I asked how the motto had originated.
"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."
"Still the country has become broader. It took a brave man before the Civil War to confess he had read the "Age of Reason"."
"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."
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 G.o.d 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 pa.s.sed, and wrote a number of gay letters, some of which found their way into print.
It should be added that in the end there was no loss to any of the Knickerbocker depositors.
CCLXVIII. REDDING
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.
"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 a.s.sociation may not be lightly disregarded. His one other requirement was that the place should be complete.
"I don"t want to see it," he said, "until the cat is purring on the hearth."
Howells says:
"He had grown so weary of change, and so indifferent to it, that he was without interest."
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.
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.
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.
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 pet.i.tions 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.
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 antic.i.p.ation. A reporter or two and a special photographer came along, to be present at his arrival.
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:
"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."
He drew out a great handful of silver.
"Give them something--give everybody liberally that does any service."
There was a sort of open-air reception in waiting. Redding had recognized the occasion as historic. A varied a.s.semblage of vehicles festooned with flowers had gathered to offer a gallant country welcome.
It was now a little before six o"clock of that long June day, still and dreamlike; and to the people a.s.sembled 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.
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.
He was very quiet as we drove along. Once with gentle humor, looking over a white daisy field, he said: