A certain woman in town had not been invited to the wedding because there was no particular reason why she should be invited. The Langdons had ignored hints on the subject from her relatives, who had been invited. But when the wedding hour came the invited man arrived minus his wife, who was ill, and with his relative in tow. When the bride and groom had received congratulations and were still standing together she barged up and asked Uncle Sam to promenade around the room with her. Uncle Sam was rather stumped, but in his dazed condition he complied. Later on he came to, and had a lot to say on the subject in private. My mother remembers Aunt Livy standing alone. Even her sweet disposition was in danger of disintegration. ( MTBus , 108–9)

A small company of guests accompanied the bride and groom to Buffalo where Uncle Sam was to join the staff of the Buffalo Express, in which he had bought an interest. A private car was furnished to Mr. Langdon by the railroad. Uncle Sam was singing a great deal of the time:—

which does not seem particularly appropriate for a wedding trip.

Uncle Sam had already given Mr. Thomas K. Beecher a liberal fee, but on the train he went around the car and borrowed small change until he collected $1.00. This he took to Mr. Beecher and handed it to him as the wedding fee. Mr. Beecher accepted it. He said “Thank you, Mr. Clemens, if you feel that that is all it is worth I am satisfied.” Then Mr. Beecher went to Mrs. Beecher. He said: “Mrs. Beecher, until January 1st you received the salary and I had the wedding fees, but since January 1st you have had the fees and I have had the salary. Here, Mrs. Beecher, this is yours.”

There was a great secret known to everyone except Uncle Sam, my mother, and myself: Mr. Langdon had bought a house on Delaware Avenue. It was completely furnished, Aunt Livy having selected everything. It had required great caution and watchfulness to keep this from Uncle Sam. They did not let us into the secret because they felt that we might unwittingly disclose it. Then, too, Mrs. Langdon said it was so hard for them to sympathize with him in his trouble in finding a suitable boarding house that they felt it a great relief to have us there ready to condole with him. He poured out his grievances and we felt that he was very badly used. A Mr. Slee of Buffalo who was supposed to make all the arrangements had mysteriously “left town” when Uncle Sam had gone to Buffalo a few days earlier to see that all was in order.

When we reached Buffalo Mr. and Mrs. Langdon, my mother and I were hurried to a carriage and rushed, as we supposed, to the Tifft House, where the rest of the party was gathering. Although there was no longer any point in keeping the secret, they forgot to tell us, and we were so much surprised to be taken to this beautiful house that it was a long time before we could understand it.

In the meantime, to give us plenty of time, the rest of the party were placed in carriages and sent to the Hotel. Uncle Sam could not restrain his indignation. He said he never knew anything so badly managed in his life. The idea of keeping the Bride and Groom to the very last! When the Bride and Groom arrived the four of us were in the hall ready to greet them. Uncle Sam was so overwhelmed that it seemed impossible for him to understand; he kept asking for “Mrs. Howells,” a fictitious name given him as the keeper of the boarding house. The next morning the rest of the party came. They ran all over exclaiming at the beauty of the drawing-room, all in a lovely shade of blue, the coziness of dining room and library, and so on. Mr. Beecher lay down on the floor and rolled over and over. Mrs. Beecher exclaimed “What are you doing, Mr. Beecher?” He said, “I am trying to take the feather edge off.” At last all gathered in the drawing-room. Mrs. Beecher insisted we must all sing together “Heaven is my Home.” She said they would never remember it, in that charming house, unless we sang this. (MTBus, 109–10)

The Wedding of “Mark Twain.”

Samuel L. Clemens, more widely known as “Mark Twain,” was married on the evening of the 2d inst. to Miss Olivia L. Langdon, daughter of Jervis Langdon, Esq., of Elmira, N.Y. The ceremony was performed by the Rev. Thos. K. Beecher, of that city, assisted by the Rev. Joseph E. Twichell, of Hartford, Ct. There was no “Jenkins” [Winifred Jenkins, the gossipy maid in Smollett’s Humphry Clinker] among the guests to give publicity to all the pretty detail of the occasion. Suffice it that the sweet-faced girl who that evening hid her blushes in the folds of her bridal veil, has been reared in a household whose very atmosphere is love and refinement, and the humorous author, with all his rapidly increasing popularity, has received no endorsement which can compare with the cordial surrender of this treasure to his keeping.

The quiet, impressive ceremony with all its beautiful appointments is sacred to the few who witnessed it, but “Mark Twain” belongs to the public which has a right to know that he filled the role of bridegroom with charming grace and dignity.

Through the politeness of the President of the Pennsylvania Northern Central road [unidentified], a Director’s car was sent on from Baltimore and placed at Mr. Langdon’s disposal, while the Superintendent of the N.Y. Central [James Tillinghast] supplemented the complimentary arrangement, by orders for its conveyance to Buffalo. The wedding party, including a number of invited guests, proceeded to Buffalo on Thursday, Mark arrogating to himself a considerable amount of artificial dignity in consequence of his new position, and the magnificence of his “trousseau” to which he attached much importance.

