diff options
Diffstat (limited to '3196-h/3196-h.htm')
| -rw-r--r-- | 3196-h/3196-h.htm | 11722 |
1 files changed, 11722 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/3196-h/3196-h.htm b/3196-h/3196-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..568f638 --- /dev/null +++ b/3196-h/3196-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11722 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Mark Twain's Letters 1886-1900, by Mark Twain + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd7; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Letters Of Mark Twain, Volume 4, +1886-1900, by Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Letters Of Mark Twain, Volume 4, 1886-1900 + +Author: Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) + +Release Date: August 21, 2006 [EBook #3196] +Last Updated: February 24, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TWAIN LETTERS, VOL. 4 *** + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + <h1> + MARK TWAIN'S LETTERS 1886-1900 + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + VOLUME IV. + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Mark Twain + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h3> + ARRANGED WITH COMMENT<br /> BY ALBERT BIGELOW PAINE + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary=""> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>XXVI.</b><br /> LETTERS, 1886-87. JANE + CLEMENS'S ROMANCE. UNMAILED LETTERS, ETC. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>XXVII.</b><br /> MISCELLANEOUS LETTERS + OF 1887. LITERARY ARTICLES. PEACEFUL DAYS AT THE FARM. FAVORITE + READING. APOLOGY TO MRS. CLEVELAND, ETC. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> <b>XXVIII.</b><br /> LETTERS,1888. A YALE + DEGREE. WORK ON “THE YANKEE.” ON INTERVIEWING, ETC. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> <b>XXIX.</b><br /> LETTERS, 1889. THE + MACHINE. DEATH OF MR. CRANE. CONCLUSION OF THE YANKEE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> <b>XXX.</b><br /> LETTERS, 1890, CHIEFLY TO + JOS. T. GOODMAN. THE GREAT MACHINE ENTERPRISE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> <b>XXXI.</b><br /> LETTERS, 1891, TO + HOWELLS, MRS. CLEMENS AND OTHERS. RETURN TO LITERATURE. AMERICAN + CLAIMANT. LEAVING HARTFORD. EUROPE. DOWN THE RHINE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> <b>XXXII.</b><br /> LETTERS, 1892, CHIEFLY + TO MR. HALL AND MRS. CRANE. IN BERLIN, MENTONE, BAD-NAUHEIM, + FLORENCE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> <b>XXXIII.</b><br /> LETTERS, 1893, TO MR. + HALL, MRS. CLEMENS, AND OTHERS. FLORENCE. BUSINESS TROUBLES. + “PUDD'NHEAD WILSON.” “JOAN OF ARC.” AT THE PLAYERS, NEW </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> <b>XXXIV.</b><br /> LETTERS 1894. A WINTER + IN NEW YORK. BUSINESS FAILURE. END OF THE MACHINE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> <b>XXXV.</b><br /> LETTERS, 1895-96, TO H. + H. ROGERS AND OTHERS. FINISHING “JOAN OF ARC.” THE TRIP AROUND THE + WORLD. DEATH OF SUSY CLEMENS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> <b>XXXVI.</b><br /> LETTERS 1897. LONDON, + SWITZERLAND, VIENNA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> <b>XXXVII.</b><br /> LETTERS, 1898, TO + HOWELLS AND TWICHELL. LIFE IN VIENNA. PAYMENT OF THE DEBTS. + ASSASSINATION OF THE EMPRESS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> <b>XXXVIII.</b><br /> LETTERS, 1899, TO + HOWELLS AND OTHERS. VIENNA. LONDON. A SUMMER IN SWEDEN. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> <b>XXXIX.</b><br /> LETTERS OF 1900, MAINLY + TO TWICHELL. THE BOER WAR. BOXER TROUBLES. THE RETURN TO AMERICA. + </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + XXVI. LETTERS, 1886-87. JANE CLEMENS'S ROMANCE. UNMAILED LETTERS, ETC. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When Clemens had been platforming with Cable and returned to + Hartford for his Christmas vacation, the Warner and Clemens families + had joined in preparing for him a surprise performance of The Prince + and the Pauper. The Clemens household was always given to + theatricals, and it was about this time that scenery and a stage + were prepared—mainly by the sculptor Gerhardt—for these home + performances, after which productions of The Prince and the Pauper + were given with considerable regularity to audiences consisting of + parents and invited friends. The subject is a fascinating one, but + it has been dwelt upon elsewhere.—[In Mark Twain: A on***n, + chaps. cliii and clx.]—We get a glimpse of one of these occasions + as well as of Mark Twain's financial progress in the next brief +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To W. D. Howells; in Boston: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Jan. 3, '86. +</pre> + <p> + MY DEAR HOWELLS,—The date set for the Prince and Pauper play is ten + days hence—Jan. 13. I hope you and Pilla can take a train that + arrives here during the day; the one that leaves Boston toward the end of + the afternoon would be a trifle late; the performance would have already + begun when you reached the house. + </p> + <p> + I'm out of the woods. On the last day of the year I had paid out $182,000 + on the Grant book and it was totally free from debt. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yrs ever + + MARK. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mark Twain's mother was a woman of sturdy character and with a keen + sense of humor and tender sympathies. Her husband, John Marshall + Clemens, had been a man of high moral character, honored by all who + knew him, respected and apparently loved by his wife. No one would + ever have supposed that during all her years of marriage, and almost + to her death, she carried a secret romance that would only be told + at last in the weary disappointment of old age. It is a curious + story, and it came to light in this curious way: +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To W. D. Howells, in Boston: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HARTFORD, May 19, '86. +</pre> + <p> + MY DEAR HOWELLS,—..... Here's a secret. A most curious and pathetic + romance, which has just come to light. Read these things, but don't + mention them. Last fall, my old mother—then 82—took a notion + to attend a convention of old settlers of the Mississippi Valley in an + Iowa town. My brother's wife was astonished; and represented to her the + hardships and fatigues of such a trip, and said my mother might possibly + not even survive them; and said there could be no possible interest for + her in such a meeting and such a crowd. But my mother insisted, and + persisted; and finally gained her point. They started; and all the way my + mother was young again with excitement, interest, eagerness, anticipation. + They reached the town and the hotel. My mother strode with the same + eagerness in her eye and her step, to the counter, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Is Dr. Barrett of St. Louis, here?” + </p> + <p> + “No. He was here, but he returned to St. Louis this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Will he come again?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + My mother turned away, the fire all gone from her, and said, “Let us go + home.” + </p> + <p> + They went straight back to Keokuk. My mother sat silent and thinking for + many days—a thing which had never happened before. Then one day she + said: + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you a secret. When I was eighteen, a young medical student + named Barrett lived in Columbia (Ky.) eighteen miles away; and he used to + ride over to see me. This continued for some time. I loved him with my + whole heart, and I knew that he felt the same toward me, though no words + had been spoken. He was too bashful to speak—he could not do it. + Everybody supposed we were engaged—took it for granted we were—but + we were not. By and by there was to be a party in a neighboring town, and + he wrote my uncle telling him his feelings, and asking him to drive me + over in his buggy and let him (Barrett) drive me back, so that he might + have that opportunity to propose. My uncle should have done as he was + asked, without explaining anything to me; but instead, he read me the + letter; and then, of course, I could not go—and did not. He + (Barrett) left the country presently, and I, to stop the clacking tongues, + and to show him that I did not care, married, in a pet. In all these + sixty-four years I have not seen him since. I saw in a paper that he was + going to attend that Old Settlers' Convention. Only three hours before we + reached that hotel, he had been standing there!” + </p> + <p> + Since then, her memory is wholly faded out and gone; and now she writes + letters to the school-mates who had been dead forty years, and wonders why + they neglect her and do not answer. + </p> + <p> + Think of her carrying that pathetic burden in her old heart sixty-four + years, and no human being ever suspecting it! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yrs ever, + + MARK. + + We do not get the idea from this letter that those two long + ago sweethearts quarreled, but Mark Twain once spoke of + their having done so, and there may have been a + disagreement, assuming that there was a subsequent meeting. + It does not matter, now. In speaking of it, Mark Twain once + said: “It is as pathetic a romance as any that has crossed + the field of my personal experience in a long lifetime.”— + [When Mark Twain: A Biography was written this letter had + not come to light, and the matter was stated there in + accordance with Mark Twain's latest memory of it.] + + Howells wrote: “After all, how poor and hackneyed all the + inventions are compared with the simple and stately facts. + Who could have imagined such a heart-break as that? Yet it + went along with the fulfillment of everyday duty and made no + more noise than a grave under foot. I doubt if fiction will + ever get the knack of such things.” + + Jane Clemens now lived with her son Orion and his wife, in + Keokuk, where she was more contented than elsewhere. In + these later days her memory had become erratic, her + realization of events about her uncertain, but there were + times when she was quite her former self, remembering + clearly and talking with her old-time gaiety of spirit. + Mark Twain frequently sent her playful letters to amuse her, + letters full of such boyish gaiety as had amused her long + years before. The one that follows is a fair example. It + was written after a visit which Clemens and his family had + paid to Keokuk. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Jane Clemens, in Keokuk: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ELMIRA, Aug. 7, '86. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MA,—I heard that Molly and Orion and Pamela had been sick, but + I see by your letter that they are much better now, or nearly well. When + we visited you a month ago, it seemed to us that your Keokuk weather was + pretty hot; Jean and Clara sat up in bed at Mrs. McElroy's and cried about + it, and so did I; but I judge by your letter that it has cooled down, now, + so that a person is comparatively comfortable, with his skin off. Well it + did need cooling; I remember that I burnt a hole in my shirt, there, with + some ice cream that fell on it; and Miss Jenkins told me they never used a + stove, but cooked their meals on a marble-topped table in the + drawing-room, just with the natural heat. If anybody else had told me, I + would not have believed it. I was told by the Bishop of Keokuk that he did + not allow crying at funerals, because it scalded the furniture. If Miss + Jenkins had told me that, I would have believed it. This reminds me that + you speak of Dr. Jenkins and his family as if they were strangers to me. + Indeed they are not. Don't you suppose I remember gratefully how tender + the doctor was with Jean when she hurt her arm, and how quickly he got the + pain out of the hurt, whereas I supposed it was going to last at least an + hour? No, I don't forget some things as easily as I do others. + </p> + <p> + Yes, it was pretty hot weather. Now here, when a person is going to die, + he is always in a sweat about where he is going to; but in Keokuk of + course they don't care, because they are fixed for everything. It has set + me reflecting, it has taught me a lesson. By and by, when my health fails, + I am going to put all my affairs in order, and bid good-bye to my friends + here, and kill all the people I don't like, and go out to Keokuk and + prepare for death. + </p> + <p> + They are all well in this family, and we all send love. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Affly Your Son + SAM. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The ways of city officials and corporations are often past + understanding, and Mark Twain sometimes found it necessary to write + picturesque letters of protest. The following to a Hartford + lighting company is a fair example of these documents. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To a gas and electric-lighting company, in Hartford: + </p> + <p> + GENTLEMEN,—There are but two places in our whole street where lights + could be of any value, by any accident, and you have measured and + appointed your intervals so ingeniously as to leave each of those places + in the centre of a couple of hundred yards of solid darkness. When I + noticed that you were setting one of your lights in such a way that I + could almost see how to get into my gate at night, I suspected that it was + a piece of carelessness on the part of the workmen, and would be corrected + as soon as you should go around inspecting and find it out. My judgment + was right; it is always right, when you axe concerned. For fifteen years, + in spite of my prayers and tears, you persistently kept a gas lamp exactly + half way between my gates, so that I couldn't find either of them after + dark; and then furnished such execrable gas that I had to hang a danger + signal on the lamp post to keep teams from running into it, nights. Now I + suppose your present idea is, to leave us a little more in the dark. + </p> + <p> + Don't mind us—out our way; we possess but one vote apiece, and no + rights which you are in any way bound to respect. Please take your + electric light and go to—but never mind, it is not for me to + suggest; you will probably find the way; and any way you can reasonably + count on divine assistance if you lose your bearings. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> + <div class="mynote"> + <p> + [Etext Editor's Note: Twain wrote another note to Hartford Gas and + Electric, which he may not have mailed and which Paine does not include + in these volumes:<br /><br /> “Gentleman:—Someday you are going to + move me almost to the point of irritation with your God-damned chuckle + headed fashion of turning off your God-damned gas without giving notice + to your God-damned parishioners—and you did it again last night—” + D.W.] + </p> + <br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Frequently Clemens did not send letters of this sort after they were + written. Sometimes he realized the uselessness of such protest, + sometimes the mere writing of them had furnished the necessary + relief, and he put, the letter away, or into the wastebasket, and + wrote something more temperate, or nothing at all. A few such + letters here follow. + + Clemens was all the time receiving application from people who + wished him to recommend one article or another; books, plays, + tobacco, and what not. They were generally persistent people, + unable to accept a polite or kindly denial. Once he set down some + remarks on this particular phase of correspondence. He wrote: +</pre> + <p> + I + </p> + <p> + No doubt Mr. Edison has been offered a large interest in many and many an + electrical project, for the use of his name to float it withal. And no + doubt all men who have achieved for their names, in any line of activity + whatever, a sure market value, have been familiar with this sort of + solicitation. Reputation is a hall-mark: it can remove doubt from pure + silver, and it can also make the plated article pass for pure. + </p> + <p> + And so, people without a hall-mark of their own are always trying to get + the loan of somebody else's. + </p> + <p> + As a rule, that kind of a person sees only one side of the case. He sees + that his invention or his painting or his book is—apparently—a + trifle better than you yourself can do, therefore why shouldn't you be + willing to put your hall-mark on it? You will be giving the purchaser his + full money's worth; so who is hurt, and where is the harm? Besides, are + you not helping a struggling fellow-craftsman, and is it not your duty to + do that? + </p> + <p> + That side is plenty clear enough to him, but he can't and won't see the + other side, to-wit: that you are a rascal if you put your hall-mark upon a + thing which you did not produce yourself, howsoever good it may be. How + simple that is; and yet there are not two applicants in a hundred who can, + be made to see it. + </p> + <p> + When one receives an application of this sort, his first emotion is an + indignant sense of insult; his first deed is the penning of a sharp + answer. He blames nobody but that other person. That person is a very base + being; he must be; he would degrade himself for money, otherwise it would + not occur to him that you would do such a thing. But all the same, that + application has done its work, and taken you down in your own estimation. + You recognize that everybody hasn't as high an opinion of you as you have + of yourself; and in spite of you there ensues an interval during which you + are not, in your own estimation as fine a bird as you were before. + </p> + <p> + However, being old and experienced, you do not mail your sharp letter, but + leave it lying a day. That saves you. For by that time you have begun to + reflect that you are a person who deals in exaggerations—and + exaggerations are lies. You meant yours to be playful, and thought you + made them unmistakably so. But you couldn't make them playfulnesses to a + man who has no sense of the playful and can see nothing but the serious + side of things. You rattle on quite playfully, and with measureless + extravagance, about how you wept at the tomb of Adam; and all in good time + you find to your astonishment that no end of people took you at your word + and believed you. And presently they find out that you were not in + earnest. They have been deceived; therefore, (as they argue—and + there is a sort of argument in it,) you are a deceiver. If you will + deceive in one way, why shouldn't you in another? So they apply for the + use of your trade-mark. You are amazed and affronted. You retort that you + are not that kind of person. Then they are amazed and affronted; and + wonder “since when?” + </p> + <p> + By this time you have got your bearings. You realize that perhaps there is + a little blame on both sides. You are in the right frame, now. So you + write a letter void of offense, declining. You mail this one; you + pigeon-hole the other. + </p> + <p> + That is, being old and experienced, you do, but early in your career, you + don't: you mail the first one. + </p> + <p> + II + </p> + <p> + An enthusiast who had a new system of musical notation, wrote to me and + suggested that a magazine article from me, contrasting the absurdities of + the old system with the simplicities of his new one, would be sure to make + a “rousing hit.” He shouted and shouted over the marvels wrought by his + system, and quoted the handsome compliments which had been paid it by + famous musical people; but he forgot to tell me what his notation was + like, or what its simplicities consisted in. So I could not have written + the article if I had wanted to—which I didn't; because I hate + strangers with axes to grind. I wrote him a courteous note explaining how + busy I was—I always explain how busy I am—and casually drooped + this remark: + </p> + <p> + “I judge the X-X notation to be a rational mode of representing music, in + place of the prevailing fashion, which was the invention of an idiot.” + </p> + <p> + Next mail he asked permission to print that meaningless remark. I + answered, no—courteously, but still, no; explaining that I could not + afford to be placed in the attitude of trying to influence people with a + mere worthless guess. What a scorcher I got, next mail! Such irony! such + sarcasm, such caustic praise of my superhonorable loyalty to the public! + And withal, such compassion for my stupidity, too, in not being able to + understand my own language. I cannot remember the words of this letter + broadside, but there was about a page used up in turning this idea round + and round and exposing it in different lights. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Unmailed Answer: +</pre> + <p> + DEAR SIR,—What is the trouble with you? If it is your viscera, you + cannot have them taken out and reorganized a moment too soon. I mean, if + they are inside. But if you are composed of them, that is another matter. + Is it your brain? But it could not be your brain. Possibly it is your + skull: you want to look out for that. Some people, when they get an idea, + it pries the structure apart. Your system of notation has got in there, + and couldn't find room, without a doubt that is what the trouble is. Your + skull was not made to put ideas in, it was made to throw potatoes at. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yours Truly. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mailed Answer: +</pre> + <p> + DEAR SIR,—Come, come—take a walk; you disturb the children. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yours Truly. +</pre> + <p> + There was a day, now happily nearly over, when certain newspapers made a + practice of inviting men distinguished in any walk of life to give their + time and effort without charge to express themselves on some subject of + the day, or perhaps they were asked to send their favorite passages in + prose or verse, with the reasons why. Such symposiums were “features” that + cost the newspapers only the writing of a number of letters, stationery, + and postage. To one such invitation Mark Twain wrote two replies. They + follow herewith: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Unmailed Answer: +</pre> + <p> + DEAR SIR,—I have received your proposition—which you have + imitated from a pauper London periodical which had previously imitated the + idea of this sort of mendicancy from seventh-rate American journalism, + where it originated as a variation of the inexpensive “interview.” + </p> + <p> + Why do you buy Associated Press dispatches? To make your paper the more + salable, you answer. But why don't you try to beg them? Why do you + discriminate? I can sell my stuff; why should I give it to you? Why don't + you ask me for a shirt? What is the difference between asking me for the + worth of a shirt and asking me for the shirt itself? Perhaps you didn't + know you were begging. I would not use that argument—it makes the + user a fool. The passage of poetry—or prose, if you will—which + has taken deepest root in my thought, and which I oftenest return to and + dwell upon with keenest no matter what, is this: That the proper place for + journalists who solicit literary charity is on the street corner with + their hats in their hands. