my mark twain-第14部分

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year　in　Tenth　Street。　　I　used　to　see　him　there　in　an　upper　room；　looking
south　over　a　quiet　open　space　of　back　yards　where　we　fought　our　battles
in　behalf　of　the　Filipinos　and　the　Boers；　and　he　carried　on　his　campaign
against　the　missionaries　in　China。　　He　had　not　yet　formed　his　habit　of
lying　for　whole　days　in　bed　and　reading　and　writing　there；　yet　he　was　a
good　deal　in　bed；　from　weakness；　I　suppose；　and　for　the　mere　comfort　of
it。

My　perspectives　are　not　very　clear；　and　in　the　foreshortening　of　events
which　always　takes　place　in　our　review　of　the　past　I　may　not　always　time
things　aright。　　But　I　believe　it　was　not　until　he　had　taken　his　house　at
21　Fifth　Avenue　that　he　began　to　talk　to　me　of　writing　his　autobiography。
He　meant　that　it　should　be　a　perfectly　veracious　record　of　his　life　and
period；　for　the　first　time　in　literature　there　should　be　a　true　history
of　a　man　and　a　true　presentation　of　the　men　the　man　had　known。　　As　we
talked　it　over　the　scheme　enlarged　itself　in　our　riotous　fancy。　　We　said
it　should　be　not　only　a　book；　it　should　be　a　library；　not　only　a　library；
but　a　literature。　　It　should　make　good　the　world's　loss　through　Omar's
barbarity　at　Alexandria；　there　was　no　image　so　grotesque；　so　extravagant
that　we　did　not　play　with　it；　and　the　work　so　far　as　he　carried　it　was
really　done　on　a　colossal　scale。　　But　one　day　he　said　that　as　to　veracity
it　was　a　failure；　he　had　begun　to　lie；　and　that　if　no　man　ever　yet　told
the　truth　about　himself　it　was　because　no　man　ever　could。　　How　far　he　had
carried　his　autobiography　I　cannot　say；　he　dictated　the　matter　several
hours　each　day；　and　the　public　has　already　seen　long　passages　from　it；
and　can　judge；　probably；　of　the　make　and　matter　of　the　whole　from　these。
It　is　immensely　inclusive；　and　it　observes　no　order　or　sequence。　　Whether
now；　after　his　death；　it　will　be　published　soon　or　late　I　have　no　means
of　knowing。　　Once　or　twice　he　said　in　a　vague　way　that　it　was　not　to　be
published　for　twenty　years；　so　that　the　discomfort　of　publicity　might　be
minimized　for　all　the　survivors。　　Suddenly　he　told　me　he　was　not　working
at　it；　but　I　did　not　understand　whether　he　had　finished　it　or　merely
dropped　it；　I　never　asked。

We　lived　in　the　same　city；　but　for　old　men　rather　far　apart；　he　at　Tenth
Street　and　I　at　Seventieth；　and　with　our　colds　and　other　disabilities　we
did　not　see　each　other　often。　　He　expected　me　to　come　to　him；　and　I　would
not　without　some　return　of　my　visits；　but　we　never　ceased　to　be　friends；
and　good　friends；　so　far　as　I　know。　　I　joked　him　once　as　to　how　I　was
going　to　come　out　in　his　autobiography；　and　he　gave　me　some　sort　of
joking　reassurance。　　There　was　one　incident；　however；　that　brought　us
very　frequently　and　actively　together。　　He　came　one　Sunday　afternoon　to
have　me　call　with　him　on　Maxim　Gorky；　who　was　staying　at　a　hotel　a　few
streets　above　mine。　　We　were　both　interested　in　Gorky；　Clemens　rather
more　as　a　revolutionist　and　I　as　a　realist；　though　I　too　wished　the
Russian　Tsar　ill；　and　the　novelist　well　in　his　mission　to　the　Russian
sympathizers　in　this　republic。　　But　I　had　lived　through　the　episode　of
Kossuth's　visit　to　us　and　his　vain　endeavor　to　raise　funds　for　the
Hungarian　cause　in　1851；　when　we　were　a　younger　and　nobler　nation　than
now；　with　hearts　if　not　hands；　opener　to　the　〃oppressed　of　Europe〃；　the
oppressed　of　America；　the　four　or　five　millions　of　slaves；　we　did　not
count。　　I　did　not　believe　that　Gorky　could　get　the　money　for　the　cause　of
freedom　in　Russia　which　he　had　come　to　get；　as　I　told　a　valued　friend　of
his　and　mine；　I　did　not　believe　he　could　get　twenty…five　hundred　dollars；
and　I　think　now　I　set　the　figure　too　high。　　I　had　already　refused　to　sign
the　sort　of　general　appeal　his　friends　were　making　to　our　principles　and
pockets　because　I　felt　it　so　wholly　idle；　and　when　the　paper　was　produced
in　Gorky's　presence　and　Clemens　put　his　name　to　it　I　still　refused。　　The
next　day　Gorky　was　expelled　from　his　hotel　with　the　woman　who　was　not　his
wife；　but　who；　I　am　bound　to　say；　did　not　look　as　if　she　were　not；　at
least　to　me；　who　am；　however；　not　versed　in　those　aspects　of　human
nature。

I　might　have　escaped　unnoted；　but　Clemens's　familiar　head　gave　us　away　to
the　reporters　waiting　at　the　elevator's　mouth　for　all　who　went　to　see
Gorky。　　As　it　was；　a　hunt　of　interviewers　ensued　for　us　severally　and
jointly。　　I　could　remain　aloof　in　my　hotel　apartment；　returning　answer　to
such　guardians　of　the　public　right　to　know　everything　that　I　had　nothing
to　say　of　Gorky's　domestic　affairs；　for　the　public　interest　had　now
strayed　far　from　the　revolution；　and　centred　entirely　upon　these。　　But
with　Clemens　it　was　different；　he　lived　in　a　house　with　a　street　door
kept　by　a　single　butler；　and　he　was　constantly　rung　for。　　I　forget　how
long　the　siege　lasted；　but　long　enough　for　us　to　have　fun　with　it。　　That
was　the　moment　of　the　great　Vesuvian　eruption；　and　we　figured　ourselves
in　easy　reach　of　a　volcano　which　was　every　now　and　then　〃blowing　a　cone
off；〃　as　the　telegraphic　phrase　was。　　The　roof　of　the　great　market　in
Naples　had　just　broken　in　under　its　load　of　ashes　and　cinders；　and
crashed　hundreds　of　people；　and　we　asked　each　other　if　we　were　not　sorry
we　had　not　been　there；　where　the　pressure　would　have　been　far　less
terrific　than　it　was　with　us　in　Fifth　Avenue。　　The　forbidden　butler　came
up　with　a　message　that　there　were　some　gentlemen　below　who　wanted　to　see
Clemens。

〃How　many？〃　he　demanded。

〃Five；〃　the　butler　faltered。

〃Reporters？〃

The　butler　feigned　uncertainty。

〃What　would　you　do？〃　he　asked　me。

〃I　wouldn't　see　them；〃　I　said；　and　then　Clemens　went　directly　down　to
them。　　How　or　by　what　means　he　appeased　their　voracity　I　cannot　say；　but
I　fancy　it　was　by　the　confession　of　the　exact　truth；　which　was　harmless
enough。　　They　went　away　joyfully；　and　he　came　back　in　radiant
satisfaction　with　having　seen　them。　　Of　course　he　was　right　and　I　wrong；
and　he　was　right　as　to　the　point　at　issue　between　Gorky　and　those　who　had
helplessly　treated　him　with　such　cruel　ignominy。　　In　America　it　is　not
the　convention　for　men　to　live　openly　in　hotels　with　women　who　are　not
their　wives。　　Gorky　had　violated　this　convention　and　he　had　to　pay　the
penalty；　and　concerning　the　destruction　of　his　efficiency　as　an　emissary
of　the　revolution；　his　blunder　was　worse　than　a　crime。