Here comes in a delicious bit of romance, which as a reporter we have no right to give, but which, holding it too good to keep, we venture to share with the friends of Mark Twain in this city.

It had been arranged that Mr. and Mrs. Clemens should proceed at once to their boarding house, on arriving in the city, while the rest of the party were to be domiciled at the “Tifft House.” The securing of a desirable, genteel home in a private family, had been delegated to an intimate friend and resident of Buffalo, who understanding the tastes and requirements of the young couple would of course be the best person to make for them judicious arrangements. Mr. Clemens, having been absent on his lecturing tour for the past few months, accepted the assurance that everything had been attended to. At the depot hearty “good nights” were exchanged, the larger party driving to the hotel, the bride and groom taking carriage for more quiet quarters. Stopping in front of a modest but very attractive brick house in the upper part of Delaware street, Mr. Clemens was somewhat surprised to be met in the hall by the father and mother of the bride and his own sister, whom he supposed already quartered at the hotel. The landlady of the house suddenly disappeared from the scene, and as leaf by leaf of the charming little drama unfolded, Mark Twain found himself the victim of what he termed “a first class swindle,” the proprietors and abettors of which were the delighted father and mother, who stood there silent spectators of the happiness they had prepared for their children in the gift of this beautiful home. For once the fun-loving Mark failed in rapartee, and moistened eyes spoke deeper thanks than words.

Nothing that love or wealth could suggest or supply was wanting to make the scene the fulfillment of the poet’s dream, from the delicate blue satin drawing room to the little sanctum quite apart, with its scarlet upholstery, amid the pretty adornments of which inspiration must often come to its happy occupant.

Long life and happy days to our young friends, whose morning sky gives such rosy promise.

Mark Twain, for once, according to all accounts, was nonplussed, when he reached Buffalo, the other day, to enter upon his newly wedded life. Rev. Mr. Ball [evidently A. M. Ball, a former minister at Congregational Church in Elmira] had been delegated to act as master of ceremonies and receive the wedding party on their arrival in that city. He managed his part well. The friends and relatives who made up the escort of the bridal train from this city, upon arriving at the Buffalo depot, and not finding Mr. Ball present, at once took carriages, it was supposed, for the Tifft House. After they had gone some time on their way, belated Mr. Ball (a little justifiable ruse practised to carry out the illusion more apparently,) suddenly appeared on the scene, and with many profuse apologies explained his delay to Mark, who, not yet seeing the point, did not quite relish stopping so long in a depot, when elegant quarters were waiting his immediate possession elsewhere. His feelings were quieted, and the carriage soon drove the party to an elegant mansion—Mark’s conjectured boarding house—on Delaware Avenue. He remarked that there was a general illumination about the premises, as if the inmates were glad to see their guests, rang the front door-bell, and was met by his father-in-law and sister, who, with the rest of the party, who had not gone to the Tifft House, stood ready to welcome the new owners to a completely furnished and beautiful new home. Mark was more abashed than ever, could say nothing, but to pronounce the whole affair a “first class swindle.” The gift house was found complete in all its appointments—tasteful boudoirs, a perfect little gem of a study, pretty bed chambers, green, blue and crimson apartments.

I remember one circumstance of bygone times with great vividness. I arrived here after dark on a February evening in 1870 with my wife and a large company of friends, when I had been a husband twenty-four hours, and they put us two in a covered sleigh, and drove us up and down and every which way, through all the back streets in Buffalo, until at last I got ashamed, and said, ‘I asked Mr. Slee to get me a cheap boarding house, but I didn’t mean that he should stretch economy to the going outside the state to find it.’ The fact was there was a practical joke to the fore which I didn’t know anything about, and all this fooling around was to give it time to mature. My father-in-law, the late Jervis Langdon, whom many of you will remember, had been clandestinely spending a fair fortune upon a house and furniture in Delaware avenue for us, and had kept his secret so well that I was the only person this side of Niagara Falls that hadn’t found it out. We reached the house at last, about 10 o’clock, and were introduced to a Mrs. Johnson, the ostensible landlady. I took a glance around and then my opinion of Mr. Slee’s judgment as a provider of cheap boarding houses for men who had to work for their living dropped to zero. I told Mrs. Johnson there had been an unfortunate mistake. Mr. Slee had evidently supposed I had money, whereas I only had talent; and so, by her leave, we would abide with her a week, and then she could keep my trunk and we would hunt another place. Then the battalion of ambushed friends and relatives burst in on us, out of closets and from behind curtains, the property was delivered over to us and the joke revealed, accompanied with much hilarity. Such jokes as these are all too scarce in a person’s life. That was a really admirable joke, for that house was so completely equipped in every detail—even to house servants and coachman—that there was nothing to do but just sit down and live in it. (“Twain and Cable,” Buffalo Courier, 11 Dec 84, 4)