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mailed Answer: +</pre> + <p> + DEAR SIR,—Your favor of recent date is received, but I am obliged by + press of work to decline. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The manager of a traveling theatrical company wrote that he had + taken the liberty of dramatizing Tom Sawyer, and would like also the + use of the author's name—the idea being to convey to the public + that it was a Mark Twain play. In return for this slight favor the + manager sent an invitation for Mark Twain to come and see the play + —to be present on the opening night, as it were, at his (the + manager's) expense. He added that if the play should be a go in the + cities there might be some “arrangement” of profits. Apparently + these inducements did not appeal to Mark Twain. The long unmailed + reply is the more interesting, but probably the briefer one that + follows it was quite as effective. + + Unmailed Answer: + + HARTFORD, Sept. 8, '87. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR SIR,—And so it has got around to you, at last; and you also + have “taken the liberty.” You are No. 1365. When 1364 sweeter and better + people, including the author, have “tried” to dramatize Tom Sawyer and did + not arrive, what sort of show do you suppose you stand? That is a book, + dear sir, which cannot be dramatized. One might as well try to dramatize + any other hymn. Tom Sawyer is simply a hymn, put into prose form to give + it a worldly air. + </p> + <p> + Why the pale doubt that flitteth dim and nebulous athwart the forecastle + of your third sentence? Have no fears. Your piece will be a Go. It will go + out the back door on the first night. They've all done it—the 1364. + So will 1365. Not one of us ever thought of the simple device of + half-soling himself with a stove-lid. Ah, what suffering a little + hindsight would have saved us. Treasure this hint. + </p> + <p> + How kind of you to invite me to the funeral. Go to; I have attended a + thousand of them. I have seen Tom Sawyer's remains in all the different + kinds of dramatic shrouds there are. You cannot start anything fresh. Are + you serious when you propose to pay my expence—if that is the + Susquehannian way of spelling it? And can you be aware that I charge a + hundred dollars a mile when I travel for pleasure? Do you realize that it + is 432 miles to Susquehanna? Would it be handy for you to send me the + $43,200 first, so I could be counting it as I come along; because + railroading is pretty dreary to a sensitive nature when there's nothing + sordid to buck at for Zeitvertreib. + </p> + <p> + Now as I understand it, dear and magnanimous 1365, you are going to + recreate Tom Sawyer dramatically, and then do me the compliment to put me + in the bills as father of this shady offspring. Sir, do you know that this + kind of a compliment has destroyed people before now? Listen. + </p> + <p> + Twenty-four years ago, I was strangely handsome. The remains of it are + still visible through the rifts of time. I was so handsome that human + activities ceased as if spellbound when I came in view, and even inanimate + things stopped to look—like locomotives, and district messenger boys + and so-on. In San Francisco, in the rainy season I was often mistaken for + fair weather. Upon one occasion I was traveling in the Sonora region, and + stopped for an hour's nooning, to rest my horse and myself. All the town + came out to look. The tribes of Indians gathered to look. A Piute squaw + named her baby for me,—a voluntary compliment which pleased me + greatly. Other attentions were paid me. Last of all arrived the president + and faculty of Sonora University and offered me the post of Professor of + Moral Culture and the Dogmatic Humanities; which I accepted gratefully, + and entered at once upon my duties. But my name had pleased the Indians, + and in the deadly kindness of their hearts they went on naming their + babies after me. I tried to stop it, but the Indians could not understand + why I should object to so manifest a compliment. The thing grew and grew + and spread and spread and became exceedingly embarrassing. The University + stood it a couple of years; but then for the sake of the college they felt + obliged to call a halt, although I had the sympathy of the whole faculty. + The president himself said to me, “I am as sorry as I can be for you, and + would still hold out if there were any hope ahead; but you see how it is: + there are a hundred and thirty-two of them already, and fourteen precincts + to hear from. The circumstance has brought your name into most wide and + unfortunate renown. It causes much comment—I believe that that is + not an over-statement. Some of this comment is palliative, but some of it—by + patrons at a distance, who only know the statistics without the + explanation,—is offensive, and in some cases even violent. Nine + students have been called home. The trustees of the college have been + growing more and more uneasy all these last months—steadily along + with the implacable increase in your census—and I will not conceal + from you that more than once they have touched upon the expediency of a + change in the Professorship of Moral Culture. The coarsely sarcastic + editorial in yesterday's Alta, headed Give the Moral Acrobat a Rest—has + brought things to a crisis, and I am charged with the unpleasant duty of + receiving your resignation.” + </p> + <p> + I know you only mean me a kindness, dear 1365, but it is a most deadly + mistake. Please do not name your Injun for me. Truly Yours. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mailed Answer: +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + NEW YORK, Sept. 8. 1887. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR SIR,—Necessarily I cannot assent to so strange a proposition. + And I think it but fair to warn you that if you put the piece on the + stage, you must take the legal consequences. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yours respectfully, + + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Before the days of international copyright no American author's + books were pirated more freely by Canadian publishers than those of + Mark Twain. It was always a sore point with him that these books, + cheaply printed, found their way into the United States, and were + sold in competition with his better editions. The law on the + subject seemed to be rather hazy, and its various interpretations + exasperating. In the next unmailed letter Mark Twain relieves + himself to a misguided official. The letter is worth reading today, + if for no other reason, to show the absurdity of copyright + conditions which prevailed at that time. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Unmailed Letter to H. C. Christiancy, on book Piracy: + + HARTFORD, Dec. 18, '87. +</pre> + <p> + H. C. CHRISTIANCY, ESQ. + </p> + <p> + DEAR SIR,—As I understand it, the position of the U. S. Government + is this: If a person be captured on the border with counterfeit bonds in + his hands—bonds of the N. Y. Central Railway, for instance—the + procedure in his case shall be as follows: + </p> + <p> + 1. If the N. Y. C. have not previously filed in the several police offices + along the border, proof of ownership of the originals of the bonds, the + government officials must collect a duty on the counterfeits, and then let + them go ahead and circulate in this country. + </p> + <p> + 2. But if there is proof already on file, then the N. Y. C. may pay the + duty and take the counterfeits. + </p> + <p> + But in no case will the United States consent to go without its share of + the swag. It is delicious. The biggest and proudest government on earth + turned sneak-thief; collecting pennies on stolen property, and pocketing + them with a greasy and libidinous leer; going into partnership with + foreign thieves to rob its own children; and when the child escapes the + foreigner, descending to the abysmal baseness of hanging on and robbing + the infant all alone by itself! Dear sir, this is not any more respectable + than for a father to collect toll on the forced prostitution of his own + daughter; in fact it is the same thing. Upon these terms, what is a U. S. + custom house but a “fence?” That is all it is: a legalized trader in + stolen goods. + </p> + <p> + And this nasty law, this filthy law, this unspeakable law calls itself a + “regulation for the protection of owners of copyright!” Can sarcasm go + further than that? In what way does it protect them? Inspiration itself + could not furnish a rational answer to that question. Whom does it + protect, then? Nobody, as far as I can see, but the foreign thief—sometimes—and + his fellow-footpad the U. S. government, all the time. What could the + Central Company do with the counterfeit bonds after it had bought them of + the star spangled banner Master-thief? Sell them at a dollar apiece and + fetch down the market for the genuine hundred-dollar bond? What could I do + with that 20-cent copy of “Roughing It” which the United States has + collared on the border and is waiting to release to me for cash in case I + am willing to come down to its moral level and help rob myself? Sell it at + ten or fifteen cents—duty added—and destroy the market for the + original $3,50 book? Who ever did invent that law? I would like to know + the name of that immortal jackass. + </p> + <p> + Dear sir, I appreciate your courtesy in stretching your authority in the + desire to do me a kindness, and I sincerely thank you for it. But I have + no use for that book; and if I were even starving for it I would not pay + duty on in either to get it or suppress it. No doubt there are ways in + which I might consent to go into partnership with thieves and fences, but + this is not one of them. This one revolts the remains of my self-respect; + turns my stomach. I think I could companion with a highwayman who carried + a shot-gun and took many risks; yes, I think I should like that if I were + younger; but to go in with a big rich government that robs paupers, and + the widows and orphans of paupers and takes no risk—why the thought + just gags me. + </p> + <p> + Oh, no, I shall never pay any duties on pirated books of mine. I am much + too respectable for that—yet awhile. But here—one thing that + grovels me is this: as far as I can discover—while freely granting + that the U. S. copyright laws are far and away the most idiotic that exist + anywhere on the face of the earth—they don't authorize the + government to admit pirated books into this country, toll or no toll. And + so I think that that regulation is the invention of one of those people—as + a rule, early stricken of God, intellectually—the departmental + interpreters of the laws, in Washington. They can always be depended on to + take any reasonably good law and interpret the common sense all out of it. + They can be depended on, every time, to defeat a good law, and make it + inoperative—yes, and utterly grotesque, too, mere matter for + laughter and derision. Take some of the decisions of the Post-office + Department, for instance—though I do not mean to suggest that that + asylum is any worse than the others for the breeding and nourishing of + incredible lunatics—I merely instance it because it happens to be + the first to come into my mind. Take that case of a few years ago where + the P. M. General suddenly issued an edict requiring you to add the name + of the State after Boston, New York, Chicago, &c, in your + superscriptions, on pain of having your letter stopped and forwarded to + the dead-letter office; yes, and I believe he required the county, too. He + made one little concession in favor of New York: you could say “New York + City,” and stop there; but if you left off the “city,” you must add “N. + Y.” to your “New York.” Why, it threw the business of the whole country + into chaos and brought commerce almost to a stand-still. Now think of + that! When that man goes to—to—well, wherever he is going to—we + shan't want the microscopic details of his address. I guess we can find + him. + </p> + <p> + Well, as I was saying, I believe that this whole paltry and ridiculous + swindle is a pure creation of one of those cabbages that used to be at the + head of one of those Retreats down there—Departments, you know—and + that you will find it so, if you will look into it. And moreover—but + land, I reckon we are both tired by this time. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Truly Yours, + MARK TWAIN. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVII. MISCELLANEOUS LETTERS OF 1887. LITERARY ARTICLES. PEACEFUL DAYS AT + THE FARM. FAVORITE READING. APOLOGY TO MRS. CLEVELAND, ETC. + </h2> + <p> + We have seen in the preceding chapter how unknown aspirants in one field + or another were always seeking to benefit by Mark Twain's reputation. Once + he remarked, “The symbol of the human race ought to be an ax; every human + being has one concealed about him somewhere.” He declared when a stranger + called on him, or wrote to him, in nine cases out of ten he could + distinguish the gleam of the ax almost immediately. The following letter + is closely related to those of the foregoing chapter, only that this one + was mailed—not once, but many times, in some form adapted to the + specific applicant. It does not matter to whom it was originally written, + the name would not be recognized. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Mrs. T. Concerning unearned credentials, etc. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HARTFORD, 1887. +</pre> + <p> + MY DEAR MADAM,—It is an idea which many people have had, but it is + of no value. I have seen it tried out many and many a time. I have seen a + lady lecturer urged and urged upon the public in a lavishly complimentary + document signed by Longfellow, Whittier, Holmes and some others of supreme + celebrity, but—there was nothing in her and she failed. If there had + been any great merit in her she never would have needed those men's help + and (at her rather mature age,) would never have consented to ask for it. + </p> + <p> + There is an unwritten law about human successes, and your sister must bow + to that law, she must submit to its requirements. In brief this law is: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1. No occupation without an apprenticeship. + + 2. No pay to the apprentice. +</pre> + <p> + This law stands right in the way of the subaltern who wants to be a + General before he has smelt powder; and it stands (and should stand) in + everybody's way who applies for pay or position before he has served his + apprenticeship and proved himself. Your sister's course is perfectly + plain. Let her enclose this letter to Maj. J. B. Pond, and offer to + lecture a year for $10 a week and her expenses, the contract to be + annullable by him at any time, after a month's notice, but not annullable + by her at all. The second year, he to have her services, if he wants them, + at a trifle under the best price offered her by anybody else. + </p> + <p> + She can learn her trade in those two years, and then be entitled to + remuneration—but she can not learn it in any less time than that, + unless she is a human miracle. + </p> + <p> + Try it, and do not be afraid. It is the fair and right thing. If she wins, + she will win squarely and righteously, and never have to blush. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Truly yours, + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Howells wrote, in February, offering to get a publisher to take the + Library of Humor off Mark Twain's hands. Howells had been paid + twenty-six hundred dollars for the work on it, and his conscience + hurt him when he reflected that the book might never be used. In + this letter he also refers to one of the disastrous inventions in + which Clemens had invested—a method of casting brass dies for + stamping book-covers and wall-paper. Howells's purpose was to + introduce something of the matter into his next story. Mark Twain's + reply gives us a light on this particular invention. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HARTFORD, Feb. 15, '87. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR HOWELLS,—I was in New York five days ago, and Webster mentioned + the Library, and proposed to publish it a year or a year and half hence. I + have written him your proposition to-day. (The Library is part of the + property of the C. L. W. & Co. firm.) + </p> + <p> + I don't remember what that technical phrase was, but I think you will find + it in any Cyclopedia under the head of “Brass.” The thing I best remember + is, that the self-styled “inventor” had a very ingenious way of keeping me + from seeing him apply his invention: the first appointment was spoiled by + his burning down the man's shop in which it was to be done, the night + before; the second was spoiled by his burning down his own shop the night + before. He unquestionably did both of these things. He really had no + invention; the whole project was a blackmailing swindle, and cost me + several thousand dollars. + </p> + <p> + The slip you sent me from the May “Study” has delighted Mrs. Clemens and + me to the marrow. To think that thing might be possible to many; but to be + brave enough to say it is possible to you only, I certainly believe. The + longer I live the clearer I perceive how unmatchable, how unapproachable, + a compliment one pays when he says of a man “he has the courage (to utter) + his convictions.” Haven't you had reviewers talk Alps to you, and then + print potato hills? + </p> + <p> + I haven't as good an opinion of my work as you hold of it, but I've always + done what I could to secure and enlarge my good opinion of it. I've always + said to myself, “Everybody reads it and that's something—it surely + isn't pernicious, or the most acceptable people would get pretty tired of + it.” And when a critic said by implication that it wasn't high and fine, + through the remark “High and fine literature is wine” I retorted + (confidentially, to myself,) “yes, high and fine literature is wine, and + mine is only water; but everybody likes water.” + </p> + <p> + You didn't tell me to return that proof-slip, so I have pasted it into my + private scrap-book. None will see it there. With a thousand thanks. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ys Ever + MARK. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Our next letter is an unmailed answer, but it does not belong with + the others, having been withheld for reasons of quite a different + sort. Jeanette Gilder, then of the Critic, was one of Mark Twain's + valued friends. In the comment which he made, when it was shown to + him twenty-two years later, he tells us why he thinks this letter + was not sent. The name, “Rest-and-be-Thankful,” was the official + title given to the summer place at Elmira, but it was more often + known as “Quarry.” + </pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Jeannette Gilder (not mailed): + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HARTFORD, May 14, '87. +</pre> + <p> + MY DEAR MISS GILDER,—We shall spend the summer at the same old + place-the remote farm called “Rest-and-be-Thankful,” on top of the hills + three miles from Elmira, N. Y. Your other question is harder to answer. It + is my habit to keep four or five books in process of erection all the + time, and every summer add a few courses of bricks to two or three of + them; but I cannot forecast which of the two or three it is going to be. + It takes seven years to complete a book by this method, but still it is a + good method: gives the public a rest. I have been accused of “rushing into + print” prematurely, moved thereto by greediness for money; but in truth I + have never done that. Do you care for trifles of information? (Well, then, + “Tom Sawyer” and “The Prince and the Pauper” were each on the stocks two + or three years, and “Old Times on the Mississippi” eight.) One of my + unfinished books has been on the stocks sixteen years; another seventeen. + This latter book could have been finished in a day, at any time during the + past five years. But as in the first of these two narratives all the + action takes place in Noah's ark, and as in the other the action takes + place in heaven, there seemed to be no hurry, and so I have not hurried. + Tales of stirring adventure in those localities do not need to be rushed + to publication lest they get stale by waiting. In twenty-one years, with + all my time at my free disposal I have written and completed only eleven + books, whereas with half the labor that a journalist does I could have + written sixty in that time. I do not greatly mind being accused of a + proclivity for rushing into print, but at the same time I don't believe + that the charge is really well founded. Suppose I did write eleven books, + have you nothing to be grateful for? Go to—-remember the forty-nine + which I didn't write. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Truly Yours + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Notes (added twenty-two years later): +</pre> + <p> + Stormfield, April 30, 1909. It seems the letter was not sent. I probably + feared she might print it, and I couldn't find a way to say so without + running a risk of hurting her. No one would hurt Jeannette Gilder + purposely, and no one would want to run the risk of doing it + unintentionally. She is my neighbor, six miles away, now, and I must ask + her about this ancient letter. + </p> + <p> + I note with pride and pleasure that I told no untruths in my unsent + answer. I still have the habit of keeping unfinished books lying around + years and years, waiting. I have four or five novels on hand at present in + a half-finished condition, and it is more than three years since I have + looked at any of them. I have no intention of finishing them. I could + complete all of them in less than a year, if the impulse should come + powerfully upon me: Long, long ago money-necessity furnished that impulse + once, (“Following the Equator”), but mere desire for money has never + furnished it, so far as I remember. Not even money-necessity was able to + overcome me on a couple of occasions when perhaps I ought to have allowed + it to succeed. While I was a bankrupt and in debt two offers were made me + for weekly literary contributions to continue during a year, and they + would have made a debtless man of me, but I declined them, with my wife's + full approval, for I had known of no instance where a man had pumped + himself out once a week and failed to run “emptyings” before the year was + finished. + </p> + <p> + As to that “Noah's Ark” book, I began it in Edinburgh in 1873;—[This + is not quite correct. The “Noah's Ark” book was begun in Buffalo in 1870.] + I don't know where the manuscript is now. It was a Diary, which professed + to be the work of Shem, but wasn't. I began it again several months ago, + but only for recreation; I hadn't any intention of carrying it to a finish—or + even to the end of the first chapter, in fact. + </p> + <p> + As to the book whose action “takes place in Heaven.” That was a small + thing, (“Captain Stormfield's Visit to Heaven.”) It lay in my pigeon-holes + 40 years, then I took it out and printed it in Harper's Monthly last year. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + S. L. C. +</pre> + <p> + In the next letter we get a pretty and peaceful picture of + “Rest-and-be-Thankful.” These were Mark Twain's balmy days. The financial + drain of the type-machine was heavy but not yet exhausting, and the + prospect of vast returns from it seemed to grow brighter each day. His + publishing business, though less profitable, was still prosperous, his + family life was ideal. How gratefully, then, he could enter into the peace + of that “perfect day.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Mrs. Orion Clemens, in Keokuk, Ia.: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ON THE HILL NEAR ELMIRA, July 10, '87. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MOLLIE,—This is a superb Sunday for weather—very cloudy, + and the thermometer as low as 65. The city in the valley is purple with + shade, as seen from up here at the study. The Cranes are reading and + loafing in the canvas-curtained summer-house 50 yards away on a higher + (the highest) point; the cats are loafing over at “Ellerslie” which is the + children's estate and dwellinghouse in their own private grounds (by deed + from Susie Crane) a hundred yards from the study, amongst the clover and + young oaks and willows. Livy is down at the house, but I shall now go and + bring her up to the Cranes to help us occupy the lounges and hammocks—whence + a great panorama of distant hill and valley and city is seeable. The + children have gone on a lark through the neighboring hills and woods. It + is a perfect day indeed. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + With love to you all. + SAM. +</pre> + <p> + Two days after this letter was written we get a hint of what was the + beginning of business trouble—that is to say, of the failing health + of Charles L. Webster. Webster was ambitious, nervous, and not robust. He + had overworked and was paying the penalty. His trouble was neurasthenia, + and he was presently obliged to retire altogether from the business. The + “Sam and Mary” mentioned were Samuel Moffet and his wife. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Mrs. Pamela Moffett, in Fredonia, N. Y. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ELMIRA, July 12, '87 +</pre> + <p> + MY DEAR SISTER,—I had no idea that Charley's case was so serious. I + knew it was bad, and persistent, but I was not aware of the full size of + the matter. + </p> + <p> + I have just been writing to a friend in Hartford' who treated what I + imagine was a similar case surgically last fall, and produced a permanent + cure. If this is a like case, Charley must go to him. + </p> + <p> + If relief fails there, he must take the required rest, whether the + business can stand it or not. + </p> + <p> + It is most pleasant to hear such prosperous accounts of Sam and Mary, I do + not see how Sam could well be more advantageously fixed. He can grow up + with that paper, and achieve a successful life. + </p> + <p> + It is not all holiday here with Susie and Clara this time. They have to + put in some little time every day on their studies. Jean thinks she is + studying too, but I don't know what it is unless it is the horses; she + spends the day under their heels in the stables—and that is but a + continuation of her Hartford system of culture. + </p> + <p> + With love from us all to you all. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Affectionately + SAM. +</pre> + <p> + Mark Twain had a few books that he read regularly every year or two. Among + these were 'Pepys's Diary', Suetonius's 'Lives of the Twelve Caesars', and + Thomas Carlyle's 'French Revolution'. He had a passion for history, + biography, and personal memoirs of any sort. In his early life he had + cared very little for poetry, but along in the middle eighties he somehow + acquired a taste for Browning and became absorbed in it. A Browning club + assembled as often as once a week at the Clemens home in Hartford to + listen to his readings of the master. He was an impressive reader, and he + carefully prepared himself for these occasions, indicating by graduated + underscorings, the exact values he wished to give to words and phrases. + Those were memorable gatherings, and they must have continued through at + least two winters. It is one of the puzzling phases of Mark Twain's + character that, notwithstanding his passion for direct and lucid + expression, he should have found pleasure in the poems of Robert Browning. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To W. D. Howells, in Boston: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ELMIRA, Aug. 22, '87. +</pre> + <p> + MY DEAR HOWELLS,—How stunning are the changes which age makes in a + man while he sleeps. When I finished Carlyle's French Revolution in 1871, + I was a Girondin; every time I have read it since, I have read it + differently being influenced and changed, little by little, by life and + environment (and Taine and St. Simon): and now I lay the book down once + more, and recognize that I am a Sansculotte!—And not a pale, + characterless Sansculotte, but a Marat. Carlyle teaches no such gospel so + the change is in me—in my vision of the evidences. + </p> + <p> + People pretend that the Bible means the same to them at 50 that it did at + all former milestones in their journey. I wonder how they can lie so. It + comes of practice, no doubt. They would not say that of Dickens's or + Scott's books. Nothing remains the same. When a man goes back to look at + the house of his childhood, it has always shrunk: there is no instance of + such a house being as big as the picture in memory and imagination call + for. Shrunk how? Why, to its correct dimensions: the house hasn't altered; + this is the first time it has been in focus. + </p> + <p> + Well, that's loss. To have house and Bible shrink so, under the + disillusioning corrected angle, is loss-for a moment. But there are + compensations. You tilt the tube skyward and bring planets and comets and + corona flames a hundred and fifty thousand miles high into the field. + Which I see you have done, and found Tolstoi. I haven't got him in focus + yet, but I've got Browning.... + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ys Ever + MARK. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mention has been made already of Mark Twain's tendency to + absentmindedness. He was always forgetting engagements, or getting + them wrong. Once he hurried to an afternoon party, and finding the + mistress of the house alone, sat down and talked to her comfortably + for an hour or two, not remembering his errand at all. It was only + when he reached home that he learned that the party had taken place + the week before. It was always dangerous for him to make + engagements, and he never seemed to profit by sorrowful experience. + We, however, may profit now by one of his amusing apologies. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Mrs. Grover Cleveland, in Washington: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HARTFORD, Nov. 6, 1887. +</pre> + <p> + MY DEAR MADAM,—I do not know how it is in the White House, but in + this house of ours whenever the minor half of the administration tries to + run itself without the help of the major half it gets aground. Last night + when I was offered the opportunity to assist you in the throwing open the + Warner brothers superb benefaction in Bridgeport to those fortunate women, + I naturally appreciated the honor done me, and promptly seized my chance. + I had an engagement, but the circumstances washed it out of my mind. If I + had only laid the matter before the major half of the administration on + the spot, there would have been no blunder; but I never thought of that. + So when I did lay it before her, later, I realized once more that it will + not do for the literary fraction of a combination to try to manage affairs + which properly belong in the office of the business bulk of it. I suppose + the President often acts just like that: goes and makes an impossible + promise, and you never find it out until it is next to impossible to break + it up and set things straight again. Well, that is just our way, + exactly-one half of the administration always busy getting the family into + trouble, and the other half busy getting it out again. And so we do seem + to be all pretty much alike, after all. The fact is, I had forgotten that + we were to have a dinner party on that Bridgeport date—I thought it + was the next day: which is a good deal of an improvement for me, because I + am more used to being behind a day or two than ahead. But that is just the + difference between one end of this kind of an administration and the other + end of it, as you have noticed, yourself—the other end does not + forget these things. Just so with a funeral; if it is the man's funeral, + he is most always there, of course—but that is no credit to him, he + wouldn't be there if you depended on him to remember about it; whereas, if + on the other hand—but I seem to have got off from my line of + argument somehow; never mind about the funeral. Of course I am not meaning + to say anything against funerals—that is, as occasions—mere + occasions—for as diversions I don't think they amount to much But as + I was saying—if you are not busy I will look back and see what it + was I was saying. + </p> + <p> + I don't seem to find the place; but anyway she was as sorry as ever + anybody could be that I could not go to Bridgeport, but there was no help + for it. And I, I have been not only sorry but very sincerely ashamed of + having made an engagement to go without first making sure that I could + keep it, and I do not know how to apologize enough for my heedless breach + of good manners. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + With the sincerest respect, + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Samuel Clemens was one of the very few authors to copyright a book + in England before the enactment of the international copyright law. + As early as 1872 he copyrighted 'Roughing It' in England, and + piratical publishers there respected his rights. Finally, in 1887, + the inland revenue office assessed him with income tax, which he + very willingly paid, instructing his London publishers, Chatto & + Windus, to pay on the full amount he had received from them. But + when the receipt for his taxes came it was nearly a yard square with + due postage of considerable amount. Then he wrote: +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Mr. Chatto, of Chatto & Windus, in London: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HARTFORD, Dec. 5, '87. +</pre> + <p> + MY DEAR CHATTO,—Look here, I don't mind paying the tax, but don't + you let the Inland Revenue Office send me any more receipts for it, for + the postage is something perfectly demoralizing. If they feel obliged to + print a receipt on a horse-blanket, why don't they hire a ship and send it + over at their own expense? + </p> + <p> + Wasn't it good that they caught me out with an old book instead of a new + one? The tax on a new book would bankrupt a body. It was my purpose to go + to England next May and stay the rest of the year, but I've found that tax + office out just in time. My new book would issue in March, and they would + tax the sale in both countries. Come, we must get up a compromise somehow. + You go and work in on the good side of those revenue people and get them + to take the profits and give me the tax. Then I will come over and we will + divide the swag and have a good time. + </p> + <p> + I wish you to thank Mr. Christmas for me; but we won't resist. The country + that allows me copyright has a right to tax me. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sincerely Yours + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Another English tax assessment came that year, based on the report + that it was understood that he was going to become an English + resident, and had leased Buckenham Hall, Norwich, for a year. + Clemens wrote his publishers: “I will explain that all that about + Buckenham Hall was an English newspaper's mistake. I was not in + England, and if I had been I wouldn't have been at Buckenham Hall, + anyway, but at Buckingham Palace, or I would have endeavored to find + out the reason why.” Clemens made literature out of this tax + experience. He wrote an open letter to Her Majesty Queen Victoria. + Such a letter has no place in this collection. It was published in + the “Drawer” of Harper's Magazine, December, 1887, and is now + included in the uniform edition of his works under the title of, + “A Petition to the Queen of England.” + + From the following letter, written at the end of the year, we gather + that the type-setter costs were beginning to make a difference in + the Clemens economies. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Mrs. Moffett, in Fredonia: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HARTFORD, Dec. 18, '87. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR PAMELA,—will you take this $15 and buy some candy or some other + trifle for yourself and Sam and his wife to remember that we remember you, + by? + </p> + <p> + If we weren't a little crowded this year by the typesetter, I'd send a + check large enough to buy a family Bible or some other useful thing like + that. However we go on and on, but the type-setter goes on forever—at + $3,000 a month; which is much more satisfactory than was the case the + first seventeen months, when the bill only averaged $2,000, and promised + to take a thousand years. We'll be through, now, in 3 or 4 months, I + reckon, and then the strain will let up and we can breathe freely once + more, whether success ensues or failure. + </p> + <p> + Even with a type-setter on hand we ought not to be in the least scrimped—but + it would take a long letter to explain why and who is to blame. + </p> + <p> + All the family send love to all of you and best Christmas wishes for your + prosperity. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Affectionately, + SAM. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVIII. LETTERS,1888. A YALE DEGREE. WORK ON “THE YANKEE.” ON + INTERVIEWING, ETC. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mark Twain received his first college degree when he was made Master + of Arts by Yale, in June, 1888. Editor of the Courant, Charles H. + Clarke, was selected to notify him of his new title. Clarke was an + old friend to whom Clemens could write familiarly. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Charles H. Clarke, in Hartford: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ELMIRA, July 2, '88. +</pre> + <p> + MY DEAR CHARLES,—Thanks for your thanks, and for your initiation + intentions. I shall be ready for you. I feel mighty proud of that degree; + in fact, I could squeeze the truth a little closer and say vain of it. And + why shouldn't I be?—I am the only literary animal of my particular + subspecies who has ever been given a degree by any College in any age of + the world, as far as I know. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sincerely Yours + S. L. Clemens M. A. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Reply: Charles H. Clarke to S. L Clemens: +</pre> + <p> + MY DEAR FRIEND, You are “the only literary animal of your particular + subspecies” in existence and you've no cause for humility in the fact. + Yale has done herself at least as much credit as she has done you, and + “Don't you forget it.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + C. H. C. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + With the exception of his brief return to the river in 1882. Mark + Twain had been twenty-seven years away from pilots and piloting. + Nevertheless, he always kept a tender place in his heart for the old + times and for old river comrades. Major “Jack” Downing had been a + Mississippi pilot of early days, but had long since retired from the + river to a comfortable life ashore, in an Ohio town. Clemens had + not heard from him for years when a letter came which invited the + following answer. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Major “Jack” Downing, in Middleport Ohio: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ELMIRA, N. Y.[no month] 1888. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MAJOR,—And has it come to this that the dead rise up and speak? + For I supposed that you were dead, it has been so long since I heard your + name. + </p> + <p> + And how young you've grown! I was a mere boy when I knew you on the river, + where you had been piloting for 35 years, and now you are only a year and + a half older than I am! I mean to go to Hot Springs myself and get 30 or + 40 years knocked off my age. It's manifestly the place that Ponce de Leon + was striking for, but the poor fellow lost the trail. + </p> + <p> + Possibly I may see you, for I shall be in St. Louis a day or two in + November. I propose to go down the river and “note the changes” once more + before I make the long crossing, and perhaps you can come there. Will you? + I want to see all the boys that are left alive. + </p> + <p> + And so Grant Marsh, too, is flourishing yet? A mighty good fellow, and + smart too. When we were taking that wood flat down to the Chambers, which + was aground, I soon saw that I was a perfect lubber at piloting such a + thing. I saw that I could never hit the Chambers with it, so I resigned in + Marsh's favor, and he accomplished the task to my admiration. We should + all have gone to the mischief if I had remained in authority. I always had + good judgement, more judgement than talent, in fact. + </p> + <p> + No; the nom de plume did not originate in that way. Capt. Sellers used the + signature, “Mark Twain,” himself, when he used to write up the antiquities + in the way of river reminiscences for the New Orleans Picayune. He hated + me for burlesquing them in an article in the True Delta; so four years + later when he died, I robbed the corpse—that is I confiscated the + nom de plume. I have published this vital fact 3,000 times now. But no + matter, it is good practice; it is about the only fact that I can tell the + same way every time. Very glad, indeed, to hear from you Major, and shall + be gladder still to see you in November. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Truly yours, + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He did not make the journey down the river planned for that year. + He had always hoped to make another steamboat trip with Bixby, but + one thing and another interfered and he did not go again. + + Authors were always sending their books to Mark Twain to read, and + no busy man was ever more kindly disposed toward such offerings, + more generously considerate of the senders. Louis Pendleton was a + young unknown writer in 1888, but Clemens took time to read his + story carefully, and to write to him about it a letter that cost + precious time, thought, and effort. It must have rejoiced the young + man's heart to receive a letter like that, from one whom all young + authors held supreme. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Louis Pendleton, in Georgia: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ELMIRA, N. Y., Aug. 4, '88. +</pre> + <p> + MY DEAR SIR,—I found your letter an hour ago among some others which + had lain forgotten a couple of weeks, and I at once stole time enough to + read Ariadne. Stole is the right word, for the summer “Vacation” is the + only chance I get for work; so, no minute subtracted from work is + borrowed, it is stolen. But this time I do not repent. As a rule, people + don't send me books which I can thank them for, and so I say nothing—which + looks uncourteous. But I thank you. Ariadne is a beautiful and satisfying + story; and true, too—which is the best part of a story; or indeed of + any other thing. Even liars have to admit that, if they are intelligent + liars; I mean in their private [the word conscientious written but erased] + intervals. (I struck that word out because a man's private thought can + never be a lie; what he thinks, is to him the truth, always; what he + speaks—but these be platitudes.) + </p> + <p> + If you want me to pick some flaws—very well—but I do it + unwillingly. I notice one thing—which one may notice also in my + books, and in all books whether written by man or God: trifling + carelessness of statement or Expression. If I think that you meant that + she took the lizard from the water which she had drawn from the well, it + is evidence—it is almost proof—that your words were not as + clear as they should have been. True, it is only a trifling thing; but so + is mist on a mirror. I would have hung the pail on Ariadne's arm. You did + not deceive me when you said that she carried it under her arm, for I knew + she didn't; still it was not your right to mar my enjoyment of the + graceful picture. If the pail had been a portfolio, I wouldn't be making + these remarks. The engraver of a fine picture revises, and revises, and + revises—and then revises, and revises, and revises; and then + repeats. And always the charm of that picture grows, under his hand. It + was good enough before—told its story, and was beautiful. True: and + a lovely girl is lovely, with freckles; but she isn't at her level best + with them. + </p> + <p> + This is not hypercriticism; you have had training enough to know that. + </p> + <p> + So much concerning exactness of statement. In that other not-small matter—selection + of the exact single word—you are hard to catch. Still, I should hold + that Mrs. Walker considered that there was no occasion for concealment; + that “motive” implied a deeper mental search than she expended on the + matter; that it doesn't reflect the attitude of her mind with precision. + Is this hypercriticism? I shan't dispute it. I only say, that if Mrs. + Walker didn't go so far as to have a motive, I had to suggest that when a + word is so near the right one that a body can't quite tell whether it is + or isn't, it's good politics to strike it out and go for the Thesaurus. + That's all. Motive may stand; but you have allowed a snake to scream, and + I will not concede that that was the best word. + </p> + <p> + I do not apologize for saying these things, for they are not said in the + speck-hunting spirit, but in the spirit of want-to-help-if-I-can. They + would be useful to me if said to me once a month, they may be useful to + you, said once. + </p> + <p> + I save the other stories for my real vacation—which is nine months + long, to my sorrow. I thank you again. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Truly Yours + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In the next letter we get a sidelight on the type-setting machine, + the Frankenstein monster that was draining their substance and + holding out false hopes of relief and golden return. The program + here outlined was one that would continue for several years yet, + with the end always in sight, but never quite attained. