mark twain, a biography, 1866-1875-第41部分

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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。

Below　was　a　wide；　covered　veranda；　the　〃ombra；〃　as　they　called　it；
secluded　from　the　public　eyea　favorite　family　gathering…place　on
pleasant　days。

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。

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。

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。

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：

　　　　　She　was；　in　a　way；　the　loveliest　person　I　have　ever　seenthe
　　　　　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。

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。　Clemensher　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。〃

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。

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！〃

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：

　　　　　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！〃

Clemens　would　pretend　to　a　visitor　that　she　had　been　violently　indignant
over　some　offense　of　his；　perhaps　he　would　say：

〃Well　I　contradicted　her　just　now；　and　the　crockery　will　begin　to　fly
pretty　soon。〃

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：

　　　　　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。




XCVII

THE　WALK　TO　BOSTON

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：

　　　　　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。

And　as　usual　Clemens；　finding　the　letter　unfinished；　took　up　the　story。

　　　　　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。

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。

It　was　during　one　of　their　walks　to　the　tower　that　they　planned　a　far
more　extraordinary　undertakingnothing　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。

Clemens　wrote　Redpath：

DEAR　REDPATH；　Rev。　J。　H。　Twichell　and　I　expect　to　start　at　8　o'clock
Thursday　morning　to　walk　to　Boston　in　twenty　four　hoursor　more。　　We
shall　telegraph　Young's　Hotel　for　rooms　Saturday　night；　in　order　to　allow
for　a　low　average　of　pedestrianism。

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。

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。〃

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。

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：

　　　　　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　ha