Clemens closed his lecture tour in March with a profit of something more
than eight thousand dollars. He had intended to make a spring tour of
California, but went to Elmira instead. The revised proofs of his book
were coming now, and he and gentle Livy Langdon read them together.
Samuel Clemens realized presently that the girl he had chosen had a
delicate literary judgment. She became all at once his editor, a
position she held until her death. Her refining influence had much to do
with Mark Twain's success, then and later, and the world owes her a debt
of gratitude. Through that first pleasant summer these two worked at the
proofs and planned for their future, and were very happy indeed.
It was about the end of July when the big book appeared at last, and its
success was startling. Nothing like it had ever been known before. Mark
Twain's name seemed suddenly to be on every tongue--his book in
everybody's hands. From one end of the country to the other, readers
were hailing him as the greatest humorist and descriptive writer of
modern times. By the first of the year more than thirty thousand volumes
had been sold. It was a book of travel; its lowest price was three and a
half dollars; the record has not been equaled since. In England also
large editions had been issued, and translations into foreign languages
were under way. It was and is a great book, because it is a human book
--a book written straight from the heart.
If Mark Twain had not been famous before, he was so now. Indeed, it is
doubtful if any other American author was so widely known and read as the
author of "The Innocents Abroad" during that first half-year after its
publication.
Yet for some reason he still did not regard himself as a literary man.
He was a journalist, and began to look about for a paper which he could
buy-his idea being to establish a business and a home. Through Mr.
Langdon's assistance, he finally obtained an interest in the "Buffalo
Express," and the end of the year 1869 found him established as its
associate editor, though still lecturing here and there, because his
wedding-day was near at hand and there must be no lack of funds.
It was the 2d of February, 1870, that Samuel Clemens and Olivia Langdon
were married. A few days before, he sat down one night and wrote to
Jim Gillis, away out in the Tuolumne Hills, and told him of all his good
fortune, recalling their days at Angel's Camp, and the absurd frog story,
which he said had been the beginning of his happiness. In the five years
since then he had traveled a long way, but he had not forgotten.
On the morning of his wedding-day Mark Twain received from his publisher
a check for four thousand dollars, his profit from three months' sales of
the book, a handsome sum.
The wedding was mainly a family affair. Twichell and his wife came over
from Hartford--Twichell to assist Thomas K. Beecher in performing the
ceremony. Jane Clemens could not come, nor Orion and his wife; but
Pamela, a widow now, and her daughter Annie, grown to a young lady,
arrived from St. Louis. Not more than one hundred guests gathered in the
stately Langdon parlors that in future would hold so much history for
Samuel Clemens and Olivia Langdon--so much of the story of life and death
that thus made its beginning there. Then, at seven in the evening, they
were married, and the bride danced with her father, and the Rev. Thomas
Beecher declared she wore the longest gloves he had ever seen.
It was the next afternoon that the wedding-party set out for Buffalo.
Through a Mr. Slee, an agent of Mr. Langdon's, Clemens had engaged, as he
supposed, a boarding-house, quiet and unpretentious, for he meant to
start his married life modestly. Jervis Langdon had a plan of his own
for his daughter, but Clemens had received no inkling of it, and had full
faith in the letter which Slee had written, saying that a choice and
inexpensive boarding-house had been secured. When, about nine o'clock
that night, the party reached Buffalo, they found Mr. Slee waiting at the
station. There was snow, and sleighs had been ordered. Soon after
starting, the sleigh of the bride and groom fell behind and drove about
rather aimlessly, apparently going nowhere in particular. This disturbed
the groom, who thought they should arrive first and receive their guests.
He criticized Slee for selecting a house that was so hard to find, and
when they turned at last into Delaware Avenue, Buffalo's finest street,
and stopped before a handsome house, he was troubled concerning the
richness of the locality.
They were on the steps when the door 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 it all--the
completeness of their possession. At last his young wife put her hand
upon his arm.
"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."
But still he could not quite grasp it, and Mr. Langdon brought a little
box and, opening it, handed them the deeds.
Nobody quite remembers what was the first remark that Samuel Clemens
made, but either then or a little later he said:
"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."