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Orion Clemens, in Keokuk, Ia.: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Oct. 3, '88. +</pre> + <p> + Private. + </p> + <p> + Saturday 29th, by a closely calculated estimate, there were 85 days' work + to do on the machine. + </p> + <p> + We can use 4 men, but not constantly. If they could work constantly it + would complete the machine in 21 days, of course. They will all be on hand + and under wages, and each will get in all the work there is opportunity + for, but by how much they can reduce the 85 days toward the 21 days, + nobody can tell. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To-day I pay Pratt & Whitney $10,000. This squares back indebtedness + and everything to date. They began about May or April or March 1886—along + there somewhere, and have always kept from a dozen to two dozen + master-hands on the machine. + </p> + <p> + That outgo is done; 4 men for a month or two will close up that leak and + caulk it. Work on the patents is also kind of drawing toward a conclusion. + </p> + <p> + Love to you both. All well here. + </p> + <p> + And give our love to Ma if she can get the idea. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SAM. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mark Twain that year was working pretty steadily on 'The Yankee at + King Arthur's Court', a book which he had begun two years before. + He had published nothing since the Huck Finn story, and his company + was badly in need of a new book by an author of distinction. Also + it was highly desirable to earn money for himself; wherefore he set + to work to finish the Yankee story. He had worked pretty steadily + that summer in his Elmira study, but on his return to Hartford found + a good deal of confusion in the house, so went over to Twichell's, + where carpenter work was in progress. He seems to have worked there + successfully, though what improvement of conditions he found in that + numerous, lively household, over those at home it would be difficult + to say. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Theodore W. Crane, at Quarry Farm, Elmira, N. Y. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Friday, Oct.,5, '88. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR THEO,—I am here in Twichell's house at work, with the noise of + the children and an army of carpenters to help. Of course they don't help, + but neither do they hinder. It's like a boiler-factory for racket, and in + nailing a wooden ceiling onto the room under me the hammering tickles my + feet amazingly sometimes, and jars my table a good deal; but I never am + conscious of the racket at all, and I move my feet into position of relief + without knowing when I do it. I began here Monday morning, and have done + eighty pages since. I was so tired last night that I thought I would lie + abed and rest, to-day; but I couldn't resist. I mean to try to knock off + tomorrow, but it's doubtful if I do. I want to finish the day the machine + finishes, and a week ago the closest calculations for that indicated Oct. + 22—but experience teaches me that their calculations will miss fire, + as usual. + </p> + <p> + The other day the children were projecting a purchase, Livy and I to + furnish the money—a dollar and a half. Jean discouraged the idea. + She said: “We haven't got any money. Children, if you would think, you + would remember the machine isn't done.” + </p> + <p> + It's billiards to-night. I wish you were here. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + With love to you both + S. L. C. +</pre> + <p> + P. S. I got it all wrong. It wasn't the children, it was Marie. She wanted + a box of blacking, for the children's shoes. Jean reproved her—and + said: + </p> + <p> + “Why, Marie, you mustn't ask for things now. The machine isn't done.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + S. L. C. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The letter that follows is to another of his old pilot friends, one + who was also a schoolmate, Will Bowen, of Hannibal. There is today + no means of knowing the occasion upon which this letter was written, + but it does not matter; it is the letter itself that is of chief + value. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Will Bowen, in Hannibal, Mo.: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HARTFORD, Nov 4, '88. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR WILL,—I received your letter yesterday evening, just as I was + starting out of town to attend a wedding, and so my mind was privately + busy, all the evening, in the midst of the maelstrom of chat and chaff and + laughter, with the sort of reflections which create themselves, examine + themselves, and continue themselves, unaffected by surroundings—unaffected, + that is understood, by the surroundings, but not uninfluenced by them. + Here was the near presence of the two supreme events of life: marriage, + which is the beginning of life, and death which is the end of it. I found + myself seeking chances to shirk into corners where I might think, + undisturbed; and the most I got out of my thought, was this: both marriage + and death ought to be welcome: the one promises happiness, doubtless the + other assures it. A long procession of people filed through my mind—people + whom you and I knew so many years ago—so many centuries ago, it + seems like-and these ancient dead marched to the soft marriage music of a + band concealed in some remote room of the house; and the contented music + and the dreaming shades seemed in right accord with each other, and + fitting. Nobody else knew that a procession of the dead was passing though + this noisy swarm of the living, but there it was, and to me there was + nothing uncanny about it; Rio, they were welcome faces to me. I would have + liked to bring up every creature we knew in those days—even the dumb + animals—it would be bathing in the fabled Fountain of Youth. + </p> + <p> + We all feel your deep trouble with you; and we would hope, if we might, + but your words deny us that privilege. To die one's self is a thing that + must be easy, and of light consequence, but to lose a part of one's self—well, + we know how deep that pang goes, we who have suffered that disaster, + received that wound which cannot heal. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sincerely your friend + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + His next is of quite a different nature. Evidently the typesetting + conditions had alarmed Orion, and he was undertaking some economies + with a view of retrenchment. Orion was always reducing economy to + science. Once, at an earlier date, he recorded that he had figured + his personal living expenses down to sixty cents a week, but + inasmuch as he was then, by his own confession, unable to earn the + sixty cents, this particular economy was wasted. Orion was a trial, + certainly, and the explosion that follows was not without excuse. + Furthermore, it was not as bad as it sounds. Mark Twain's rages + always had an element of humor in them, a fact which no one more + than Orion himself would appreciate. He preserved this letter, + quietly noting on the envelope, “Letter from Sam, about ma's nurse.” + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Letter to Orion Clemens, in Keokuk, Iowa: + + NOV. 29, '88. +</pre> + <p> + Jesus Christ!—It is perilous to write such a man. You can go crazy + on less material than anybody that ever lived. What in hell has produced + all these maniacal imaginings? You told me you had hired an attendant for + ma. Now hire one instantly, and stop this nonsense of wearing Mollie and + yourself out trying to do that nursing yourselves. Hire the attendant, and + tell me her cost so that I can instruct Webster & Co. to add it every + month to what they already send. Don't fool away any more time about this. + And don't write me any more damned rot about “storms,” and inability to + pay trivial sums of money and—and—hell and damnation! You see + I've read only the first page of your letter; I wouldn't read the rest for + a million dollars. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yr + SAM. +</pre> + <p> + P. S. Don't imagine that I have lost my temper, because I swear. I swear + all day, but I do not lose my temper. And don't imagine that I am on my + way to the poorhouse, for I am not; or that I am uneasy, for I am not; or + that I am uncomfortable or unhappy—for I never am. I don't know what + it is to be unhappy or uneasy; and I am not going to try to learn how, at + this late day. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SAM. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Few men were ever interviewed oftener than Mark Twain, yet he never + welcomed interviewers and was seldom satisfied with them. “What I + say in an interview loses it character in print,” he often remarked, + “all its life and personality. The reporter realizes this himself, + and tries to improve upon me, but he doesn't help matters any.” + + Edward W. Bok, before he became editor of the Ladies Home Journal, + was conducting a weekly syndicate column under the title of “Bok's + Literary Leaves.” It usually consisted of news and gossip of + writers, comment, etc., literary odds and ends, and occasional + interviews with distinguished authors. He went up to Hartford one + day to interview Mark Twain. The result seemed satisfactory to Bok, + but wishing to be certain that it would be satisfactory to Clemens, + he sent him a copy for approval. The interview was not returned; + in the place of it came a letter-not altogether disappointing, as + the reader may believe. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Edward W. Bok, in New York: + </p> + <p> + MY DEAR MR. BOK,—No, no. It is like most interviews, pure twaddle + and valueless. + </p> + <p> + For several quite plain and simple reasons, an “interview” must, as a + rule, be an absurdity, and chiefly for this reason—It is an attempt + to use a boat on land or a wagon on water, to speak figuratively. Spoken + speech is one thing, written speech is quite another. Print is the proper + vehicle for the latter, but it isn't for the former. The moment “talk” is + put into print you recognize that it is not what it was when you heard it; + you perceive that an immense something has disappeared from it. That is + its soul. You have nothing but a dead carcass left on your hands. Color, + play of feature, the varying modulations of the voice, the laugh, the + smile, the informing inflections, everything that gave that body warmth, + grace, friendliness and charm and commended it to your affections—or, + at least, to your tolerance—is gone and nothing is left but a + pallid, stiff and repulsive cadaver. + </p> + <p> + Such is “talk” almost invariably, as you see it lying in state in an + “interview”. The interviewer seldom tries to tell one how a thing was + said; he merely puts in the naked remark and stops there. When one writes + for print his methods are very different. He follows forms which have but + little resemblance to conversation, but they make the reader understand + what the writer is trying to convey. And when the writer is making a story + and finds it necessary to report some of the talk of his characters + observe how cautiously and anxiously he goes at that risky and difficult + thing. “If he had dared to say that thing in my presence,” said Alfred, + “taking a mock heroic attitude, and casting an arch glance upon the + company, blood would have flowed.” + </p> + <p> + “If he had dared to say that thing in my presence,” said Hawkwood, with + that in his eye which caused more than one heart in that guilty assemblage + to quake, “blood would have flowed.” + </p> + <p> + “If he had dared to say that thing in my presence,” said the paltry + blusterer, with valor on his tongue and pallor on his lips, “blood would + have flowed.” + </p> + <p> + So painfully aware is the novelist that naked talk in print conveys no + meaning that he loads, and often overloads, almost every utterance of his + characters with explanations and interpretations. It is a loud confession + that print is a poor vehicle for “talk”; it is a recognition that + uninterpreted talk in print would result in confusion to the reader, not + instruction. + </p> + <p> + Now, in your interview, you have certainly been most accurate; you have + set down the sentences I uttered as I said them. But you have not a word + of explanation; what my manner was at several points is not indicated. + Therefore, no reader can possibly know where I was in earnest and where I + was joking; or whether I was joking altogether or in earnest altogether. + Such a report of a conversation has no value. It can convey many meanings + to the reader, but never the right one. To add interpretations which would + convey the right meaning is a something which would require—what? An + art so high and fine and difficult that no possessor of it would ever be + allowed to waste it on interviews. + </p> + <p> + No; spare the reader, and spare me; leave the whole interview out; it is + rubbish. I wouldn't talk in my sleep if I couldn't talk better than that. + </p> + <p> + If you wish to print anything print this letter; it may have some value, + for it may explain to a reader here and there why it is that in + interviews, as a rule, men seem to talk like anybody but themselves. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Very sincerely yours, + MARK TWAIN. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIX. LETTERS, 1889. THE MACHINE. DEATH OF MR. CRANE. CONCLUSION OF THE + YANKEE. + </h2> + <p> + In January, 1889, Clemens believed, after his long seven years of waiting, + fruition had come in the matter of the type machine. Paige, the inventor, + seemed at last to have given it its finishing touches. The mechanical + marvel that had cost so much time, mental stress, and a fortune in money, + stood complete, responsive to the human will and touch—the latest, + and one of the greatest, wonders of the world. To George Standring, a + London printer and publisher, Clemens wrote: “The machine is finished!” + and added, “This is by far the most marvelous invention ever contrived by + man. And it is not a thing of rags and patches; it is made of massive + steel, and will last a century.” + </p> + <p> + In his fever of enthusiasm on that day when he had actually seen it in + operation, he wrote a number of exuberant letters. They were more or less + duplicates, but as the one to his brother is of fuller detail and more + intimate than the others, it has been selected for preservation here. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Orion Clemens, in Keokuk: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HARTFORD, Jan. 5, '89. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR ORION,—At 12.20 this afternoon a line of movable types was + spaced and justified by machinery, for the first time in the history of + the world! And I was there to see. It was done automatically—instantly—perfectly. + This is indeed the first line of movable types that ever was perfectly + spaced and perfectly justified on this earth. + </p> + <p> + This was the last function that remained to be tested—and so by long + odds the most amazing and extraordinary invention ever born of the brain + of man stands completed and perfect. Livy is down stairs celebrating. + </p> + <p> + But it's a cunning devil, is that machine!—and knows more than any + man that ever lived. You shall see. We made the test in this way. We set + up a lot of random letters in a stick—three-fourths of a line; then + filled out the line with quads representing 14 spaces, each space to be + 35/1000 of an inch thick. Then we threw aside the quads and put the + letters into the machine and formed them into 15 two-letter words, leaving + the words separated by two-inch vacancies. Then we started up the machine + slowly, by hand, and fastened our eyes on the space-selecting pins. The + first pin-block projected its third pin as the first word came traveling + along the race-way; second block did the same; but the third block + projected its second pin! + </p> + <p> + “Oh, hell! stop the machine—something wrong—it's going to set + a 30/1000 space!” + </p> + <p> + General consternation. “A foreign substance has got into the spacing + plates.” This from the head mathematician. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that is the trouble,” assented the foreman. + </p> + <p> + Paige examined. “No—look in, and you can see that there's nothing of + the kind.” Further examination. “Now I know what it is—what it must + be: one of those plates projects and binds. It's too bad—the first + test is a failure.” A pause. “Well, boys, no use to cry. Get to work—take + the machine down.—No—Hold on! don't touch a thing! Go right + ahead! We are fools, the machine isn't. The machine knows what it's about. + There is a speck of dirt on one of those types, and the machine is putting + in a thinner space to allow for it!” + </p> + <p> + That was just it. The machine went right ahead, spaced the line, justified + it to a hair, and shoved it into the galley complete and perfect! We took + it out and examined it with a glass. You could not tell by your eye that + the third space was thinner than the others, but the glass and the + calipers showed the difference. Paige had always said that the machine + would measure invisible particles of dirt and allow for them, but even he + had forgotten that vast fact for the moment. + </p> + <p> + All the witnesses made written record of the immense historical birth—the + first justification of a line of movable type by machinery—and also + set down the hour and the minute. Nobody had drank anything, and yet + everybody seemed drunk. Well-dizzy, stupefied, stunned. + </p> + <p> + All the other wonderful inventions of the human brain sink pretty nearly + into commonplace contrasted with this awful mechanical miracle. + Telephones, telegraphs, locomotives, cotton gins, sewing machines, Babbage + calculators, jacquard looms, perfecting presses, Arkwright's frames—all + mere toys, simplicities! The Paige Compositor marches alone and far in the + lead of human inventions. + </p> + <p> + In two or three weeks we shall work the stiffness out of her joints and + have her performing as smoothly and softly as human muscles, and then we + shall speak out the big secret and let the world come and gaze. + </p> + <p> + Return me this letter when you have read it. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SAM. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Judge of the elation which such a letter would produce in Keokuk! + Yet it was no greater than that which existed in Hartford—for a + time. + + Then further delays. Before the machine got “the stiffness out of + her joints” that “cunning devil” manifested a tendency to break the + types, and Paige, who was never happier than when he was pulling + things to pieces and making improvements, had the type-setter apart + again and the day of complete triumph was postponed. + + There was sadness at the Elmira farm that spring. Theodore Crane, + who had long been in poor health, seemed to grow daily worse. In + February he had paid a visit to Hartford and saw the machine in + operation, but by the end of May his condition was very serious. + Remembering his keen sense of humor, Clemens reported to him + cheering and amusing incidents. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Mrs. Theodore Crane. in Elmira, N. Y.: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HARTFORD, May 28, '89. +</pre> + <p> + Susie dear, I want you to tell this to Theodore. You know how + absent-minded Twichell is, and how desolate his face is when he is in that + frame. At such times, he passes the word with a friend on the street and + is not aware of the meeting at all. Twice in a week, our Clara had this + latter experience with him within the past month. But the second instance + was too much for her, and she woke him up, in his tracks, with a reproach. + She said: + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Joe, why do you always look as if you were just going down into the + grave, when you meet a person on the street?”—and then went on to + reveal to him the funereal spectacle which he presented on such occasions. + Well, she has met Twichell three times since then, and would swim the + Connecticut to avoid meeting him the fourth. As soon as he sights her, no + matter how public the place nor how far off she is, he makes a bound into + the air, heaves arms and legs into all sorts of frantic gestures of + delight, and so comes prancing, skipping and pirouetting for her like a + drunken Indian entering heaven. + </p> + <p> + With a full invoice of love from us all to you and Theodore. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + S. L. C. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The reference in the next to the “closing sentence” in a letter + written by Howells to Clemens about this time, refers to a + heart-broken utterance of the former concerning his daughter + Winnie, who had died some time before. She had been a gentle + talented girl, but never of robust health. Her death had followed + a long period of gradual decline. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To W. D. Howells, in Boston: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HARTFORD, Judy 13, '89. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR HOWELLS,—I came on from Elmira a day or two ago, where I left a + house of mourning. Mr. Crane died, after ten months of pain and two whole + days of dying, at the farm on the hill, the 3rd inst: A man who had always + hoped for a swift death. Mrs. Crane and Mrs. Clemens and the children were + in a gloom which brought back to me the days of nineteen years ago, when + Mr. Langdon died. It is heart-breaking to see Mrs. Crane. Many a time, in + the past ten days, the sight of her has reminded me, with a pang, of the + desolation which uttered itself in the closing sentence of your last + letter to me. I do see that there is an argument against suicide: the + grief of the worshipers left behind; the awful famine in their hearts, + these are too costly terms for the release. + </p> + <p> + I shall be here ten days yet, and all alone: nobody in the house but the + servants. Can't Mrs. Howells spare you to me? Can't you come and stay with + me? The house is cool and pleasant; your work will not be interrupted; we + will keep to ourselves and let the rest of the world do the same; you can + have your choice of three bedrooms, and you will find the Children's + schoolroom (which was built for my study,) the perfection of a retired and + silent den for work. There isn't a fly or a mosquito on the estate. Come—say + you will. + </p> + <p> + With kindest regards to Mrs. Howells, and Pilla and John, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yours Ever + MARK. +</pre> + <p> + Howells was more hopeful. He wrote: “I read something in a strange book, + The Physical Theory of Another Life, that consoles a little; namely, we + see and feel the power of Deity in such fullness that we ought to infer + the infinite justice and Goodness which we do not see or feel.” And a few + days later, he wrote: “I would rather see and talk with you than any other + man in the world outside my own blood.” + </p> + <p> + A Connecticut Yankee at King Arthur's Court was brought to an end that + year and given to the artist and printer. Dan Beard was selected for the + drawings, and was given a free hand, as the next letter shows. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Fred J. Hall, Manager Charles L. Webster & Co.: + </p> + <p> + [Charles L. Webster, owing to poor health, had by this time retired from + the firm.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ELMIRA, July 20, '89. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. HALL,—Upon reflection—thus: tell Beard to obey his + own inspiration, and when he sees a picture in his mind put that picture + on paper, be it humorous or be it serious. I want his genius to be wholly + unhampered, I shan't have fears as to the result. They will be better + pictures than if I mixed in and tried to give him points on his own trade. + </p> + <p> + Send this note and he'll understand. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yr + S. L. C. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Clemens had made a good choice in selecting Beard for the + illustrations. He was well qualified for the work, and being of a + socialistic turn of mind put his whole soul into it. When the + drawings were completed, Clemens wrote: “Hold me under permanent + obligations. What luck it was to find you! There are hundreds of + artists that could illustrate any other book of mine, but there was + only one who could illustrate this one. Yes, it was a fortunate + hour that I went netting for lightning bugs and caught a meteor. + Live forever!” + + Clemens, of course, was anxious for Howells to read The Yankee, and + Mrs. Clemens particularly so. Her eyes were giving her trouble that + summer, so that she could not read the MS. for herself, and she had + grave doubts as to some of its chapters. It may be said here that + the book to-day might have been better if Mrs. Clemens had been able + to read it. Howells was a peerless critic, but the revolutionary + subject-matter of the book so delighted him that he was perhaps + somewhat blinded to its literary defects. However, this is + premature. Howells did not at once see the story. He had promised + to come to Hartford, but wrote that trivial matters had made his + visit impossible. From the next letter we get the situation at this + time. The “Mr. Church” mentioned was Frederick S. Church, the + well-known artist. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To W. D. Howells, in Boston: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ELMIRA, July 24, '89. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR HOWELLS,—I, too, was as sorry as I could be; yes, and + desperately disappointed. I even did a heroic thing: shipped my book off + to New York lest I should forget hospitality and embitter your visit with + it. Not that I think you wouldn't like to read it, for I think you would; + but not on a holiday that's not the time. I see how you were situated—another + familiarity of Providence and wholly wanton intrusion—and of course + we could not help ourselves. Well, just think of it: a while ago, while + Providence's attention was absorbed in disordering some time-tables so as + to break up a trip of mine to Mr. Church's on the Hudson, that Johnstown + dam got loose. I swear I was afraid to pray, for fear I should laugh. + Well, I'm not going to despair; we'll manage a meet yet. + </p> + <p> + I expect to go to Hartford again in August and maybe remain till I have to + come back here and fetch the family. And, along there in August, some + time, you let on that you are going to Mexico, and I will let on that I am + going to Spitzbergen, and then under cover of this clever stratagem we + will glide from the trains at Worcester and have a time. I have noticed + that Providence is indifferent about Mexico and Spitzbergen. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ys Ever + MARK. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Possibly Mark Twain was not particularly anxious that Howells should + see his MS., fearing that he might lay a ruthless hand on some of + his more violent fulminations and wild fancies. However this may + be, further postponement was soon at an end. Mrs. Clemens's eyes + troubled her and would not permit her to read, so she requested that + the Yankee be passed upon by soberminded critics, such as Howells + and Edmund Clarence Stedman. Howells wrote that even if he hadn't + wanted to read the book for its own sake, or for the author's sake, + he would still want to do it for Mrs. Clemens's. Whereupon the + proofs were started in his direction. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To W. D. Howells, in Boston: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ELMIRA, Aug. 24, '89. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR HOWELLS,—If you should be moved to speak of my book in the + Study, I shall be glad and proud—and the sooner it gets in, the + better for the book; though I don't suppose you can get it in earlier than + the November number—why, no, you can't get it in till a month later + than that. Well, anyway I don't think I'll send out any other press copy—except + perhaps to Stedman. I'm not writing for those parties who miscall + themselves critics, and I don't care to have them paw the book at all. + It's my swan-song, my retirement from literature permanently, and I wish + to pass to the cemetery unclodded. + </p> + <p> + I judge that the proofs have begun to reach you about this time, as I had + some (though not revises,) this morning. I'm sure I'm going to be charmed + with Beard's pictures. Observe his nice take-off of Middle-Age + art-dinner-table scene. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ys sincerely + MARK. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Howells's approval of the Yankee came almost in the form of exultant + shouts, one after reading each batch of proof. First he wrote: + “It's charming, original, wonderful! good in fancy and sound to the + core in morals.” And again, “It's a mighty great book, and it makes + my heart burn with wrath. It seems God did not forget to put a soul + into you. He shuts most literary men off with a brain, merely.” + Then, a few days later: “The book is glorious—simply noble; what + masses of virgin truth never touched in print before!” and, finally, + “Last night I read your last chapter. As Stedman says of the whole + book, it's titanic.” + </pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To W. D. Howells, in Boston: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HARTFORD, Sept. 22, '89. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR HOWELLS,—It is immensely good of you to grind through that + stuff for me; but it gives peace to Mrs. Clemens's soul; and I am as + grateful to you as a body can be. I am glad you approve of what I say + about the French Revolution. Few people will. It is odd that even to this + day Americans still observe that immortal benefaction through English and + other monarchical eyes, and have no shred of an opinion about it that they + didn't get at second-hand. + </p> + <p> + Next to the 4th of July and its results, it was the noblest and the + holiest thing and the most precious that ever happened in this earth. And + its gracious work is not done yet—not anywhere in the remote + neighborhood of it. + </p> + <p> + Don't trouble to send me all the proofs; send me the pages with your + corrections on them, and waste-basket the rest. We issue the book Dec. 10; + consequently a notice that appears Dec. 20 will be just in good time. + </p> + <p> + I am waiting to see your Study set a fashion in criticism. When that + happens—as please God it must—consider that if you lived three + centuries you couldn't do a more valuable work for this country, or a + humaner. + </p> + <p> + As a rule a critic's dissent merely enrages, and so does no good; but by + the new art which you use, your dissent must be as welcome as your + approval, and as valuable. I do not know what the secret of it is, unless + it is your attitude—man courteously reasoning with man and brother, + in place of the worn and wearisome critical attitude of all this long time—superior + being lecturing a boy. + </p> + <p> + Well, my book is written—let it go. But if it were only to write + over again there wouldn't be so many things left out. They burn in me; and + they keep multiplying and multiplying; but now they can't ever be said. + And besides, they would require a library—and a pen warmed up in + hell. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ys Ever + MARK. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The type-setting machine began to loom large in the background. + Clemens believed it perfected by this time. Paige had got it + together again and it was running steadily—or approximately so + —setting type at a marvelous speed and with perfect accuracy. In + time an expert operator would be able to set as high as eight + thousand ems per hour, or about ten times as much as a good + compositor could set and distribute by hand. Those who saw it were + convinced—most of them—that the type-setting problem was solved by + this great mechanical miracle. If there were any who doubted, it + was because of its marvelously minute accuracy which the others only + admired. Such accuracy, it was sometimes whispered, required + absolutely perfect adjustment, and what would happen when the great + inventor—“the poet in steel,” as Clemens once called him—was no + longer at hand to supervise and to correct the slightest variation. + But no such breath of doubt came to Mark Twain; he believed the + machine as reliable as a constellation. + + But now there was need of capital to manufacture and market the + wonder. Clemens, casting about in his mind, remembered Senator + Jones, of Nevada, a man of great wealth, and his old friend, Joe + Goodman, of Nevada, in whom Jones had unlimited confidence. He + wrote to Goodman, and in this letter we get a pretty full exposition + of the whole matter as it stood in the fall of 1889. We note in + this communication that Clemens says that he has been at the machine + three years and seven months, but this was only the period during + which he had spent the regular monthly sum of three thousand + dollars. His interest in the invention had begun as far back as + 1880. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Joseph T. Goodman, in Nevada: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Private. HARTFORD, Oct. 7, '89. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR JOE,—I had a letter from Aleck Badlam day before yesterday, and + in answering him I mentioned a matter which I asked him to consider a + secret except to you and John McComb,—[This is Col. McComb, of the + Alta-California, who had sent Mark Twain on the Quaker City excursion]—as + I am not ready yet to get into the newspapers. + </p> + <p> + I have come near writing you about this matter several times, but it + wasn't ripe, and I waited. It is ripe, now. It is a type-setting machine + which I undertook to build for the inventor (for a consideration). I have + been at it three years and seven months without losing a day, at a cost of + $3,000 a month, and in so private a way that Hartford has known nothing + about it. Indeed only a dozen men have known of the matter. I have + reported progress from time to time to the proprietors of the N. Y. Sun, + Herald, Times, World, Harper Brothers and John F. Trow; also to the + proprietors of the Boston Herald and the Boston Globe. Three years ago I + asked all these people to squelch their frantic desire to load up their + offices with the Mergenthaler (N. Y. Tribune) machine, and wait for mine + and then choose between the two. They have waited—with no very gaudy + patience—but still they have waited; and I could prove to them + to-day that they have not lost anything by it. But I reserve the proof for + the present—except in the case of the N. Y. Herald; I sent an + invitation there the other day—a courtesy due a paper which ordered + $240,000 worth of our machines long ago when it was still in a crude + condition. The Herald has ordered its foreman to come up here next + Thursday; but that is the only invitation which will go out for some time + yet. + </p> + <p> + The machine was finished several weeks ago, and has been running ever + since in the machine shop. It is a magnificent creature of steel, all of + Pratt & Whitney's super-best workmanship, and as nicely adjusted and + as accurate as a watch. In construction it is as elaborate and complex as + that machine which it ranks next to, by every right—Man—and in + performance it is as simple and sure. + </p> + <p> + Anybody can set type on it who can read—and can do it after only 15 + minutes' instruction. The operator does not need to leave his seat at the + keyboard; for the reason that he is not required to do anything but strike + the keys and set type—merely one function; the spacing, justifying, + emptying into the galley, and distributing of dead matter is all done by + the machine without anybody's help—four functions. + </p> + <p> + The ease with which a cub can learn is surprising. Day before yesterday I + saw our newest cub set, perfectly space and perfectly justify 2,150 ems of + solid nonpareil in an hour and distribute the like amount in the same hour—and + six hours previously he had never seen the machine or its keyboard. It was + a good hour's work for 3-year veterans on the other type-setting machines + to do. We have 3 cubs. The dean of the trio is a school youth of 18. + Yesterday morning he had been an apprentice on the machine 16 working days + (8-hour days); and we speeded him to see what he could do in an hour. In + the hour he set 5,900 ems solid nonpareil, and the machine perfectly + spaced and justified it, and of course distributed the like amount in the + same hour. Considering that a good fair compositor sets 700 and + distributes 700 in the one hour, this boy did the work of about 8 x a + compositors in that hour. This fact sends all other type-setting machines + a thousand miles to the rear, and the best of them will never be heard of + again after we publicly exhibit in New York. + </p> + <p> + We shall put on 3 more cubs. We have one school boy and two compositors, + now,—and we think of putting on a type writer, a stenographer, and + perhaps a shoemaker, to show that no special gifts or training are + required with this machine. We shall train these beginners two or three + months—or until some one of them gets up to 7,000 an hour—then + we will show up in New York and run the machine 24 hours a day 7 days in + the week, for several months—to prove that this is a machine which + will never get out of order or cause delay, and can stand anything an + anvil can stand. You know there is no other typesetting machine that can + run two hours on a stretch without causing trouble and delay with its + incurable caprices. + </p> + <p> + We own the whole field—every inch of it—and nothing can + dislodge us. + </p> + <p> + Now then, above is my preachment, and here follows the reason and purpose + of it. I want you to run over here, roost over the machine a week and + satisfy yourself, and then go to John P. Jones or to whom you please, and + sell me a hundred thousand dollars' worth of this property and take ten + per cent in cash or the “property” for your trouble—the latter, if + you are wise, because the price I ask is a long way short of the value. + </p> + <p> + What I call “property” is this. A small part of my ownership consists of a + royalty of $500 on every machine marketed under the American patents. My + selling-terms are, a permanent royalty of one dollar on every + American-marketed machine for a thousand dollars cash to me in hand paid. + We shan't market any fewer than 5,000 machines in 15 years—a return + of fifteen thousand dollars for one thousand. A royalty is better than + stock, in one way—it must be paid, every six months, rain or shine; + it is a debt, and must be paid before dividends are declared. By and by, + when we become a stock company I shall buy these royalties back for stock + if I can get them for anything like reasonable terms. + </p> + <p> + I have never borrowed a penny to use on the machine, and never sold a + penny's worth of the property until the machine was entirely finished and + proven by the severest tests to be what she started out to be—perfect, + permanent, and occupying the position, as regards all kindred machines, + which the City of Paris occupies as regards the canvas-backs of the + mercantile marine. + </p> + <p> + It is my purpose to sell two hundred dollars of my royalties at the above + price during the next two months and keep the other $300. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Clemens begs Mrs. Goodman to come with you, and asks pardon for not + writing the message herself—which would be a pathetically-welcome + spectacle to me; for I have been her amanuensis for 8 months, now, since + her eyes failed her. Yours as always + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MARK. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + While this letter with its amazing contents is on its way to + astonish Joe Goodman, we will consider one of quite a different, + but equally characteristic sort. We may assume that Mark Twain's + sister Pamela had been visiting him in Hartford and was now making + a visit in Keokuk. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Mrs. Moffett, in Keokuk: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HARTFORD, Oct 9, '89. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR PAMELA,—An hour after you left I was suddenly struck with a + realizing sense of the utter chuckle-headedness of that notion of mine: to + send your trunk after you. Land! it was idiotic. None but a lunatic would, + separate himself from his baggage. + </p> + <p> + Well, I am soulfully glad the baggage fetcher saved me from consummating + my insane inspiration. I met him on the street in the afternoon and paid + him again. I shall pay him several times more, as opportunity offers. + </p> + <p> + I declined the invitation to banquet with the visiting South American + Congress, in a polite note explaining that I had to go to New York today. + I conveyed the note privately to Patrick; he got the envelope soiled, and + asked Livy to put on a clean one. That is why I am going to the banquet; + also why I have disinvited the boys I thought I was going to punch + billiards with, upstairs to-night. + </p> + <p> + Patrick is one of the injudiciousest people I ever struck. And I am the + other. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Your Brother + SAM. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The Yankee was now ready for publication, and advance sheets were + already in the reviewers' hands. Just at this moment the Brazilian + monarchy crumbled, and Clemens was moved to write Sylvester Baxter, + of the Boston Herald, a letter which is of special interest in its + prophecy of the new day, the dawn of which was even nearer than he + suspected. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. BAXTER, Another throne has gone down, and I swim in oceans of + satisfaction. I wish I might live fifty years longer; I believe I should + see the thrones of Europe selling at auction for old iron. I believe I + should really see the end of what is surely the grotesquest of all the + swindles ever invented by man-monarchy. It is enough to make a graven + image laugh, to see apparently rational people, away down here in this + wholesome and merciless slaughter-day for shams, still mouthing empty + reverence for those moss-backed frauds and scoundrelisms, hereditary + kingship and so-called “nobility.” It is enough to make the monarchs and + nobles themselves laugh—and in private they do; there can be no + question about that. I think there is only one funnier thing, and that is + the spectacle of these bastard Americans—these Hamersleys and + Huntingtons and such—offering cash, encumbered by themselves, for + rotten carcases and stolen titles. When our great brethren the disenslaved + Brazilians frame their Declaration of Independence, I hope they will + insert this missing link: “We hold these truths to be self-evident: that + all monarchs are usurpers, and descendants of usurpers; for the reason + that no throne was ever set up in this world by the will, freely + exercised, of the only body possessing the legitimate right to set it up—the + numerical mass of the nation.” + </p> + <p> + You already have the advance sheets of my forthcoming book in your hands. + If you will turn to about the five hundredth page, you will find a state + paper of my Connecticut Yankee in which he announces the dissolution of + King Arthur's monarchy and proclaims the English Republic. Compare it with + the state paper which announces the downfall of the Brazilian monarchy and + proclaims the Republic of the United States of Brazil, and stand by to + defend the Yankee from plagiarism. There is merely a resemblance of ideas, + nothing more. The Yankee's proclamation was already in print a week ago. + This is merely one of those odd coincidences which are always turning up. + Come, protect the Yank from that cheapest and easiest of all charges—plagiarism. + Otherwise, you see, he will have to protect himself by charging + approximate and indefinite plagiarism upon the official servants of our + majestic twin down yonder, and then there might be war, or some similar + annoyance. + </p> + <p> + Have you noticed the rumor that the Portuguese throne is unsteady, and + that the Portuguese slaves are getting restive? Also, that the head + slave-driver of Europe, Alexander III, has so reduced his usual monthly + order for chains that the Russian foundries are running on only half time + now? Also that other rumor that English nobility acquired an added stench + the other day—and had to ship it to India and the continent because + there wasn't any more room for it at home? Things are working. By and by + there is going to be an emigration, may be. Of course we shall make no + preparation; we never do. In a few years from now we shall have nothing + but played-out kings and dukes on the police, and driving the horse-cars, + and whitewashing fences, and in fact overcrowding all the avenues of + unskilled labor; and then we shall wish, when it is too late, that we had + taken common and reasonable precautions and drowned them at Castle Garden. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There followed at this time a number of letters to Goodman, but as + there is much of a sameness in them, we need not print them all. + Clemens, in fact, kept the mails warm with letters bulging with + schemes for capitalization, and promising vast wealth to all + concerned. When the letters did not go fast enough he sent + telegrams. In one of the letters Goodman is promised “five hundred + thousand dollars out of the profits before we get anything + ourselves.” One thing we gather from these letters is that Paige + has taken the machine apart again, never satisfied with its + perfection, or perhaps getting a hint that certain of its + perfections were not permanent. A letter at the end of November + seems worth preserving here. