Twains Letters vol 5 1901-1906 | Page 6

old philosopher and that of Captain Ned
Wakeman, a splendidly uncultured old sailor, but in his own opinion a

thinker by divine right. He was an old friend of mine of many years'
standing; I made two or three voyages with him, and found him a
darling in many ways. The petroleum story was not told to me; he told
it to Joe Twichell, who ran across him by accident on a sea voyage
where I think the two were the only passengers. A delicious pair, and
admirably mated, they took to each other at once and became as thick
as thieves. Joe was passing under a fictitious name, and old Wakeman
didn't suspect that he was a parson; so he gave his profanity full swing,
and he was a master of that great art. You probably know Twichell, and
will know that that is a kind of refreshment which he is very capable of
enjoying. Sincerely yours, S. L. CLEMENS.
For the summer Clemens and his family found a comfortable lodge in
the Adirondacks--a log cabin called "The Lair"--on Saranac Lake. Soon
after his arrival there he received an invitation to attend the celebration
of Missouri's eightieth anniversary. He sent the following letter:
To Edward L. Dimmitt, in St. Louis:
AMONG THE ADIRONDACK LAKES, July 19, 1901. DEAR MR.
DIMMITT,--By an error in the plans, things go wrong end first in this
world, and much precious time is lost and matters of urgent importance
are fatally retarded. Invitations which a brisk young fellow should get,
and which would transport him with joy, are delayed and impeded and
obstructed until they are fifty years overdue when they reach him.
It has happened again in this case.
When I was a boy in Missouri I was always on the lookout for
invitations but they always miscarried and went wandering through the
aisles of time; and now they are arriving when I am old and rheumatic
and can't travel and must lose my chance.
I have lost a world of delight through this matter of delaying invitations.
Fifty years ago I would have gone eagerly across the world to help
celebrate anything that might turn up. IT would have made no
difference to me what it was, so that I was there and allowed a chance
to make a noise.
The whole scheme of things is turned wrong end to. Life should begin
with age and its privileges and accumulations, and end with youth and
its capacity to splendidly enjoy such advantages. As things are now,
when in youth a dollar would bring a hundred pleasures, you can't have
it. When you are old, you get it and there is nothing worth buying with

it then.
It's an epitome of life. The first half of it consists of the capacity to
enjoy without the chance; the last half consists of the chance without
the capacity.
I am admonished in many ways that time is pushing me inexorably
along. I am approaching the threshold of age; in 1977 I shall be 142.
This is no time to be flitting about the earth. I must cease from the
activities proper to youth and begin to take on the dignities and
gravities and inertia proper to that season of honorable senility which is
on its way and imminent as indicated above.
Yours is a great and memorable occasion, and as a son of Missouri I
should hold it a high privilege to be there and share your just pride in
the state's achievements; but I must deny myself the indulgence, while
thanking you earnestly for the prized honor you have done me in asking
me to be present. Very truly yours, S. L. CLEMENS.
In the foregoing Mark Twain touches upon one of his favorite fancies:
that life should begin with old age and approach strong manhood,
golden youth, to end at last with pampered and beloved babyhood.
Possibly he contemplated writing a story with this idea as the theme,
but He seems never to have done so.
The reader who has followed these letters may remember Yung Wing,
who had charge of the Chinese educational mission in Hartford, and
how Mark Twain, with Twichell, called on General Grant in behalf of
the mission. Yung Wing, now returned to China, had conceived the
idea of making an appeal to the Government of the United States for
relief of his starving countrymen.
To J. H. Twichell, in Hartford:
AMPERSAND, N. Y., July 28, '01. DEAR JOE,--As you say, it is
impracticable--in my case, certainly. For me to assist in an appeal to
that Congress of land-thieves and liars would be to bring derision upon
it; and for me to assist in an appeal for cash to pass through the hands
of those missionaries out there, of any denomination,