mark twain, a biography, 1900-1907-第39节

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not　get　rid　of　a　feeling　of　self…consciousness；　for　most　people　turned　to
look；　though　I　was　fully　aware　that　I　did　not　in　the　least　come　into
their　scope　of　vision。　　They　saw　only　Mark　Twain。　　The　feeling　was　a　more
comfortably　one　at　The　Players；　where　we　sometimes　went　for　luncheon；　for
the　acquaintance　there　and　the　democracy　of　that　institution　had　a
tendency　to　eliminate　contrasts　and　incongruities。　　We　sat　at　the　Round
Table　among　those　good　fellows　who　were　always　so　glad　to　welcome　him。

Once　we　went　to　the　〃Music　Master；〃　that　tender　play　of　Charles　Klein's；
given　by　that　matchless　interpreter；　David　Warfield。　　Clemens　was
fascinated；　and　said　more　than　once：

〃It　is　as　permanent　as　'Rip　Van　Winkle。'　Warfield；　like　Jefferson；　can　go
on　playing　it　all　his　life。〃

We　went　behind　when　it　was　over；　and　I　could　see　that　Warfield　glowed
with　Mark　Twain's　unstinted　approval。　　Later；　when　I　saw　him　at　The
Players；　he　declared　that　no　former　compliment　had　ever　made　him　so
happy。

There　were　some　billiard　games　going　on　between　the　champions　Hoppe　and
Sutton；　at　the　Madison　Square　Garden；　and　Clemens；　with　his　eager
fondness　for　the　sport；　was　anxious　to　attend　them。　　He　did　not　like　to
go　anywhere　alone；　and　one　evening　he　invited　me　to　accompany　him。　　Just
as　he　stepped　into　the　auditorium　there　was　a　vigorous　round　of　applause。　
The　players　stopped；　somewhat　puzzled；　for　no　especially　brilliant　shot
had　been　made。　　Then　they　caught　the　figure　of　Mark　Twain　and　realized
that　the　game；　for　the　moment；　was　not　the　chief　attraction。　　The
audience　applauded　again；　and　waved　their　handkerchiefs。　　Such　a　tribute
is　not　often　paid　to　a　private　citizen。

Clemens　had　a　great　admiration　for　the　young　champion　Hoppe；　which　the
billiardist's　extreme　youth　and　brilliancy　invited；　and　he　watched　his
game　with　intense　eagerness。　　When　it　was　over　the　referee　said　a　few
words　and　invited　Mark　Twain　to　speak。　　He　rose　and　told　them　a　story…
probably　invented　on　the　instant。　　He　said：

　　　　　〃Once　in　Nevada　I　dropped　into　a　billiard…room　casually；　and　picked
　　　　　up　a　cue　and　began　to　knock　the　balls　around。　　The　proprietor；　who
　　　　　was　a　red…haired　man；　with　such　hair　as　I　have　never　seen　anywhere
　　　　　except　on　a　torch；　asked　me　if　I　would　like　to　play。　　I　said；　'Yes。'
　　　　　He　said；　'Knock　the　balls　around　a　little　and　let　me　see　how　you　can
　　　　　shoot。'　　So　I　knocked　them　around；　and　thought　I　was　doing　pretty
　　　　　well；　when　he　said；　'That's　all　right；　I'll　play　you　left…handed。'
　　　　　It　hurt　my　pride；　but　I　played　him。　　We　banked　for　the　shot　and　he
　　　　　won　it。　　Then　he　commenced　to　play；　and　I　commenced　to　chalk　my　cue
　　　　　to　get　ready　to　play；　and　he　went　on　playing；　and　I　went　on　chalking
　　　　　my　cue；　and　he　played　and　I　chalked　all　through　that　game。　　When　he
　　　　　had　run　his　string　out　I　said：

　　　　　〃That's　wonderful！　perfectly　wonderful！　　If　you　can　play　that　way
　　　　　left…handed　what　could　you　do　right…handed？'

