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.
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.
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.
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.”
Howells adds that the show netted seventeen hundred dollars. This was
early in May.
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.
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.
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:
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.
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:
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.
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.
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.
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.]
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!
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: