"Mark, to-day, was immensely absorbed in flowers. He scrambled around and gathered a great variety, and manifested the intensest pleasure in them . . . . 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 today. His vigorous speech nearly did justice to the things we saw."
And in another place:
"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 were in a hurry.""
Another extract refers to an incident which Mark Twain also mentions in "A Tramp Abroad:" [8]
"Mark is a queer fellow. There is nothing so delights him as a swift, strong stream. You can hardly get him to leave one when once he is in the influence of its fascinations. To throw in stones and sticks seems to afford him rapture."
Twich.e.l.l goes on to tell how he threw some driftwood into a racing torrent and how Mark went running down-stream after it, waving and shouting in a sort of mad ecstasy.
When a piece went over a fall and emerged to view in the foam below, he would jump up and down and yell. He acted just like a boy.
Boy he was, then and always. Like Peter Pan, he never really grew up --that is, if growing up means to grow solemn and uninterested in play.
Climbing the Gorner Grat with Twich.e.l.l, they sat down to rest, and a lamb from a near-by flock ventured toward them. Clemens held out his hand and called softly. The lamb ventured nearer, curious but timid.
It was a scene for a painter: the great American humorist on one side of the game, and the 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 Mark"s hand, and he was happy all the rest of the day.
"In A Tramp Abroad" Mark Twain burlesques most of the walking-tour with Harris (Twich.e.l.l), feeling, perhaps, that he must make humor at whatever cost. But to-day the other side of the picture seems more worth while.
That it seemed so to him, also, even at the time, we may gather from a letter he sent after Twich.e.l.l when it was all over and Twich.e.l.l was on his way home:
"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 for 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 time 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 journey and the times when I was not unworthy to be with you and share a companionship which to me stands first after Livy"s."
Clemens had joined his family at Lausanne, and presently they journeyed down into Italy, returning later to Germany--to Munich, where they lived quietly with Fraulein Dahlweiner at No. 1a Karlstra.s.se, while he worked on his new book of travel. When spring came they went to Paris, and later to London, where the usual round of entertainment briefly claimed them. It was the 3d of September, 1879, when they finally reached New York. The papers said that Mark Twain had changed in his year and a half of absence. He had, somehow, taken on a traveled look. One paper remarked that he looked older than when he went to Germany, and that his hair had turned quite gray.
[8] Chapter x.x.xIII.
XL.
"THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER"
They went directly to Quarry Farm, where Clemens again took up work on his book, which he hoped to have ready for early publication. But his writing did not go as well as he had hoped, and it was long after they had returned to Hartford that the book was finally in the printer"s hands.
Meantime he had renewed work on a story begun two years before at Quarry Farm. Browsing among the books there one summer day, he happened to pick up "The Prince and the Page," by Charlotte M. Yonge. It was a story of a prince disguised as a blind beggar, and, as Mark Twain read, an idea came to him for an altogether different story, or play, of his own. He would have a prince and a pauper change places, and through a series of adventures learn each the trials and burdens of the other life. He presently gave up the play idea, and began it as a story. His first intention had been to make the story quite modern, using the late King Edward VII. (then Prince of Wales) as his prince, but it seemed to him that it would not do to lose a prince among the slums of modern London --he could not make it seem real; so he followed back through history until he came to the little son of Henry VIII., Edward Tudor, and decided that he would do.
It was the kind of a story that Mark Twain loved to read and to write.
By the end of that first summer he had finished a good portion of the exciting adventures of "The Prince and the Pauper," and then, as was likely to happen, the inspiration waned and the ma.n.u.script was laid aside.
But with the completion of "A Tramp Abroad"--a task which had grown wearisome--he turned to the luxury of romance with a glad heart. To Howells he wrote that he was taking so much pleasure in the writing that he wanted to make it last.
"Did I ever tell you the plot of it? It begins at 9 A.M., January 27, 1547 . . . . 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."
Susy and Clara Clemens were old enough now to understand the story, and as he finished the chapters he read them aloud to his small home audience--a most valuable audience, indeed, for he could judge from its eager interest, or lack of attention, just the measure of his success.
These little creatures knew all about the writing of books. Susy"s earliest recollection was "Tom Sawyer" read aloud from the ma.n.u.script.