　　　　　〃'Couldn't　do　anything；'　he　said。　　'I'm　a　left…handed　man。'〃

How　it　delighted　them！　　I　think　it　was　the　last　speech　of　any　sort　he　
made　that　season。　　A　week　or　two　later　he　went　to　Dublin；　New　Hampshire；
for　the　summerthis　time　to　the　Upton　House；　which　had　been　engaged　a
year　before；　the　Copley　Greene　place　being　now　occupied　by　its　owner。




CCXLVI

THE　SECOND　SUMMER　AT　DUBLIN

The　Upton　House　stands　on　the　edge　of　a　beautiful　beech　forest　some　two
or　three　miles　from　Dublin；　just　under　Monadnocka　good　way　up　the
slope。　　It　is　a　handsome；　roomy　frame…house；　and　had　a　long　colonnaded
veranda　overlooking　one　of　the　most　beautiful　landscape　visions　on　the
planet：　lake；　forest；　hill；　and　a　far　range　of　blue　mountainsall　the
handiwork　of　God　is　there。　　I　had　seen　these　things　in　paintings；　but　I
had　not　dreamed　that　such　a　view　really　existed。　　The　immediate
foreground　was　a　grassy　slope；　with　ancient；　blooming　apple…trees；　and
just　at　the　right　hand　Monadnock　rose；　superb　and　lofty；　sloping　down　to
the　panorama　below　that　stretched　away；　taking　on　an　ever　deeper　blue；
until　it　reached　that　remote　range　on　which　the　sky　rested　and　the　world
seemed　to　end。　　It　was　a　masterpiece　of　the　Greater　Mind；　and　of　the
highest　order；　perhaps；　for　it　had　in　it　nothing　of　the　touch　of　man。　　A
church　spire　glinted　here　and　there；　but　there　was　never　a　bit　of　field；
or　stone　wall；　or　cultivated　land。　　It　was　lonely；　it　was　unfriendly；　it
cared　nothing　whatever　for　humankind；　it　was　as　if　God；　after　creating
all　the　world；　had　wrought　His　masterwork　here；　and　had　been　so　engrossed
with　the　beauty　of　it　that　He　had　forgotten　to　give　it　a　soul。　　In　a
sense　this　was　true；　for　He　had　not　made　the　place　suitable　for　the
habitation　of　men。　　It　lacked　the　human　touch；　the　human　interest；　and　I
could　never　quite　believe　in　its　reality。

The　time　of　arrival　heightened　this　first　impression。　　It　was　mid…May　and
the　lilacs　were　prodigally　in　bloom；　but　the　bright　sunlight　was　chill
and　unnatural；　and　there　was　a　west　wind　that　laid　the　grass　flat　and
moaned　through　the　house；　and　continued　as　steadily　as　if　it　must　never
stop　from　year's　end　to　year's　end。　　It　seemed　a　spectral　land；　a　place
of　supernatural　beauty。　　Warm；　still；　languorous　days　would　come；　but
that　first　feeling　of　unreality　would　remain　permanent。　　I　believe　Jean
Clemens　was　the　only　one　who　ever　really　loved　the　place。　　Something
about　it　appealed　to　her　elemental　side　and　blended　with　her　melancholy
moods。　　She　dressed　always　in　white；　and　she　was　tall　and　pale　and
classically　beautiful；　and　she　was　often　silent；　like　a　spirit。　　She　had
a　little　retreat　for　herself　farther　up　the　mountain…side；　and　spent　most
of　her　days　there　wood…carving；　which　was　her　chief　diversion。

