December 31 Wednesday – Sam’s notebook: “Saw her for 5 minutes” [NB 45 TS 36].

In Riverdale, N.Y. Sam wrote a long letter to Joe Twichell that he added to on Jan. 1, 1903. Sam headed the letter The Last day of a—in some respects—Tough Year being A.D. 1902”:

It is 10 a.m., & the post has just brought your good greeting of yesterday. Yesterday at mid-afternoon there was a memorable episode: I was in Livy’s presence 3 minutes & 50 seconds! —(the trained nurse holding the watch in her hand) for the first time in 3½ months. Livy was radiant! (And Joe, I didn’t spoil it by saying, “you poor unsuspecting thing, Jean is lying low with pneumonia these 7 days” [ )] ===End of Chapter I===

(A good deal of the rest of the week can be found in my Xmas story (Harper’s) entitled “Was it Heaven? Or Hell?” which is a true story & was written in York Harbor in August or September.)

In that story mother & daughter are ill, & the lying is attended to by a pair of aged aunts—assisted by the doctor, of course, though I suppress his share to make the story short. In this Riverdale home the liars are the doctor, Clara, & Miss Sherry (Livy’s trained nurse). Those are the regulars. I am to see Livy again to-day for 3½ minutes & it is possible that she may say “Who was it you were talking with at breakfast?—I made out a man’s voice.” (And confuse me.) (The man was the doctor; he spends his nights here with Jean, & is not due to visit Livy until noon—he lives 2 or 3 miles away.) She sent Miss Sherry down to ask that question, during breakfast. We three consulted, & sent back word it was a stranger. It will be like Livy to ask me what stranger it was. Therefore I am to go prepared with a stranger calculated to fill the bill.

Yesterday morning the doctor left here at 9 & made his rounds in Yonkers, then came back & paid Livy his usual noon visit; but this morning he had a patient or so within half a mile of here, & to save travel he thought it would be a good idea to go straight up to Livy from the breakfast table; so he sent up to say he had called in passing, & couldn’t he come up & see Livy now? Of course she said yes, & he went up. He ought to have kept his mouth shut; but some devil of injudacity moved him to say—

“Mr. Clemens says you are looking distinctly better than when he last saw you in York.” Livy was back at him instantly:

“Why—have you seen him? How did you come to see him since yesterday afternoon?” Luckily the doctor did not exhibit the joggle she had given him, but said composedly— “I ran across him in the hall a minute ago when I came in.”

So then he had to get Miss Sherry outside & arrange with her to tell me that that was how he came to know my opinion of the patient’s looks. To make doubly sure he hunted me up & told me himself; then called Clara & instructed her; for although her watch is not in the forenoon, she takes Miss Sherry’s place a little while every morning while Miss Sherry goes down & plans Livy’s feed for the day with the cook.

I am to see Livy a moment every afternoon until she has another bad night, & I stand in dread; for with all my practice I realize that in a sudden emergency I am but a poor clumsy liar, whereas a fine alert & capable emergency-liar is the only sort that is worth anything in a sick-chamber.

Now, Joe, just see what reputation can do. All Clara’s life she has told Livy the square truth & now the reward comes: Clara lies to her 3½ hours every day, & Livy tranquilly takes it all at par, whereas even when I tell her truth it isn’t worth a penny without corroboration. Jean put it cleverly during the terrible days in York:

“Clara is the only person who can tell mamma an improbable lie & get it believed.”

Clara makes many a slip, but covers it up instantly with a brilliant impromptu addition which saves the situation. Some of her feats in this kind are astonishing for swiftness & competency of invention.

Clara’s talents are worked plenty hard enough without this new call upon them—Jean. Of course we do not want Jean to know that she is in danger & that the doctor is spending his nights 30 feet from her. Yesterday at sunrise Clara carried an order from him to Jean’s nurse; & being worn & not at her brightest self, she delivered it in Jean’s hearing. At once Jean spoke up:

“What is the doctor doing here—is mamma worse?”

It brought Clara to herself, & she said—

“No. He telephoned this order late last night, & said let it go into effect at 6 or 7 this morning.”

This morning Clara forgot herself again. She was in a long hall that leads past Jean’s room, & called out to Katy about something, “take it to the doctor’s room!”

Then she flew to explain to Jean with an explanatory lie, & was happy to find that Jean was asleep & hadn’t heard. I wish Clara were not so hard driven—so that she could take a pen & put upon paper all the details of one of her afternoons in her mother’s room. Day before yesterday (Monday), for instance. We were all desperately frightened & anxious about Jean (both lungs affected, temperature 1042/5, with high pulse & blazing fever) the whole household moving aimlessly about with absent & vacant faces—& Clara sitting  miserable at heart but outwardly smiling, & telling her happy mother what good times Jean was having, coasting & carrying on out in the snow with the Dodges these splendid winter days!