Also they knew about plays. They could not remember a time when they did not take part in evening charades--a favorite amus.e.m.e.nt in the Clemens home.
Mark Twain, who always loved his home and played with his children, invented the charades and their parts for them, at first, but as they grew older they did not need much help. With the Twich.e.l.l and Warner children they organized a little company for their productions, and entertained the a.s.sembled households. They did not make any preparation for their parts. A word was selected and the syllables of it 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 group marched into the library, performed its syllable, and retired, leaving the audience of parents to guess the answer. Now and then, even at this early day, they gave little plays, and of course Mark Twain could not resist joining them. In time the plays took the place of the charades and became quite elaborate, with a stage and scenery, but we shall hear of this later on.
"The Prince and the Pauper" came to an end in due season, in spite of the wish of both author and audience for it to go on forever. It was not published at once, for several reasons, the main one being that "A Tramp Abroad" had just been issued from the press, and a second book might interfere with its sale.
As it was, the "Tramp" proved a successful book--never as successful as the "Innocents," for neither its humor nor its description had quite the fresh quality of the earlier work. In the beginning, however, the sales were large, the advance orders amounting to twenty-five thousand copies, and the return to the author forty thousand dollars for the first year.
XLI.
GENERAL GRANT AT HARTFORD
A third little girl came to the Clemens household during the summer of 1880. They were then at Quarry Farm, and Clemens wrote to his friend Twich.e.l.l:
"DEAR OLD JOE,--Concerning Jean Clemens, if anybody said he "didn"t see no p"ints about that frog that"s any better than any other frog," I should think he was convicting himself of being a pretty poor sort of an observer. . . It is curious to note the change in the stock-quotations of the Affection Board. Four weeks ago the children put Mama at the head of the list right along, where she has always been, but now:
Jean Mama Motley }cat Fraulein }cat Papa
"That is the way it stands now. Mama is become No. 2; I have dropped from 4 and 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."
Those were happy days at Quarry Farm. The little new baby thrived on that summer hilltop.
Also, it may be said, the cats. Mark Twain"s children had inherited his love for cats, and at the farm were always cats of all ages and varieties. Many of the bed-time stories were about these pets--stories invented by Mark Twain as he went along--stories that began anywhere and ended nowhere, and continued indefinitely from evening to evening, trailing off into dreamland.
The great humorist cared less for dogs, though he was never unkind to them, and once at the farm a gentle hound named Bones won his affection.
When the end of the 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 about him, and bade him an affectionate good-by.
Eighteen hundred and eighty was a Presidential year. Mark Twain was for General Garfield, and made a number of remarkable speeches in his favor.
General Grant came to Hartford during the campaign, and Mark Twain was chosen to make the address of welcome. Perhaps no such address of welcome was ever made before. He began:
"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 a loss what to say next, and, leaning over, pretended to whisper to Grant. Then, as if he had been prompted by the great soldier, he straightened up and poured out a fervid eulogy on Grant"s victories, adding, in an aside, as he finished, "I nearly forgot that part of my speech," to the roaring delight of his hearers, while Grant himself grimly smiled.
He then spoke of the General being now out of public employment, and how grateful his country was to him, and how it stood ready to reward him in every conceivable--inexpensive--way.
Grant had smiled more than once during the speech, and when this sentence came out at the end his composure broke up altogether, while the throng shouted approval. Clemens made another speech that night at the opera-house--a speech long remembered in Hartford as one of the great efforts of his life.
A very warm friendship had grown up between Mark Twain and General Grant.
A year earlier, on the famous soldier"s return from his trip around the world, a great birthday banquet had been given him in Chicago, at which Mark Twain"s speech had been the event of the evening. The colonel who long before had chased the young pilot-soldier through the Mississippi bottoms had become his conquering hero, and Grant"s admiration for America"s foremost humorist was most hearty. Now and again Clemens urged General Grant to write his memoirs for publication, but the hero of many battles was afraid to venture into the field of letters. He had no confidence in his ability to write. He did not realize that the man who had written "I will fight it out on this line if it takes all summer,"
and, later, "Let us have peace," was capable of English as terse and forceful as the Latin of Caesar"s Commentaries.
XLII