mark twain, a biography, 1900-1907-第32章
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moderately or even modestly observed。 The date was set five days later
than the actual birthdaythat is to say； on December 5th； in order that
it might not conflict with the various Thanksgiving holidays and
occasions。 Delmonico's great room was chosen for the celebration of it；
and invitations were sent out to practically every writer of any
distinction in America； and to many abroad。 Of these nearly two hundred
accepted； while such as could not come sent pathetic regrets。
What an occasion it was！ The flower of American literature gathered to
do honor to its chief。 The whole atmosphere of the place seemed
permeated with his presence； and when Colonel Harvey presented William
Dean Howells； and when Howells had read another double…barreled sonnet；
and introduced the guest of the evening with the words； 〃I will not say；
'O King； live forever；' but； 'O King； live as long as you like！'〃 and
Mark Twain rose； his snow…white hair gleaming above that brilliant
assembly； it seemed that a world was speaking out in a voice of applause
and welcome。 With a great tumult the throng rose； a billow of life； the
white handkerchiefs flying foam…like on its crest。 Those who had
gathered there realized that it was a mighty moment； not only in his life
but in theirs。 They were there to see this supreme embodiment of the
American spirit as he scaled the mountain…top。 He； too； realized the
drama of that momentthe marvel of itand he must have flashed a swift
panoramic view backward over the long way he had come； to stand； as he
had himself once expressed it； 〃for a single； splendid moment on the Alps
of fame outlined against the sun。〃 He must have remembered； for when he
came to speak he went back to the very beginning； to his very first
banquet； as he called it； when； as he said； 〃I hadn't any hair； I hadn't
any teeth； I hadn't any clothes。〃 He sketched the meagerness of that
little hamlet which had seen his birth； sketched it playfully；
delightfully； so that his hearers laughed and shouted； but there was
always a tenderness under it all； and often the tears were not far
beneath the surface。 He told of his habits of life； how he had attained
seventy years by simply sticking to a scheme of living which would kill
anybody else； how he smoked constantly； loathed exercise； and had no
other regularity of habits。 Then； at last； he reached that wonderful；
unforgetable close：
Threescore years and ten！
It is the scriptural statute of limitations。 After that you owe no
active duties； for you the strenuous life is over。 You are a time…
expired man； to use Kipling's military phrase： You have served your
term； well or less well； and you are mustered out。 You are become
an honorary member of the republic； you are emancipated； compulsions
are not for you； nor any bugle…call but 〃lights out。〃 You pay the
time…worn duty bills if you choose； or decline if you preferand
without prejudicefor they are not legally collectable。
The previous…engagement plea； which in forty years has cost you so
many twinges； you can lay aside forever； on this side of the grave
you will never need it again。 If you shrink at thought of night；
and winter； and the late homecomings from the banquet and the lights
and laughter through the deserted streetsa desolation which would
not remind you now； as for a generation it did； that your friends
are sleeping and you must creep in a…tiptoe and not disturb them；
but would only remind you that you need not tiptoe； you can never
disturb them moreif you shrink at the thought of these things you
need only reply； 〃Your invitation honors me and pleases me because
you still keep me in your remembrance； but I am seventy； seventy；
and would nestle in the chinmey…corner； and smoke my pipe； and read
my book； and take my rest； wishing you well in all affection； and
that when you in your turn shall arrive at Pier 70 you may step
aboard your waiting ship with a reconciled spirit； and lay your
course toward the sinking sun with a contented heart。〃
The tears that had been lying in wait were not restrained now。 If there
were any present who did not let them flow without shame； who did not
shout their applause from throats choked with sobs； the writer of these
lines failed to see them or to hear of them。 There was not one who was
ashamed to pay the great tribute of tears。
Many of his old friends； one after another； rose to tell their love for
himBrander Matthews； Cable； Kate Douglas Riggs； Gilder； Carnegie；
Bangs； Bachellerthey kept it up far into the next morning。 No other
arrival at Pier 70 ever awoke a grander welcome。
CCXXXVII
AFTERMATH
The announcement of the seventieth birthday dinner had precipitated a
perfect avalanche of letters； which continued to flow in until the news
accounts of it precipitated another avalanche。 The carriers' bags were
stuffed with greetings that came from every part of the world； from every
class of humanity。 They were all full of love and tender wishes。 A card
signed only with initials said： 〃God bless your old sweet soul for having
lived。〃
Aldrich； who could not attend the dinner； declared that all through the
evening he had been listening in his mind to a murmur of voices in the
hall at Delmonico's。 A group of English authors in London combined in a
cable of congratulations。 Anstey； Alfred Austin； Balfour； Barrie； Bryce；
Chesterton； Dobson； Doyle； Gosse； Hardy； Hope； Jacobs； Kipling； Lang；
Parker； Tenniel； Watson； and Zangwill were among the signatures。
Helen Keller wrote：
And you are seventy years old？ Or is the report exaggerated； like
that of your death？ I remember； when I saw you last； at the house
of dear Mr。 Hutton； in Princeton； you said：
〃If a man is a pessimist before he is forty…eight he knows too much。
If he is an optimist after he is forty…eight he knows too little。〃
Now we know you are an optimist； and nobody would dare to accuse one
on the 〃seven…terraced summit〃 of knowing little。 So probably you
are not seventy after all； but only forty…seven！
Helen Keller was right。 Mark Twain was not a pessimist in his heart； but
only by premeditation。 It was his observation and his logic that led him
to write those things that； even in their bitterness； somehow conveyed
that spirit of human sympathy which is so closely linked to hope。 To
Miss Keller he wrote：
〃Oh； thank you for your lovely words！〃
He was given another birthday celebration that monththis time by the
Society of Illustrators。 Dan Beard； president； was also toast…master；
and as he presented Mark Twain there was a trumpet…note； and a lovely
girl； costumed as Joan of Arc； entered and； approaching him； presented
him with a laurel wreath。 It was planned and carried out as a surprise
to him； and he hardly knew for the moment whether it was a vision or a
reality。 He was deeply affected； so much so that for several moments he
could not find his voice to make any acknowledgments。
Clemens was more than ever sought now； and he responded when the cause
was a worthy one。 He spoke for the benefit of the Russian sufferers at
the Casino on December 18th。 Madame Sarah Bernhardt was also there； and
spoke in French。 He followed her； declaring that it seemed a sort of
cruelty to inflict upon an audience our rude English after hearing that
divine speech flowing in that lucid Gallic tongue。
It has always been a marvel to methat French language； it has
always been a puzzle to me。 How beautiful that language is！ How
expressive it seems to be！ How full of grace it is！
And when it comes from lips like those； how eloquent and how limpid
it is！ And； oh； I am always deceivedI always think I am going to
understand it。
It is such a delight to me； such a delight to me； to meet Madame
Bernhardt； and laugh hand to hand and heart to heart with her。 I
have seen her play； as we all have； and； oh； that is divine； but I
have always wanted to know Madame Bernhardt herselfher fiery s