Consider it. Jean was taken the evening of Dec. 22d. Ever since then Clara has had to give her mother a detailed account of Jean’s day, every afternoon; & keep Jean out of doors the most of the time; & tell how fresh she is looking; & how she doesn’t show fatigue; & dresses warmly; & is obediently careful & doesn’t get overheated—& a lot more. And then Livy goes into bursts of wonder & admiration over Clara’s faithful guardianship of Jean, & especially her marvelous tact in beguiling that wilful child to do the sane & right thing. “It is perfectly wonderful, Clara, how do you do it, you gifted little thing!” & goes on & deluges poor Clara with undeserved praises that boil her down & disintegrate her & wash her away till there is nothing left of her but a small wad of contrition & shame. And she’s always trembling, on the inside, lest her mother flash out on her & say—

“Why, Clara, you told me it was Christmas she went to the dance, now you say it was Christmas-Eve.” Clara’s invention is on the rack all the time, & in various ways. A day or two ago she had to give Mark Hamburg a headache which he hadn’t had. Her mother thought it so inhospitable not to ask him to play on the piano, & was distressed about it. (The piano is close to Jean’s room.) On Sunday she inadvertently tallied only 3 at the lunch-table: herself, John Howells, & me.

“Where was Jean?”

“Well—strictly speaking, she doesn’t count. She was in one of her thinking moods, & didn’t say a word.” On Monday—without stirring from the house—Clara did these various things: she received from her mother a list of shoppings to do in New York; put on company dress (for a lunch party); carried loving messages to the hostess (Mrs. Hapgood); went to New York; took the car to her music lesson; took a cab thence to Mrs. Hapgood’s because it was wetting & snowing; returned in a cab after the luncheon; was to be home in time for her watch (3.30); was home on time, & appeared in the sick-room with the shopping-purchases in her hands (she had sent Miss Lyon to New York for them); & sat down & told her mother all the conversation of the lunch-table; & when required to furnish the menu, did it (a thing Livy always requires)—& slipped up on one little detail: little-neck clams, or some other thing that was out of season—I think it was clams. Livy inquired sharply into that, & Clara furnished a properer dish at the same price. I wish I was the father of a hundred liars like Clara.

Joe, Livy is the happiest person you ever saw. And she has had it all to herself for a whole week. What a week! So full of comedy & pathos & tragedy!

Jean had a good night last night, & she is doing as well as in the circumstances can be expected.

Joe, don’t let those people invite me—I couldn’t go. I have canceled all engagements, & shan’t accept another for a year.

There’ll be a full report of that dinner—issued by Col. Harvey as a remembrancer—& of course he will send it to all the guests. If he should overlook you—which he won’t—let me know.

===

The episode detailed in my Xmas story happened in our York cottage 3 years ago; it was told me there by Howells, on our verandah; & I wrote it up while Livy lay prostrate in the room where that mother died— happy in the belief that her daughter was well, & not suspecting that she had been buried from the house a few days before.

With great love to all of you / Mark

Soon my brief visit is due. I’ve just been up, listening at Livy’s door. For the first time in months I heard her break into one of her girlish old-time laughs. With a word I could freeze the blood in her veins [MTP]. Note: Sam added a long P.S. at 4:30 p.m. with more examples of deception to Livy.

Harper & Brothers sent Clemens a statement dated Dec. 31 showing $9,307.80 in royalties for subscription sets, and $3,277.53 for other book royalties [1902 Financials file MTP].

Susan Crane wrote to Sam, part of which is lost.

Dear “Holy Samuel,” / Your record of Clara’s attainments in the art of lying is a most interesting production, and I hastened to town with it, that Charlie too might enjoy the story of Clara’s skill.

All the testimony in regard to mother and daughter is at least hopeful, your, Clara’s, and Miss Lyon’s, to which is added a letter from Jervis, saying that you have seen Livy, and are cheered by her improved appearance. Also that Jean passed the critical Monday night to the entire satisfaction of Dr Moffett [sic] [MTP]. Note: Dr. Henry Moffat, Yonkers

George B. Harvey wrote to Sam.

I cannot tell you how sorry I am to hear of your daughter’s illness, and I sincerely hope that by this time the worst is over.

Regarding the contracts, I shall hold myself fully at Mr. Rogers’s convenience [MTP]. Note: the contract between Harpers and Sam were to expire; Harvey was desirous of extending the company’s exclusive rights. Sam would write a short note on this letter and send it on to Rogers on Jan. 1, 1903.

Late 1902: – Sam’s piece, “The Dervish and the Offensive Stranger” was not published during Twain’s life. Budd puts it at late 1902. It first appeared in Europe and Elsewhere (1923), edited and revised by Paine. It was also included in A Pen Warmed-up in Hell: Mark Twain in Protest¸ edited by Frederick Anderson, including emendations to Paine’s version [Collected 2: 1008].

Note: Sam Clemens’ income for all of 1902 was over $100,000, including some $60,000 from book royalties [NB 46 TS 3; J. Kaplan 360].