XXIV。

To　the　period　of　Clemens's　residence　in　Fifth　Avenue　belongs　his
efflorescence　in　white　serge。　　He　was　always　rather　aggressively
indifferent　about　dress；　and　at　a　very　early　date　in　our　acquaintance
Aldrich　and　I　attempted　his　reform　by　clubbing　to　buy　him　a　cravat。
But　he　would　not　put　away　his　stiff　little　black　bow；　and　until　he
imagined　the　suit　of　white　serge；　he　wore　always　a　suit　of　black　serge；
truly　deplorable　in　the　cut　of　the　sagging　frock。　　After　his　measure　had
once　been　taken　he　refused　to　make　his　clothes　the　occasion　of　personal
interviews　with　his　tailor；　he　sent　the　stuff　by　the　kind　elderly　woman
who　had　been　in　the　service　of　the　family　from　the　earliest　days　of　his
marriage；　and　accepted　the　result　without　criticism。　　But　the　white　serge
was　an　inspiration　which　few　men　would　have　had　the　courage　to　act　upon。
The　first　time　I　saw　him　wear　it　was　at　the　authors'　hearing　before　the
Congressional　Committee　on　Copyright　in　Washington。　　Nothing　could　have
been　more　dramatic　than　the　gesture　with　which　he　flung　off　his　long
loose　overcoat；　and　stood　forth　in　white　from　his　feet　to　the　crown　of
his　silvery　head。　　It　was　a　magnificent　coup；　and　he　dearly　loved　a　coup；
but　the　magnificent　speech　which　he　made；　tearing　to　shreds　the　venerable
farrago　of　nonsense　about　nonproperty　in　ideas　which　had　formed　the　basis
of　all　copyright　legislation；　made　you　forget　even　his　spectacularity。

It　is　well　known　how　proud　he　was　of　his　Oxford　gown；　not　merely　because
it　symbolized　the　honor　in　which　he　was　held　by　the　highest　literary　body
in　the　world；　but　because　it　was　so　rich　and　so　beautiful。　　The　red　and
the　lavender　of　the　cloth　flattered　his　eyes　as　the　silken　black　of　the
same　degree　of　Doctor　of　Letters；　given　him　years　before　at　Yale；　could
not　do。　　His　frank；　defiant　happiness　in　it；　mixed　with　a　due　sense　of
burlesque；　was　something　that　those　lacking　his　poet…soul　could　never
imagine；　they　accounted　it　vain；　weak；　but　that　would　not　have　mattered
to　him　if　he　had　known　it。　　In　his　London　sojourn　he　had　formed　the　top…
hat　habit；　and　for　a　while　he　lounged　splendidly　up　and　down　Fifth　Avenue
in　that　society　emblem；　but　he　seemed　to　tire　of　it；　and　to　return　kindly
to　the　soft　hat　of　his　Southwestern　tradition。

He　disliked　clubs；　I　don't　know　whether　he　belonged　to　any　in　New　York；
but　I　never　met　him　in　one。　　As　I　have　told；　he　himself　had　formed　the
Human　Race　Club；　but　as　he　never　could　get　it　together　it　hardly　counted。
There　was　to　have　been　a　meeting　of　it　the　time　of　my　only　visit　to
Stormfield　in　April　of　last　year；　but　of　three　who　were　to　have　come　I
alone　came。　　We　got　on　very　well　without　the　absentees；　after　finding
them　in　the　wrong；　as　usual；　and　the　visit　was　like　those　I　used　to　have
with　him　so　many　years　before　in　Hartford；　but　there　was　not　the　old
ferment　of　subjects。　　Many　things　had　been　discussed　and　put　away　for
good；　but　we　had　our　old　fondness　for　nature　and　for　each　other；　who　were
so　differently　parts　of　it。　　He　showed　his　absolute　content　with　his
house；　and　that　was　the　greater　pleasure　for　me　because　it　was　my　son　who
designed　it。　　The　architect　had　been　so　fortunate　as　to　be　able　to　plan
it　where　a　natural　avenue　of　savins；　the　closeknit；　slender；　cypress…like
cedars　of　New　England；　led　away　from　the　rear　of　the　villa　to　the　little
level　of　a　pergola；　meant　some　day　to　be　wreathed　and　roofed　with　vines。
But　in　the　early　spring　days　all　the　landscape　was　in　the　beautiful
nakedness　of　the　northern　winter。　　It　opened　in　the　surpassing　loveliness
of　wooded　and　meadowed　uplands；　under　skies　that　were　the　first　days
blue；　and　the　last　gray　over　a　rainy　and　then　a　snowy　floor。　　We　walked
up　and　down；　up　and　down；　between　the　villa　terrace　and　the　pergola；　and
talked　with　the　melancholy　amusement；　the　sad　tolerance　of　ag