Clara　Clemens　did　not　come　to　the　place　at　all。　　She　was　not　yet　strong；
and　went　to　Norfolk；　Connecticut；　where　she　could　still　be　in　quiet
retirement　and　have　her　physician's　care。　　Miss　Hobby　came；　and　on　the
21st　of　May　the　dictations　were　resumed。　　We　began　in　his　bedroom；　as
before；　but　the　feeling　there　was　depressingthe　absence　of　the　great
carved　bed　and　other　furnishings；　which　had　been　so　much　a　part　of　the
picture；　was　felt　by　all　of　us。　　Nothing　of　the　old　luxury　and　richness
was　there。　　It　was　a　summer…furnished　place；　handsome　but　with　the
customary　bareness。　　At　the　end　of　this　first　session　he　dressed　in　his
snowy　flannels；　which　he　had　adopted　in　the　place　of　linen　for　summer
wear；　and　we　descended　to　the　veranda　and　looked　out　over　that　wide；
wonderful　expanse　of　scenery。

〃I　think　I　shall　like　it；〃　he　said；　〃when　I　get　acquainted　with　it；　and
get　it　classified　and　labeled；　and　I　think　we'll　do　our　dictating　out
here　hereafter。　　It　ought　to　be　an　inspiring　place。〃

So　the　dictations　were　transferred　to　the　long　veranda；　and　he　was
generally　ready　for　them；　a　white　figure　pacing　up　and　down　before　that
panoramic　background。　　During　the　earlier；　cooler　weeks　he　usually
continued　walking　with　measured　step　during　the　dictations；　pausing　now
and　then　to　look　across　the　far…lying　horizon。　　When　it　stormed　we　moved
into　the　great　living…room；　where　at　one　end　there　was　a　fireplace　with
blazing　logs；　and　at　the　other　the　orchestrelle；　which　had　once　more　been
freighted　up　those　mountain　heights　for　the　comfort　of　its　harmonies。　
Sometimes；　when　the　wind　and　rain　were　beating　outside；　and　he　was
striding　up　and　down　the　long　room　within；　with　only　the　blurred　shapes
of　mountains　and　trees　outlined　through　the　trailing　rain；　the　feeling　of
the　unreality　became　so　strong　that　it　was　hard　to　believe　that　somewhere
down　below；　beyond　the　rain　and　the　woods；　there　was　a　literal　worlda
commonplace　world；　where　the　ordinary　things　of　life　were　going　on　in　the
usual　way。　　When　the　dictation　finished　early；　there　would　be　musicthe
music　that　he　loved　mostBeethoven's　symphonies；　or　the　Schubert
impromptu；　or　the　sonata　by　Chopin。＇Schubert；　Op。　142；　No。　2；　Chopin；
Op。　37；　No。　2。＇　It　is　easy　to　understand　that　this　carried　one　a　remove
farther　from　the　customary　things　of　life。　　It　was　a　setting　far　out　of
the　usual；　though　it　became　that　unique　white　figure　and　his　occupation。　
In　my　notes；　made　from　day　to　day；　I　find　that　I　have　set　down　more　than
once　an　impression　of　the　curious　unreality　of　the　place　and　its
surroundings；　which　would　show　that　it　was　not　a　mere　passing　fancy。

I　had　lodgings　in　the　village；　and　drove　out　mornings　for　the　dictations；
but　often　came　out　again　afoot　on　pleasant　afternoons；　for　he　was　not
much　occupied　with　social　matters；　and　there　was　opportunity　for　quiet；
informing　interviews。　　There　was　a　woods　path　to　the　Upton　place；　and　it
was　a　walk　through　a　fairyland。　　A　part　of　the　way　was　through　such　a
growth　of　beech　timber　as　I　have　never　seen　elsewhere：　tall；　straight；
mottled　trees　with　an　undergrowth　of　laurel；　the　sunlight　sifting
through；　one　found　it　easy　to　expect　there　storybook　ladies；　wearing
crowns　and　green　mantles；　riding　on　white　palfreys。　　Then　came　a　more
open　way；　an　abandoned　grass…grown　road　full　of　sunlight　and　perfume；　and
this　led　to　a　dim；　religious　place；　a　natural　cathedral；　where　the
columns　were　stately