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my secretary to the country for a fortnight last Saturday； they
banished Clara to the country for a fortnight last Monday 。 。 。 。
They banished me to Bermuda to sail next Wednesday； but I struck and
sha'n't go。 My complaint is permanent bronchitis & is one of the
very best assets I've got； for it excuses me from every public
function this winter& all other winters that may come。
If he had bronchitis when this letter was written； it must have been of a
very mild form； for it did not interfere with billiard games； which were
more protracted and strenuous than at almost any other period。 I
conclude； therefore； that it was a convenient bronchitis； useful on
occasion。
For a full ten days we were alone in the big house with the servants。 It
was a holiday most of the time。 We hurried through the mail in the
morning and the telephone calls； then； while I answered such letters as
required attention； he dictated for an hour or so to Miss Hobby； after
which； billiards for the rest of the day and evening。 When callers were
reported by the butler； I went down and got rid of them。 Clara Clemens；
before her departure； had pinned up a sign； 〃NO BILLIARDS AFTER 10 P。M。；〃
which still hung on the wall； but it was outlawed。 Clemens occasionally
planned excursions to Bermuda and other places； but； remembering the
billiard…table； which he could not handily take along； he abandoned these
projects。 He was a boy whose parents had been called away； left to his
own devices； and bent on a good time。
There were likely to be irritations in his morning's mail； and more often
he did not wish to see it until it had been pretty carefully sifted。 So
many people wrote who wanted things； so many others who made the claim of
more or less distant acquaintanceship the excuse for long and trivial
letters。
〃I have stirred up three generations；〃 he said； 〃first the grandparents；
then the children； and now the grandchildren； the great…grandchildren
will begin to arrive soon。〃
His mail was always large； but often it did not look interesting。 One
could tell from the envelope and the superscription something of the
contents。 Going over one assortment he burst out：
〃Look at them！ Look how trivial they are！ Every envelope looks as if it
contained a trivial human soul。〃
Many letters were filled with fulsome praise and compliment； usually of
one pattern。 He was sated with such things； and seldom found it possible
to bear more than a line or two of them。 Yet a fresh； well…expressed
note of appreciation always pleased him。
〃I can live for two months on a good compliment；〃 he once said。
Certain persistent correspondents； too self…centered to realize their
lack of consideration； or the futility of their purpose； followed him
relentlessly。 Of one such he remarked：
〃That woman intends to pursue me to the grave。 I wish something could be
done to appease her。〃
And again：
〃Everybody in the world who wants something0something of no interest to
mewrites to me to get it。〃
These morning sessions were likely to be of great interest。 Once a
letter spoke of the desirability of being an optimist。 〃That word
perfectly disgusts me；〃 he said； and his features materialized the
disgust； 〃just as that other word； pessimist； does； and the idea that one
can； by any effort of will； be one or the other； any more than he can
change the color of his hair。 The reason why a man is a pessimist or an
optimist is not because he wants to be； but because he was born so； and
this man ＇a minister of the Gospel who was going to explain life to him＇
is going to tell me why he isn't a pessimist。 Oh； he'll do it； but he
won't tell the truth； he won't make it short enough。〃
Yet he was always patient with any one who came with spiritual messages；
theological arguments； and consolations。 He might have said to them：
〃Oh； dear friends； those things of which you speak are the toys that long
ago I played with and set aside。〃 He could have said it and spoken the
truth； but I believe he did not even think it。 He listened to any one
for whom he had respect； and was grateful for any effort in his behalf。
One morning he read aloud a lecture given in London by George Bernard
Shaw on religion； commenting as he read。 He said：
〃This letter is a frank breath of expression ＇and his comments were
equally frank＇。 There is no such thing as morality； it is not immoral
for the tiger to eat the wolf； or the wolf the cat； or the cat the bird；
and so on down； that is their business。 There is always enough for each
one to live on。 It is not immoral for one nation to seize another nation
by force of arms； or for one man to seize another man's property or life
if he is strong enough and wants to take it。 It is not immoral to create
the human specieswith or without ceremony； nature intended exactly
these things。〃
At one place in the lecture Shaw had said： 〃No one of good sense can
accept any creed to…day without reservation。〃
〃Certainly not；〃 commented Clemens； 〃the reservation is that he is a dd
fool to accept it at all。〃
He was in one of his somber moods that morning。 I had received a print
of a large picture of Thomas Nastthe last one taken。 The face had a
pathetic expression which told the tragedy of his last years。 Clemens
looked at the picture several moments without speaking。 Then he broke
out：
〃Why can't a man die when he's had his tragedy？ I ought to have died
long ago。〃 And somewhat later： 〃Once Twichell heard me cussing the human
race； and he said； 'Why； Mark； you are the last person in the world to do
thatone selected and set apart as you are。' I said 'Joe； you don't
know what you are talking about。 I am not cussing altogether about my
own little troubles。 Any one can stand his own misfortunes； but when I
read in the papers all about the rascalities and outrages going on I
realize what a creature the human animal is。 Don't you care more about
the wretchedness of others than anything that happens to you？' Joe said
he did； and shut up。〃
It occurred to me to suggest that he should not read the daily papers。
〃No difference；〃 he said。 〃I read books printed two hundred years ago；
and they hurt just the same。〃
〃Those people are all dead and gone；〃 I objected。
〃They hurt just the same；〃 he maintained。
I sometimes thought of his inner consciousness as a pool darkened by his
tragedies； its glassy surface； when calm； reflecting all the joy and
sunlight and merriment of the world； but easilyso easilytroubled and
stirred even to violence。 Once following the dictation； when I came to
the billiard…room he was shooting the balls about the table； apparently
much depressed。 He said：
〃I have been thinking it outif I live two years more I will put an end
to it all。 I will kill myself。〃
〃You have much to live for〃
〃But I am so tired of the eternal round；〃 he interrupted； 〃so tired。〃
And I knew he meant that he was ill of the great loneliness that had come
to him that day in Florence； and would never pass away。
I referred to the pressure of social demands in the city； and the relief
he would find in his country home。 He sh