Twain in His Own Time: A Biographical Chronicle of His Life, Drawn from Recollections, Interviews, and Memoirs by Family, Friends, and Associates

“Mark Twain as His Secretary at Stormfield Remembers Him” (1925)

[318] === Mary Louise Howden immigrated from England in 1908. She alludes in her memoir to the burglary at Stormfield in September 1908 shortly before she went to work for Twain as a stenographer. “Mark Twain as His Secretary at Stormfield Remembers Him” (1925) Mary Louise Howden all the way up the hill to Stormfield it seemed as if the rustling of meadow grass, the roar of the waterfall down in the hollow, the twittering of the birds and the shrilling of the locusts were drowned out by the persistent beating of her much perturbed heart. The butler1 opened the front door and directed her to go to the study. Mr. Clemens, he said, would be down in about fifteen minutes. The Neophyte put her hat and sweater in the place indicated. She selected a notebook and sharpened a couple of pencils with meticulous care. Then, hardly knowing what she was doing, she took the cover off the typewriter and began mechanically to clean it, although it was in perfect order and never had been used. A measured tread sounded in the hall outside and the trembling Neophyte rose to her feet. All her life she had been familiar with pictures of her new employer. But no picture, it seemed to her, had ever done justice to the picturesqueness of the figure who appeared in the doorway—the mane of snow white hair, the white suit against the dark background of the hall, the busy eyebrows that gave to the deepest blue eyes a look of fierceness that was belied by the humorous curves of the mouth under the drooping mustache . But there was something else. Mr. Clemens was not a very tall man, yet there was a dignity, a majesty about the figure in the doorway that no picture has ever succeeded in reproducing. For the rest he was ruddy featured , spare and rather rugged of frame—not a superfluous ounce of flesh on him in spite of his seventy-two years—and he was regarding the flus- [319] tered Neophyte with an expression that was quite kindly. Maybe he wasn’t so very terrible after all! He shook hands gravely and inquired the Neophyte’s name. It was given him. He requested to have it written for him. This was done, and he frowned over it while the Neophyte shook. Then he waved the paper on one side and said abruptly: “You take notes—in shorthand?” The Neophyte admitted that she did. “Good,” he said, his face clearing. “I would like to dictate right now.” As the Neophyte sat down and opened her notebook he walked over to the window and stood there. Minutes passed, but no sound came from him. The Neophyte ventured a look. He was standing gazing dreamily out, puffing little clouds from his pipe. Presently he turned and said: “You’ve heard of our burglary?” She had—first from the driver coming up from the station; and it had been the mainstay of the conversation at the farmhouse supper the night before. “Very well,” said the humorist. “Now, take this,” and he dictated the following: NOTICE To the Next Burglar There is nothing but plated ware in this house now and henceforth. You will find it in the brass thing in the dining room over in the corner by the basket of kittens. If you want the basket put the kittens in the brass thing. Do not make a noise; it will disturb the family. You will find rubbers in the front hall by that thing which has the umbrellas in it—chiffonier, I think they call it, or pergola, or something like that. Please close the door when you go away! Very truly yours, S. L. CLEMENS. Who would take down a thing like that and not want to laugh? The Neophyte ’s shoulders were shaking, but she dared not make a sound. She stole another glance at him. He was still gazing out of the window, not a smile on his face, and speaking in a rather deliberate drawl. Once or twice he took a restless turn or two away from the window, but always returned to it again as if the little study were too restricted for him, as indeed it was. After the first morning he rarely dictated in the study, as there was not enough room to pace up and down, as he liked to do. He finished the “notice,” gave some directions for its typing and its fuMary...