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Joseph T. Goodman, in California: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HARTFORD, Nov. 29, '89. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR JOE, Things are getting into better and more flexible shape every + day. Papers are now being drawn which will greatly simplify the raising of + capital; I shall be in supreme command; it will not be necessary for the + capitalist to arrive at terms with anybody but me. I don't want to dicker + with anybody but Jones. I know him; that is to say, I want to dicker with + you, and through you with Jones. Try to see if you can't be here by the + 15th of January. + </p> + <p> + The machine was as perfect as a watch when we took her apart the other + day; but when she goes together again the 15th of January we expect her to + be perfecter than a watch. + </p> + <p> + Joe, I want you to sell some royalties to the boys out there, if you can, + for I want to be financially strong when we go to New York. You know the + machine, and you appreciate its future enormous career better than any man + I know. At the lowest conceivable estimate (2,000 machines a year,) we + shall sell 34,000 in the life of the patent—17 years. + </p> + <p> + All the family send love to you—and they mean it, or they wouldn't + say it. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yours ever + MARK. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The Yankee had come from the press, and Howells had praised it in + the “Editor's Study” in Harper's Magazine. He had given it his + highest commendation, and it seems that his opinion of it did not + change with time. “Of all fanciful schemes of fiction it pleases me + most,” he in one place declared, and again referred to it as + “a greatly imagined and symmetrically developed tale.” + + In more than one letter to Goodman, Clemens had urged him to come + East without delay. “Take the train, Joe, and come along,” he wrote + early in December. And we judge from the following that Joe had + decided to come. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To W. D. Howells, in Boston: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HARTFORD, Dec. 23, '89. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR HOWELLS,—The magazine came last night, and the Study notice is + just great. The satisfaction it affords us could not be more prodigious if + the book deserved every word of it; and maybe it does; I hope it does, + though of course I can't realize it and believe it. But I am your grateful + servant, anyway and always. + </p> + <p> + I am going to read to the Cadets at West Point Jan. 11. I go from here to + New York the 9th, and up to the Point the 11th. Can't you go with me? It's + great fun. I'm going to read the passages in the “Yankee” in which the + Yankee's West Point cadets figure—and shall covertly work in a + lecture on aristocracy to those boys. I am to be the guest of the + Superintendent, but if you will go I will shake him and we will go to the + hotel. He is a splendid fellow, and I know him well enough to take that + liberty. + </p> + <p> + And won't you give me a day or two's visit toward the end of January? For + two reasons: the machine will be at work again by that time, and we want + to hear the rest of the dream-story; Mrs. Clemens keeps speaking about it + and hankering for it. And we can have Joe Goodman on hand again by that + time, and I want you to get to know him thoroughly. It's well worth it. I + am going to run up and stay over night with you as soon as I can get a + chance. + </p> + <p> + We are in the full rush of the holidays now, and an awful rush it is, too. + You ought to have been here the other day, to make that day perfect and + complete. All alone I managed to inflict agonies on Mrs. Clemens, whereas + I was expecting nothing but praises. I made a party call the day after the + party—and called the lady down from breakfast to receive it. I then + left there and called on a new bride, who received me in her + dressing-gown; and as things went pretty well, I stayed to luncheon. The + error here was, that the appointed reception-hour was 3 in the afternoon, + and not at the bride's house but at her aunt's in another part of the + town. However, as I meant well, none of these disasters distressed me. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yrs ever + MARK. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The Yankee did not find a very hearty welcome in England. English + readers did not fancy any burlesque of their Arthurian tales, or + American strictures on their institutions. Mark Twain's publishers + had feared this, and asked that the story be especially edited for + the English edition. Clemens, however, would not listen to any + suggestions of the sort. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Messrs. Chatto & Windus, in London, Eng.: + </p> + <p> + GENTLEMEN,—Concerning The Yankee, I have already revised the story + twice; and it has been read critically by W. D. Howells and Edmund + Clarence Stedman, and my wife has caused me to strike out several passages + that have been brought to her attention, and to soften others. + Furthermore, I have read chapters of the book in public where Englishmen + were present and have profited by their suggestions. + </p> + <p> + Now, mind you, I have taken all this pains because I wanted to say a + Yankee mechanic's say against monarchy and its several natural props, and + yet make a book which you would be willing to print exactly as it comes to + you, without altering a word. + </p> + <p> + We are spoken of (by Englishmen) as a thin-skinned people. It is you who + are thin-skinned. An Englishman may write with the most brutal frankness + about any man or institution among us and we republish him without + dreaming of altering a line or a word. But England cannot stand that kind + of a book written about herself. It is England that is thin-skinned. It + causeth me to smile when I read the modifications of my language which + have been made in my English editions to fit them for the sensitive + English palate. + </p> + <p> + Now, as I say, I have taken laborious pains to so trim this book of + offense that you might not lack the nerve to print it just as it stands. I + am going to get the proofs to you just as early as I can. I want you to + read it carefully. If you can publish it without altering a single word, + go ahead. Otherwise, please hand it to J. R. Osgood in time for him to + have it published at my expense. + </p> + <p> + This is important, for the reason that the book was not written for + America; it was written for England. So many Englishmen have done their + sincerest best to teach us something for our betterment that it seems to + me high time that some of us should substantially recognize the good + intent by trying to pry up the English nation to a little higher level of + manhood in turn. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Very truly yours, + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> + <p> + The English nation, at least a considerable portion of it, did not wish to + be “pried up to a higher level of manhood” by a Connecticut Yankee. The + papers pretty generally denounced the book as coarse; in fact, a vulgar + travesty. Some of the critics concluded that England, after all, had made + a mistake in admiring Mark Twain. Clemens stood this for a time and then + seems to have decided that something should be done. One of the foremost + of English critics was his friend and admirer; he would state the case to + him fully and invite his assistance. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Andrew Lang, in London: + </p> + <p> + [First page missing.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1889 +</pre> + <p> + They vote but do not print. The head tells you pretty promptly whether the + food is satisfactory or not; and everybody hears, and thinks the whole man + has spoken. It is a delusion. Only his taste and his smell have been heard + from—important, both, in a way, but these do not build up the man; + and preserve his life and fortify it. + </p> + <p> + The little child is permitted to label its drawings “This is a cow this is + a horse,” and so on. This protects the child. It saves it from the sorrow + and wrong of hearing its cows and its horses criticized as kangaroos and + work benches. A man who is white-washing a fence is doing a useful thing, + so also is the man who is adorning a rich man's house with costly + frescoes; and all of us are sane enough to judge these performances by + standards proper to each. Now, then, to be fair, an author ought to be + allowed to put upon his book an explanatory line: “This is written for the + Head;” “This is written for the Belly and the Members.” And the critic + ought to hold himself in honor bound to put away from him his ancient + habit of judging all books by one standard, and thenceforth follow a + fairer course. + </p> + <p> + The critic assumes, every time, that if a book doesn't meet the + cultivated-class standard, it isn't valuable. Let us apply his law all + around: for if it is sound in the case of novels, narratives, pictures, + and such things, it is certainly sound and applicable to all the steps + which lead up to culture and make culture possible. It condemns the + spelling book, for a spelling book is of no use to a person of culture; it + condemns all school books and all schools which lie between the child's + primer and Greek, and between the infant school and the university; it + condemns all the rounds of art which lie between the cheap terra cotta + groups and the Venus de Medici, and between the chromo and the + Transfiguration; it requires Whitcomb Riley to sing no more till he can + sing like Shakespeare, and it forbids all amateur music and will grant its + sanction to nothing below the “classic.” + </p> + <p> + Is this an extravagant statement? No, it is a mere statement of fact. It + is the fact itself that is extravagant and grotesque. And what is the + result? This—and it is sufficiently curious: the critic has actually + imposed upon the world the superstition that a painting by Raphael is more + valuable to the civilizations of the earth than is a chromo; and the + august opera than the hurdy-gurdy and the villagers' singing society; and + Homer than the little everybody's-poet whose rhymes are in all mouths + today and will be in nobody's mouth next generation; and the Latin + classics than Kipling's far-reaching bugle-note; and Jonathan Edwards than + the Salvation Army; and the Venus de Medici than the plaster-cast peddler; + the superstition, in a word, that the vast and awful comet that trails its + cold lustre through the remote abysses of space once a century and + interests and instructs a cultivated handful of astronomers is worth more + to the world than the sun which warms and cheers all the nations every day + and makes the crops to grow. + </p> + <p> + If a critic should start a religion it would not have any object but to + convert angels: and they wouldn't need it. The thin top crust of humanity—the + cultivated—are worth pacifying, worth pleasing, worth coddling, + worth nourishing and preserving with dainties and delicacies, it is true; + but to be caterer to that little faction is no very dignified or valuable + occupation, it seems to me; it is merely feeding the over-fed, and there + must be small satisfaction in that. It is not that little minority who are + already saved that are best worth trying to uplift, I should think, but + the mighty mass of the uncultivated who are underneath. That mass will + never see the Old Masters—that sight is for the few; but the chromo + maker can lift them all one step upward toward appreciation of art; they + cannot have the opera, but the hurdy-gurdy and the singing class lift them + a little way toward that far light; they will never know Homer, but the + passing rhymester of their day leaves them higher than he found them; they + may never even hear of the Latin classics, but they will strike step with + Kipling's drum-beat, and they will march; for all Jonathan Edwards's help + they would die in their slums, but the Salvation Army will beguile some of + them up to pure air and a cleaner life; they know no sculpture, the Venus + is not even a name to them, but they are a grade higher in the scale of + civilization by the ministrations of the plaster-cast than they were + before it took its place upon then mantel and made it beautiful to their + unexacting eyes. + </p> + <p> + Indeed I have been misjudged, from the very first. I have never tried in + even one single instance, to help cultivate the cultivated classes. I was + not equipped for it, either by native gifts or training. And I never had + any ambition in that direction, but always hunted for bigger game—the + masses. I have seldom deliberately tried to instruct them, but have done + my best to entertain them. To simply amuse them would have satisfied my + dearest ambition at any time; for they could get instruction elsewhere, + and I had two chances to help to the teacher's one: for amusement is a + good preparation for study and a good healer of fatigue after it. My + audience is dumb, it has no voice in print, and so I cannot know whether I + have won its approbation or only got its censure. + </p> + <p> + Yes, you see, I have always catered for the Belly and the Members, but + have been served like the others—criticized from the + culture-standard—to my sorrow and pain; because, honestly, I never + cared what became of the cultured classes; they could go to the theatre + and the opera—they had no use for me and the melodeon. + </p> + <p> + And now at last I arrive at my object and tender my petition, making + supplication to this effect: that the critics adopt a rule recognizing the + Belly and the Members, and formulate a standard whereby work done for them + shall be judged. Help me, Mr. Lang; no voice can reach further than yours + in a case of this kind, or carry greater weight of authority. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Lang's reply was an article in the Illustrated London News on “The + Art of Mark Twain.” Lang had no admiration to express for the + Yankee, which he confessed he had not cared to read, but he + glorified Huck Finn to the highest. “I can never forget, nor be + ungrateful for the exquisite pleasure with which I read Huckleberry + Finn for the first time, years ago,” he wrote; “I read it again last + night, deserting Kenilworth for Huck. I never laid it down till I + had finished it.” + + Lang closed his article by referring to the story of Huck as the + “great American novel which had escaped the eyes of those who + watched to see this new planet swim into their ken.” + </pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXX. LETTERS, 1890, CHIEFLY TO JOS. T. GOODMAN. THE GREAT MACHINE + ENTERPRISE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Dr. John Brown's son, whom Mark Twain and his wife had known in 1873 + as “Jock,” sent copies of Dr. John Brown and His Sister Isabella, by + E. T. McLaren. It was a gift appreciated in the Clemens home. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Mr. John Brown, in Edinburgh, Scotland: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HARTFORD, Feby 11, 1890. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. BROWN,—Both copies came, and we are reading and re-reading + the one, and lending the other, to old time adorers of “Rab and his + Friends.” It is an exquisite book; the perfection of literary workmanship. + It says in every line, “Don't look at me, look at him”—and one tries + to be good and obey; but the charm of the painter is so strong that one + can't keep his entire attention on the developing portrait, but must steal + side-glimpses of the artist, and try to divine the trick of her felicitous + brush. In this book the doctor lives and moves just as he was. He was the + most extensive slave-holder of his time, and the kindest; and yet he died + without setting one of his bondmen free. We all send our very, very + kindest regards. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sincerely yours + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + If Mark Twain had been less interested in the type-setting machine + he might possibly have found a profit that winter in the old Sellers + play, which he had written with Howells seven years before. The + play had eventually been produced at the Lyceum Theatre in New York, + with A. P. Burbank in the leading role, and Clemens and Howells as + financial backers. But it was a losing investment, nor did it pay + any better when Clemens finally sent Burbank with it on the road. + Now, however, James A. Herne, a well-known actor and playwright, + became interested in the idea, after a discussion of the matter with + Howells, and there seemed a probability that with changes made under + Herne's advisement the play might be made sensible and successful. + + But Mark Twain's greater interest was now all in the type-machine, + and certainly he had no money to put into any other venture. His + next letter to Goodman is illuminating—the urgency of his need for + funds opposed to that conscientiousness which was one of the most + positive forces of Mark Twain's body spiritual. The Mr. Arnot of + this letter was an Elmira capitalist. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Jos. T. Goodman, in California: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HARTFORD, March 31, '90. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR JOE,—If you were here, I should say, “Get you to Washington and + beg Senator Jones to take the chances and put up about ten or “—no, + I wouldn't. The money would burn a hole in my pocket and get away from me + if the furnisher of it were proceeding upon merely your judgment and mine + and without other evidence. It is too much of a responsibility. + </p> + <p> + But I am in as close a place to-day as ever I was; $3,000 due for the last + month's machine-expenses, and the purse empty. I notified Mr. Arnot a + month ago that I should want $5,000 to-day, and his check arrived last + night; but I sent it back to him, because when he bought of me on the 9th + of December I said that I would not draw upon him for 3 months, and that + before that date Senator Jones would have examined the machine and + approved, or done the other thing. If Jones should arrive here a week or + ten days from now (as he expects to do,) and should not approve, and + shouldn't buy any royalties, my deal with Arnot would not be symmetrically + square, and then how could I refund? The surest way was to return his + check. + </p> + <p> + I have talked with the madam, and here is the result. I will go down to + the factory and notify Paige that I will scrape together $6,000 to meet + the March and April expenses, and will retire on the 30th of April and + return the assignment to him if in the meantime I have not found financial + relief. + </p> + <p> + It is very rough; for the machine does at last seem perfect, and just a + bird to go! I think she's going to be good for 8,000 ems an hour in the + hands of a good ordinary man after a solid year's practice. I may be in + error, but I most solidly believe it. + </p> + <p> + There's an improved Mergenthaler in New York; Paige and Davis and I + watched it two whole afternoons. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + With the love of us all, + MARK. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Arnot wrote Clemens urging him to accept the check for five thousand + dollars in this moment of need. Clemens was probably as sorely + tempted to compromise with his conscience as he had ever been in his + life, but his resolution field firm. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To M. H. Arnot, in Elmira, N. Y.: + </p> + <p> + MR. M. H. ARNOT + </p> + <p> + DEAR SIR,—No—no, I could not think of taking it, with you + unsatisfied; and you ought not to be satisfied until you have made + personal examination of the machine and had a consensus of testimony of + disinterested people, besides. My own perfect knowledge of what is + required of such a machine, and my perfect knowledge of the fact that this + is the only machine that can meet that requirement, make it difficult for + me to realize that a doubt is possible to less well-posted men; and so I + would have taken your money without thinking, and thus would have done a + great wrong to you and a great one to myself. And now that I go back over + the ground, I remember that where I said I could get along 3 months + without drawing on you, that delay contemplated a visit from you to the + machine in the interval, and your satisfaction with its character and + prospects. I had forgotten all that. But I remember it now; and the fact + that it was not “so nominated in the bond” does not alter the case or + justify me in making my call so prematurely. I do not know that you + regarded all that as a part of the bargain—for you were thoroughly + and magnanimously unexacting—but I so regarded it, notwithstanding I + have so easily managed to forget all about it. + </p> + <p> + You so gratified me, and did me so much honor in bonding yourself to me in + a large sum, upon no evidence but my word and with no protection but my + honor, that my pride in that is much stronger than my desire to reap a + money advantage from it. + </p> + <p> + With the sincerest appreciation I am Truly yours + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + S L. CLEMENS. +</pre> + <p> + P. S. I have written a good many words and yet I seem to have failed to + say the main thing in exact enough language—which is, that the + transaction between us is not complete and binding until you shall have + convinced yourself that the machine's character and prospects are + satisfactory. + </p> + <p> + I ought to explain that the grippe delayed us some weeks, and that we have + since been waiting for Mr. Jones. When he was ready, we were not; and now + we have been ready more than a month, while he has been kept in Washington + by the Silver bill. He said the other day that to venture out of the + Capitol for a day at this time could easily chance to hurt him if the bill + came up for action, meantime, although it couldn't hurt the bill, which + would pass anyway. Mrs. Jones said she would send me two or three days' + notice, right after the passage of the bill, and that they would follow as + soon as I should return word that their coming would not inconvenience us. + I suppose I ought to go to New York without waiting for Mr. Jones, but it + would not be wise to go there without money. + </p> + <p> + The bill is still pending. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The Mergenthaler machine, like the Paige, was also at this time in + the middle stages of experimental development. It was a slower + machine, but it was simpler, less expensive, occupied less room. + There was not so much about it to get out of order; it was not so + delicate, not so human. These were immense advantages. + + But no one at this time could say with certainty which typesetter + would reap the harvest of millions. It was only sure that at least + one of them would, and the Mergenthaler people were willing to trade + stock for stock with the Paige company in order to insure financial + success for both, whichever won. Clemens, with a faith that never + faltered, declined this offer, a decision that was to cost him + millions. + + Winter and spring had gone and summer had come, but still there had + been no financial conclusion with Jones, Mackay, and the other rich + Californians who were to put up the necessary million for the + machine's manufacture. Goodman was spending a large part of his + time traveling back and forth between California and Washington, + trying to keep business going at both ends. Paige spent most of his + time working out improvements for the type-setter, delicate + attachments which complicated its construction more and more. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Joe T. Goodman, in Washington: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HARTFORD, June 22, '90. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR JOE,—I have been sitting by the machine 2 hours, this + afternoon, and my admiration of it towers higher than ever. There is no + sort of mistake about it, it is the Big Bonanza. In the 2 hours, the time + lost by type-breakage was 3 minutes. + </p> + <p> + This machine is totally without a rival. Rivalry with it is impossible. + Last Friday, Fred Whitmore (it was the 28th day of his apprenticeship on + the machine) stacked up 49,700 ems of solid nonpareil in 8 hours, and the + type-breaking delay was only 6 minutes for the day. + </p> + <p> + I claim yet, as I have always claimed, that the machine's market (abroad + and here together,) is today worth $150,000,000 without saying anything + about the doubling and trebling of this sum that will follow within the + life of the patents. Now here is a queer fact: I am one of the wealthiest + grandees in America—one of the Vanderbilt gang, in fact—and + yet if you asked me to lend you a couple of dollars I should have to ask + you to take my note instead. + </p> + <p> + It makes me cheerful to sit by the machine: come up with Mrs. Goodman and + refresh yourself with a draught of the same. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ys ever + MARK. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The machine was still breaking the types now and then, and no doubt + Paige was itching to take it to pieces, and only restrained by force + from doing so. He was never thoroughly happy unless he was taking + the machine apart or setting it up again. Finally, he was allowed + to go at it—a disasterous permission, for it was just then that + Jones decided to steal a day or two from the Silver Bill and watch + the type-setter in operation. Paige already had it in parts when + this word came from Goodman, and Jones's visit had to be called off. + His enthusiasm would seem to have weakened from that day. In July, + Goodman wrote that both Mackay and Jones had become somewhat + diffident in the matter of huge capitalization. He thought it + partly due, at least, to “the fatal delays that have sicklied over + the bloom of original enthusiasm.” Clemens himself went down to + Washington and perhaps warmed Jones with his eloquence; at least, + Jones seemed to have agreed to make some effort in the matter a + qualified promise, the careful word of a wary politician and + capitalist. How many Washington trips were made is not certain, but + certainly more than one. Jones would seem to have suggested forms + of contracts, but if he came to the point of signing any there is no + evidence of it to-day. + + Any one who has read Mark Twain's, “A Connecticut Yankee in King + Arthur's Court,” has a pretty good idea of his opinion of kings in + general, and tyrants in particular. Rule by “divine right,” however + liberal, was distasteful to him; where it meant oppression it + stirred him to violence. In his article, “The Czar's Soliloquy,” he + gave himself loose rein concerning atrocities charged to the master + of Russia, and in a letter which he wrote during the summer of 1890, + he offered a hint as to remedies. The letter was written by + editorial request, but was never mailed. Perhaps it seemed too + openly revolutionary at the moment. + + Yet scarcely more than a quarter of a century was needed to make it + “timely.” Clemens and his family were spending some weeks in the + Catskills when it was written. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + An unpublished letter on the Czar. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ONTEORA, 1890. +</pre> + <p> + TO THE EDITOR OF FREE RUSSIA,—I thank you for the compliment of your + invitation to say something, but when I ponder the bottom paragraph on + your first page, and then study your statement on your third page, of the + objects of the several Russian liberation-parties, I do not quite know how + to proceed. Let me quote here the paragraph referred to: + </p> + <p> + “But men's hearts are so made that the sight of one voluntary victim for a + noble idea stirs them more deeply than the sight of a crowd submitting to + a dire fate they cannot escape. Besides, foreigners could not see so + clearly as the Russians how much the Government was responsible for the + grinding poverty of the masses; nor could they very well realize the moral + wretchedness imposed by that Government upon the whole of educated Russia. + But the atrocities committed upon the defenceless prisoners are there in + all their baseness, concrete and palpable, admitting of no excuse, no + doubt or hesitation, crying out to the heart of humanity against Russian + tyranny. And the Tzar's Government, stupidly confident in its apparently + unassailable position, instead of taking warning from the first rebukes, + seems to mock this humanitarian age by the aggravation of brutalities. Not + satisfied with slowly killing its prisoners, and with burying the flower + of our young generation in the Siberian desserts, the Government of + Alexander III. resolved to break their spirit by deliberately submitting + them to a regime of unheard-of brutality and degradation.” + </p> + <p> + When one reads that paragraph in the glare of George Kennan's revelations, + and considers how much it means; considers that all earthly figures fail + to typify the Czar's government, and that one must descend into hell to + find its counterpart, one turns hopefully to your statement of the objects + of the several liberation-parties—and is disappointed. Apparently + none of them can bear to think of losing the present hell entirely, they + merely want the temperature cooled down a little. + </p> + <p> + I now perceive why all men are the deadly and uncompromising enemies of + the rattlesnake: it is merely because the rattlesnake has not speech. + Monarchy has speech, and by it has been able to persuade men that it + differs somehow from the rattlesnake, has something valuable about it + somewhere, something worth preserving, something even good and high and + fine, when properly “modified,” something entitling it to protection from + the club of the first comer who catches it out of its hole. It seems a + most strange delusion and not reconcilable with our superstition that man + is a reasoning being. If a house is afire, we reason confidently that it + is the first comer's plain duty to put the fire out in any way he can—drown + it with water, blow it up with dynamite, use any and all means to stop the + spread of the fire and save the rest of the city. What is the Czar of + Russia but a house afire in the midst of a city of eighty millions of + inhabitants? Yet instead of extinguishing him, together with his nest and + system, the liberation-parties are all anxious to merely cool him down a + little and keep him. + </p> + <p> + It seems to me that this is illogical—idiotic, in fact. Suppose you + had this granite-hearted, bloody-jawed maniac of Russia loose in your + house, chasing the helpless women and little children—your own. What + would you do with him, supposing you had a shotgun? Well, he is loose in + your house-Russia. And with your shotgun in your hand, you stand trying to + think up ways to “modify” him. + </p> + <p> + Do these liberation-parties think that they can succeed in a project which + has been attempted a million times in the history of the world and has + never in one single instance been successful—the “modification” of a + despotism by other means than bloodshed? They seem to think they can. My + privilege to write these sanguinary sentences in soft security was bought + for me by rivers of blood poured upon many fields, in many lands, but I + possess not one single little paltry right or privilege that come to me as + a result of petition, persuasion, agitation for reform, or any kindred + method of procedure. When we consider that not even the most responsible + English monarch ever yielded back a stolen public right until it was + wrenched from them by bloody violence, is it rational to suppose that + gentler methods can win privileges in Russia? + </p> + <p> + Of course I know that the properest way to demolish the Russian throne + would be by revolution. But it is not possible to get up a revolution + there; so the only thing left to do, apparently, is to keep the throne + vacant by dynamite until a day when candidates shall decline with thanks. + Then organize the Republic. And on the whole this method has some large + advantages; for whereas a revolution destroys some lives which cannot well + be spared, the dynamite way doesn't. Consider this: the conspirators + against the Czar's life are caught in every rank of life, from the low to + the high. And consider: if so many take an active part, where the peril is + so dire, is this not evidence that the sympathizers who keep still and do + not show their hands, are countless for multitudes? Can you break the + hearts of thousands of families with the awful Siberian exodus every year + for generations and not eventually cover all Russia from limit to limit + with bereaved fathers and mothers and brothers and sisters who secretly + hate the perpetrator of this prodigious crime and hunger and thirst for + his life? Do you not believe that if your wife or your child or your + father was exiled to the mines of Siberia for some trivial utterances + wrung from a smarting spirit by the Czar's intolerable tyranny, and you + got a chance to kill him and did not do it, that you would always be + ashamed to be in your own society the rest of your life? Suppose that that + refined and lovely Russian lady who was lately stripped bare before a + brutal soldiery and whipped to death by the Czar's hand in the person of + the Czar's creature had been your wife, or your daughter or your sister, + and to-day the Czar should pass within reach of your hand, how would you + feel—and what would you do? Consider, that all over vast Russia, + from boundary to boundary, a myriad of eyes filled with tears when that + piteous news came, and through those tears that myriad of eyes saw, not + that poor lady, but lost darlings of their own whose fate her fate brought + back with new access of grief out of a black and bitter past never to be + forgotten or forgiven. + </p> + <p> + If I am a Swinburnian—and clear to the marrow I am—I hold + human nature in sufficient honor to believe there are eighty million mute + Russians that are of the same stripe, and only one Russian family that + isn't. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MARK TWAIN. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Type-setter matters were going badly. Clemens still had faith in + Jones, and he had lost no grain of faith in the machine. The money + situation, however, was troublesome. With an expensive + establishment, and work of one sort or another still to be done on + the machine, his income would not reach. Perhaps Goodman had + already given up hope, for he does not seem to have returned from + California after the next letter was written—a colorless letter + —in which we feel a note of resignation. The last few lines are + sufficient. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Joe T. Goodman, in California: + </p> + <p> + DEAR JOE,—...... I wish you could get a day off and make those two + or three Californians buy those privileges, for I'm going to need money + before long. + </p> + <p> + I don't know where the Senator is; but out on the Coast I reckon. + </p> + <p> + I guess we've got a perfect machine at last. We never break a type, now, + and the new device for enabling the operator to touch the last letters and + justify the line simultaneously works, to a charm. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + With love to you both, + MARK +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The year closed gloomily enough. The type-setter seemed to be + perfected, but capital for its manufacture was not forthcoming. + The publishing business of Charles L. Webster & Co. was returning + little or no profit. Clemens's mother had died in Keokuk at the end + of October, and his wife's mother, in Elmira a month later. Mark + Twain, writing a short business letter to his publishing manager, + Fred J. Ball, closed it: “Merry Xmas to you!—and I wish to God I + could have one myself before I die.” + </pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXI. LETTERS, 1891, TO HOWELLS, MRS. CLEMENS AND OTHERS. RETURN TO + LITERATURE. AMERICAN CLAIMANT. LEAVING HARTFORD. EUROPE. DOWN THE RHINE. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Clemens was still not without hope in the machine, at the + beginning of the new year (1891) but it was a hope no longer + active, and it presently became a moribund. Jones, on about + the middle of February, backed out altogether, laying the + blame chiefly on Mackay and the others, who, he said, had + decided not to invest. Jones “let his victim down easy” + with friendly words, but it was the end, for the present, at + least, of machine financiering. + + It was also the end of Mark Twain's capital. His publishing + business was not good. It was already in debt and needing + more money. There was just one thing for him to do and he + did it at once, not stopping to cry over spilt milk, but + with good courage and the old enthusiasm that never failed + him, he returned to the trade of authorship. He dug out + half-finished articles and stories, finished them and sold + them, and within a week after the Jones collapse he was at + work on a novel based an the old Sellers idea, which eight + years before he and Howells had worked into a play. The + brief letter in which he reported this news to Howells bears + no marks of depression, though the writer of it was in his + fifty-sixth year; he was by no means well, and his financial + prospects were anything but golden. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To W. D. Howells, in Boston: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HARTFORD, Feb. 24, '91 +</pre> + <p> + DEAR HOWELLS,—Mrs. Clemens has been sick abed for near two weeks, + but is up and around the room now, and gaining. I don't know whether she + has written Mrs. Howells or not—I only know she was going to—and + will yet, if she hasn't. We are promising ourselves a whole world of + pleasure in the visit, and you mustn't dream of disappointing us. + </p> + <p> + Does this item stir an interest in you? Began a novel four days ago, and + this moment finished chapter four. Title of the book: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Colonel Mulberry Sellers. + American Claimant + Of the + Great Earldom of Rossmore' + in the + Peerage of Great Britain.” + + Ys Ever + MARK. +</pre> + <p> + Probably Mark Twain did not return to literary work reluctantly. He had + always enjoyed writing and felt now that he was equipped better than ever + for authorship, at least so far as material was concerned. There exists a + fragmentary copy of a letter to some unknown correspondent, in which he + recites his qualifications. It bears evidence of having been written just + at this time and is of unusual interest at this point. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Fragment of Letter to ———-, 1891: + </p> + <p> + .... I confine myself to life with which I am familiar when pretending to + portray life. But I confined myself to the boy-life out on the Mississippi + because that had a peculiar charm for me, and not because I was not + familiar with other phases of life. I was a soldier two weeks once in the + beginning of the war, and was hunted like a rat the whole time. Familiar? + My splendid Kipling himself hasn't a more burnt-in, hard-baked, and + unforgetable familiarity with that + death-on-the-pale-horse-with-hell-following-after, which is a raw + soldier's first fortnight in the field—and which, without any doubt, + is the most tremendous fortnight and the vividest he is ever going to see. + </p> + <p> + Yes, and I have shoveled silver tailings in a quartz-mill a couple of + weeks, and acquired the last possibilities of culture in that direction. + And I've done “pocket-mining” during three months in the one little patch + of ground in the whole globe where Nature conceals gold in pockets—or + did before we robbed all of those pockets and exhausted, obliterated, + annihilated the most curious freak Nature ever indulged in. There are not + thirty men left alive who, being told there was a pocket hidden on the + broad slope of a mountain, would know how to go and find it, or have even + the faintest idea of how to set about it; but I am one of the possible 20 + or 30 who possess the secret, and I could go and put my hand on that + hidden treasure with a most deadly precision. + </p> + <p> + And I've been a prospector, and know pay rock from poor when I find it—just + with a touch of the tongue. And I've been a silver miner and know how to + dig and shovel and drill and put in a blast. And so I know the mines and + the miners interiorly as well as Bret Harte knows them exteriorly. + </p> + <p> + And I was a newspaper reporter four years in cities, and so saw the inside + of many things; and was reporter in a legislature two sessions and the + same in Congress one session, and thus learned to know personally three + sample bodies of the smallest minds and the selfishest souls and the + cowardliest hearts that God makes. + </p> + <p> + And I was some years a Mississippi pilot, and familiarly knew all the + different kinds of steam-boatmen—a race apart, and not like other + folk. + </p> + <p> + And I was for some years a traveling “jour” printer, and wandered from + city to city—and so I know that sect familiarly. + </p> + <p> + And I was a lecturer on the public platform a number of seasons and was a + responder to toasts at all the different kinds of banquets—and so I + know a great many secrets about audiences—secrets not to be got out + of books, but only acquirable by experience. + </p> + <p> + And I watched over one dear project of mine for years, spent a fortune on + it, and failed to make it go—and the history of that would make a + large book in which a million men would see themselves as in a mirror; and + they would testify and say, Verily, this is not imagination; this fellow + has been there—and after would cast dust upon their heads, cursing + and blaspheming. + </p> + <p> + And I am a publisher, and did pay to one author's widow (General Grant's) + the largest copyright checks this world has seen—aggregating more + than L80,000 in the first year. + </p> + <p> + And I have been an author for 20 years and an ass for 55. + </p> + <p> + Now then; as the most valuable capital or culture or education usable in + the building of novels is personal experience I ought to be well equipped + for that trade. + </p> + <p> + I surely have the equipment, a wide culture, and all of it real, none of + it artificial, for I don't know anything about books. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [No signature.] +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Clemens for several years had been bothered by rheumatism in his + shoulder. The return now to the steady use of the pen aggravated + his trouble, and at times he was nearly disabled. The phonograph + for commercial dictation had been tried experimentally, and Mark + Twain was always ready for any innovation. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To W. D. Howells, in Boston: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HARTFORD, Feb. 28, '91. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR HOWELLS,—Won't you drop-in at the Boylston Building (New + England Phonograph Co) and talk into a phonograph in an ordinary + conversation-voice and see if another person (who didn't hear you do it) + can take the words from the thing without difficulty and repeat them to + you. If the experiment is satisfactory (also make somebody put in a + message which you don't hear, and see if afterward you can get it out + without difficulty) won't you then ask them on what terms they will rent + me a phonograph for 3 months and furnish me cylinders enough to carry + 75,000 words. 175 cylinders, ain't it? + </p> + <p> + I don't want to erase any of them. My right arm is nearly disabled by + rheumatism, but I am bound to write this book (and sell 100,000 copies of + it—no, I mean a million—next fall) I feel sure I can dictate + the book into a phonograph if I don't have to yell. I write 2,000 words a + day; I think I can dictate twice as many. + </p> + <p> + But mind, if this is going to be too much trouble to you—go ahead + and do it, all the same. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ys ever + MARK. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Howells, always willing to help, visited the phonograph place, and a + few days later reported results. He wrote: “I talked your letter + into a fonograf in my usual tone at my usual gait of speech. Then + the fonograf man talked his answer in at his wonted swing and swell. + Then we took the cylinder to a type-writer in the next room, and she + put the hooks into her ears and wrote the whole out. I send you the + result. There is a mistake of one word. I think that if you have + the cheek to dictate the story into the fonograf, all the rest is + perfectly easy. It wouldn't fatigue me to talk for an hour as I + did.” + + Clemens did not find the phonograph entirely satisfactory, at least + not for a time, and he appears never to have used it steadily. His + early experience with it, however, seems interesting. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To W. D. Howells, in Boston: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HARTFORD, Apl. 4, '91. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR HOWELLS,—I'm ashamed. It happened in this way. I was proposing + to acknowledge the receipt of the play and the little book per phonograph, + so that you could see that the instrument is good enough for mere + letter-writing; then I meant to add the fact that you can't write + literature with it, because it hasn't any ideas and it hasn't any gift for + elaboration, or smartness of talk, or vigor of action, or felicity of + expression, but is just matter-of-fact, compressive, unornamental, and as + grave and unsmiling as the devil. + </p> + <p> + I filled four dozen cylinders in two sittings, then found I could have + said about as much with the pen and said it a deal better. Then I + resigned. + </p> + <p> + I believe it could teach one to dictate literature to a phonographer—and + some time I will experiment in that line. + </p> + <p> + The little book is charmingly written, and it interested me. But it flies + too high for me. Its concretest things are filmy abstractions to me, and + when I lay my grip on one of them and open my hand, I feel as embarrassed + as I use to feel when I thought I had caught a fly. I'm going to try to + mail it back to you to-day—I mean I am going to charge my memory. + Charging my memory is one of my chief industries.... + </p> + <p> + With our loves and our kindest regards distributed among you according to + the proprieties. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yrs ever + MARK. +</pre> + <p> + P. S.—I'm sending that ancient “Mental Telegraphy” article to + Harper's—with a modest postscript. Probably read it to you years + ago. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + S. L. C. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The “little book” mentioned in this letter was by Swedenborg, an + author in whom the Boston literary set was always deeply interested. + “Mental Telegraphy” appeared in Harper's Magazine, and is now + included in the Uniform Edition of Mark Twain's books. It was + written in 1878. + + Joe Goodman had long since returned to California, it being clear + that nothing could be gained by remaining in Washington. On receipt + of the news of the type-setter's collapse he sent a consoling word. + Perhaps he thought Clemens would rage over the unhappy circumstance, + and possibly hold him in some measure to blame. But it was + generally the smaller annoyances of life that made Mark Twain rage; + the larger catastrophes were likely to stir only his philosophy. + + The Library of American Literature, mentioned in the following + letter, was a work in many volumes, edited by Edmund Clarence + Stedman and Ellen Mackay Hutchinson. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Joe T. Goodman: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + April [?] 1891. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR JOE, Well, it's all right, anyway. Diplomacy couldn't have saved it—diplomacy + of mine—at that late day. I hadn't any diplomacy in stock, anyway. + In order to meet Jones's requirements I had to surrender the old contract + (a contract which made me boss of the situation and gave me the whip-hand + of Paige) and allow the new one to be drafted and put in its place. I was + running an immense risk, but it was justified by Jones's promises—promises + made to me not merely once but every time I tallied with him. When + February arrived, I saw signs which were mighty plain reading. Signs which + meant that Paige was hoping and praying that Jones would go back on me—which + would leave Paige boss, and me robbed and out in the cold. His prayers + were answered, and I am out in the cold. If I ever get back my + nine-twentieths interest, it will be by law-suit—which will be + instituted in the indefinite future, when the time comes. + </p> + <p> + I am at work again—on a book. Not with a great deal of spirit, but + with enough—yes, plenty. And I am pushing my publishing house. It + has turned the corner after cleaning $50,000 a year for three consecutive + years, and piling every cent of it into one book—Library of American + Literature—and from next January onward it will resume dividends. + But I've got to earn $50,000 for it between now and then—which I + will do if I keep my health. This additional capital is needed for that + same book, because its prosperity is growing so great and exacting. + </p> + <p> + It is dreadful to think of you in ill health—I can't realize it; you + are always to me the same that you were in those days when matchless + health, and glowing spirits and delight in life were commonplaces with us. + Lord save us all from old age and broken health and a hope-tree that has + lost the faculty of putting out blossoms. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + With love to you both from us all. + MARK. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mark Twain's residence in Hartford was drawing rapidly to a close. + Mrs. Clemens was poorly, and his own health was uncertain. They + believed that some of the European baths would help them. + Furthermore, Mark Twain could no longer afford the luxury of his + Hartford home. In Europe life could be simpler and vastly cheaper. + He was offered a thousand dollars apiece for six European letters, + by the McClure syndicate and W. M. Laffan, of the Sun. This would + at least give him a start on the other side. The family began + immediately their sad arrangements for departure. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Fred J. Hall (manager Chas. L. Webster & Co.), N. Y.: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HARTFORD, Apl. 14, '91. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. HALL,—Privately—keep it to yourself—as you, are + already aware, we are going to Europe in June, for an indefinite stay. We + shall sell the horses and shut up the house. We wish to provide a place + for our coachman, who has been with us a 21 years, and is sober, active, + diligent, and unusually bright and capable. You spoke of hiring a colored + man as engineer and helper in the packing room. Patrick would soon learn + that trade and be very valuable. We will cease to need him by the middle + or end of June. Have you made irrevocable arrangements with the colored + man, or would you prefer to have Patrick, if he thinks he would like to + try? + </p> + <p> + I have not said anything to him about it yet. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yours + S. L. C. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It was to be a complete breaking up of their beautiful + establishment. Patrick McAleer, George the butler, and others of + their household help had been like members of the family. We may + guess at the heartbreak of it all, even though the letters remain + cheerful. + + Howells, strangely enough, seems to have been about the last one to + be told of their European plans; in fact, he first got wind of it + from the papers, and wrote for information. Likely enough Clemens + had not until then had the courage to confess. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To W. D. Howells, in Boston: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HARTFORD, May 20, '91. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR HOWELLS,—For her health's sake Mrs. Clemens must try baths + somewhere, and this it is that has determined us to go to Europe. The + water required seems to be provided at a little obscure and little-visited + nook up in the hills back of the Rhine somewhere and you get to it by + Rhine traffic-boat and country stage-coach. Come, get “sick or sorry + enough” and join us. We shall be a little while at that bath, and the rest + of the summer at Annecy (this confidential to you) in Haute Savoie, 22 + miles from Geneva. Spend the winters in Berlin. I don't know how long we + shall be in Europe—I have a vote, but I don't cast it. I'm going to + do whatever the others desire, with leave to change their mind, without + prejudice, whenever they want to. Travel has no longer, any charm for me. + I have seen all the foreign countries I want to see except heaven and + hell, and I have only a vague curiosity as concerns one of those. + </p> + <p> + I found I couldn't use the play—I had departed too far from its + lines when I came to look at it. I thought I might get a great deal of + dialogue out of it, but I got only 15 loosely written pages—they + saved me half a days work. It was the cursing phonograph. There was + abundance of good dialogue, but it couldn't befitted into the new + conditions of the story. + </p> + <p> + Oh, look here—I did to-day what I have several times in past years + thought of doing: answered an interviewing proposition from a rich + newspaper with the reminder that they had not stated the terms; that my + time was all occupied with writing, at good pay, and that as talking was + harder work I should not care to venture it unless I knew the pay was + going to be proportionately higher. I wish I had thought of this the other + day when Charley Stoddard turned a pleasant Englishman loose on me and I + couldn't think of any rational excuse. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ys Ever + MARK. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Clemens had finished his Sellers book and had disposed of the serial + rights to the McClure syndicate. The house in Hartford was closed + early in June, and on the 6th the family, with one maid, Katie + Leary, sailed on the Gascogne. Two weeks later they had begun a + residence abroad which was to last for more than nine years. + + It was not easy to get to work in Europe. Clemens's arm remained + lame, and any effort at writing brought suffering. The Century + Magazine proposed another set of letters, but by the end of July he + had barely begun on those promised to McClure and Laffan. In + August, however, he was able to send three: one from Aix about the + baths there, another from Bayreuth concerning the Wagner festival, + and a third from Marienbad, in Bohemia, where they rested for a + time. He decided that he would arrange for no more European letters + when the six were finished, but would gather material for a book. + He would take a courier and a kodak and go tramping again in some + fashion that would be interesting to do and to write. + + The idea finally matured when he reached Switzerland and settled the + family at the Hotel Beau Rivage, Ouchy, Lausanne, facing Lake Leman. + He decided to make a floating trip down the Rhone, and he engaged + Joseph Very, a courier that had served him on a former European + trip, to accompany him. The courier went over to Bourget and bought + for five dollars a flat-bottomed boat and engaged its owner as their + pilot. It was the morning of September 20, when they began their + floating-trip down the beautiful historic river that flows through + the loveliest and most romantic region of France. He wrote daily to + Mrs. Clemens, and his letters tell the story of that drowsy, happy + experience better than the notes made with a view to publication. + Clemens had arrived at Lake Bourget on the evening before the + morning of their start and slept on the Island of Chatillon, in an + old castle of the same name. Lake Bourget connects with the Rhone + by a small canal. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Letters and Memoranda to Mrs. Clemens, in Ouchy, Switzerland: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sept. 20, 1891. + + Sunday, 11 a.m. +</pre> + <p> + On the lake Bourget—just started. The castle of Chatillon high + overhead showing above the trees. It was a wonderfully still place to + sleep in. Beside us there was nobody in it but a woman, a boy and a dog. A + Pope was born in the room I slept in. No, he became a Pope later. + </p> + <p> + The lake is smooth as glass—a brilliant sun is shining. + </p> + <p> + Our boat is comfortable and shady with its awning. + </p> + <p> + 11.20 We have crossed the lake and are entering the canal. Shall presently + be in the Rhone. + </p> + <p> + Noon. Nearly down to the Rhone. Passing the village of Chanaz. + </p> + <p> + 3.15 p. m. Sunday. We have been in the Rhone 3 hours. It is unimaginably + still and reposeful and cool and soft and breezy. No rowing or work of any + kind to do—we merely float with the current—we glide noiseless + and swift—as fast as a London cab-horse rips along—8 miles an + hour—the swiftest current I've ever boated in. We have the entire + river to ourselves—nowhere a boat of any kind. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Good bye Sweetheart + S. L. C. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + PORT DE GROLEE, Monday, 4.15 p.m. + + [Sept. 21, 1891] +</pre> + <p> + Name of the village which we left five minutes ago. + </p> + <p> + We went ashore at 5 p. m. yesterday, dear heart, and walked a short mile + to St. Geuix, a big village, and took quarters at the principal inn; had a + good dinner and afterwards along walk out of town on the banks of the + Guiers till 7.30. + </p> + <p> + Went to bed at 8.30 and continued to make notes and read books and + newspapers till midnight. Slept until 8, breakfasted in bed, and lay till + noon, because there had been a very heavy rain in the night and the day + was still dark and lowering. But at noon the sun broke through and in 15 + minutes we were tramping toward the river. Got afloat at 1 p. m. but at + 2.40 we had to rush suddenly ashore and take refuge in the above village. + Just as we got ourselves and traps safely housed in the inn, the rain let + go and came down in great style. We lost an hour and a half there, but we + are off again, now, with bright sunshine. + </p> + <p> + I wrote you yesterday my darling, and shall expect to write you every day. + </p> + <p> + Good-day, and love to all of you. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SAML. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ON THE RHONE BELOW VILLEBOIS, + + Tuesday noon. +</pre> + <p> + Good morning, sweetheart. Night caught us yesterday where we had to take + quarters in a peasant's house which was occupied by the family and a lot + of cows and calves—also several rabbits.—[His word for fleas.]—The + latter had a ball, and I was the ball-room; but they were very friendly + and didn't bite. + </p> + <p> + The peasants were mighty kind and hearty, and flew around and did their + best to make us comfortable. This morning I breakfasted on the shore in + the open air with two sociable dogs and a cat. Clean cloth, napkin and + table furniture, white sugar, a vast hunk of excellent butter, good bread, + first class coffee with pure milk, fried fish just caught. Wonderful that + so much cleanliness should come out of such a phenomenally dirty house. + </p> + <p> + An hour ago we saw the Falls of the Rhone, a prodigiously rough and + dangerous looking place; shipped a little water but came to no harm. It + was one of the most beautiful pieces of piloting and boat-management I + ever saw. Our admiral knew his business. + </p> + <p> + We have had to run ashore for shelter every time it has rained heretofore, + but Joseph has been putting in his odd time making a water-proof + sun-bonnet for the boat, and now we sail along dry although we had many + heavy showers this morning. + </p> + <p> + With a word of love to you all and particularly you, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SAML. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ON THE RHONE, BELOW VIENNA. +</pre> + <p> + I salute you, my darling. Your telegram reached me in Lyons last night and + was very pleasant news indeed. + </p> + <p> + I was up and shaved before 8 this morning, but we got delayed and didn't + sail from Lyons till 10.30—an hour and a half lost. And we've lost + another hour—two of them, I guess—since, by an error. We came + in sight of Vienne at 2 o'clock, several miles ahead, on a hill, and I + proposed to walk down there and let the boat go ahead of us. So Joseph and + I got out and struck through a willow swamp along a dim path, and by and + by came out on the steep bank of a slough or inlet or something, and we + followed that bank forever and ever trying to get around the head of that + slough. Finally I noticed a twig standing up in the water, and by George + it had a distinct and even vigorous quiver to it! I don't know when I have + felt so much like a donkey. On an island! I wanted to drown somebody, but + I hadn't anybody I could spare. However, after another long tramp we found + a lonely native, and he had a scow and soon we were on the mainland—yes, + and a blamed sight further from Vienne than we were when we started. + </p> + <p> + Notes—I make millions of them; and so I get no time to write to you. + If you've got a pad there, please send it poste-restante to Avignon. I may + not need it but I fear I shall. + </p> + <h3> + I'm straining to reach St. Pierre de Boef, but it's going to be a close + fit, I reckon. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + AFLOAT, Friday, 3 p.m., '91. +</pre> + <p> + Livy darling, we sailed from St. Pierre de Boef six hours ago, and are now + approaching Tournon, where we shall not stop, but go on and make Valence, + a City Of 25,000 people. It's too delicious, floating with the swift + current under the awning these superb sunshiny days in deep peace and + quietness. Some of these curious old historical towns strangely persuade + me, but it is so lovely afloat that I don't stop, but view them from the + outside and sail on. We get abundance of grapes and peaches for next to + nothing. + </p> + <p> + Joseph is perfect. He is at his very best—and never was better in + his life. I guess he gets discouraged and feels disliked and in the way + when he is lying around—but here he is perfection, and brim full of + useful alacrities and helps and ingenuities. + </p> + <p> + When I woke up an hour ago and heard the clock strike 4, I said “I seem to + have been asleep an immensely long time; I must have gone to bed mighty + early; I wonder what time I did go to bed.” And I got up and lit a candle + and looked at my watch to see. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + AFLOAT + + 2 HOURS BELOW BOURG ST. ANDEOL. + + Monday, 11 a.m., Sept. 28. +</pre> + <p> + Livy darling, I didn't write yesterday. We left La Voulte in a driving + storm of cold rain—couldn't write in it—and at 1 p. m. when we + were not thinking of stopping, we saw a picturesque and mighty ruin on a + high hill back of a village, and I was seized with a desire to explore it; + so we landed at once and set out with rubbers and umbrella, sending the + boat ahead to St. Andeol, and we spent 3 hours clambering about those + cloudy heights among those worn and vast and idiotic ruins of a castle + built by two crusaders 650 years ago. The work of these asses was full of + interest, and we had a good time inspecting, examining and scrutinizing + it. All the hills on both sides of the Rhone have peaks and precipices, + and each has its gray and wasted pile of mouldy walls and broken towers. + The Romans displaced the Gauls, the Visigoths displaced the Romans, the + Saracens displaced the Visigoths, the Christians displaced the Saracens, + and it was these pious animals who built these strange lairs and cut each + other's throats in the name and for the glory of God, and robbed and + burned and slew in peace and war; and the pauper and the slave built + churches, and the credit of it went to the Bishop who racked the money out + of them. These are pathetic shores, and they make one despise the human + race. + </p> + <p> + We came down in an hour by rail, but I couldn't get your telegram till + this morning, for it was Sunday and they had shut up the post office to go + to the circus. I went, too. It was all one family—parents and 5 + children—performing in the open air to 200 of these enchanted + villagers, who contributed coppers when called on. It was a most gay and + strange and pathetic show. I got up at 7 this morning to see the poor + devils cook their poor breakfast and pack up their sordid fineries. + </p> + <p> + This is a 9 k-m. current and the wind is with us; we shall make Avignon + before 4 o'clock. I saw watermelons and pomegranates for sale at St. + Andeol. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + With a power of love, Sweetheart, + SAML. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HOTEL D'EUROPE, AVIGNON, + + Monday, 6 p.m., Sept. 28. +</pre> + <p> + Well, Livy darling, I have been having a perfect feast of letters for an + hour, and I thank you and dear Clam with all my heart. It's like hearing + from home after a long absence. + </p> + <p> + It is early to be in bed, but I'm always abed before 9, on this voyage; + and up at 7 or a trifle later, every morning. If I ever take such a trip + again, I will have myself called at the first tinge of dawn and get to sea + as soon after as possible. The early dawn on the water-nothing can be + finer, as I know by old Mississippi experience. I did so long for you and + Sue yesterday morning—the most superb sunrise!—the most + marvelous sunrise! and I saw it all from the very faintest suspicion of + the coming dawn all the way through to the final explosion of glory. But + it had interest private to itself and not to be found elsewhere in the + world; for between me and it, in the far distant-eastward, was a + silhouette mountain-range in which I had discovered, the previous + afternoon, a most noble face upturned to the sky, and mighty form out + stretched, which I had named Napoleon Dreaming of Universal Empire—and + now, this prodigious face, soft, rich, blue, spirituelle, asleep, + tranquil, reposeful, lay against that giant conflagration of ruddy and + golden splendors all rayed like a wheel with the upstreaming and + far-reaching lances of the sun. It made one want to cry for delight, it + was so supreme in its unimaginable majesty and beauty. + </p> + <p> + We had a curious experience today. A little after I had sealed and + directed my letter to you, in which I said we should make Avignon before + 4, we got lost. We ceased to encounter any village or ruin mentioned in + our “particularizes” and detailed Guide of the Rhone—went drifting + along by the hour in a wholly unknown land and on an uncharted river! + Confound it, we stopped talking and did nothing but stand up in the boat + and search the horizons with the glass and wonder what in the devil had + happened. And at last, away yonder at 5 o'clock when some east towers and + fortresses hove in sight we couldn't recognize them for Avignon—yet + we knew by the broken bridge that it was Avignon. + </p> + <p> + Then we saw what the trouble was—at some time or other we had + drifted down the wrong side of an island and followed a sluggish branch of + the Rhone not frequented in modern times. We lost an hour and a half by it + and missed one of the most picturesque and gigantic and history-sodden + masses of castellated medieval ruin that Europe can show. + </p> + <p> + It was dark by the time we had wandered through the town and got the + letters and found the hotel—so I went to bed. + </p> + <p> + We shall leave here at noon tomorrow and float down to Arles, arriving + about dark, and there bid good bye to the boat, the river-trip finished. + Between Arles and Nimes (and Avignon again,) we shall be till Saturday + morning—then rail it through on that day to Ouchy, reaching the + hotel at 11 at night if the train isn't late. + </p> + <p> + Next day (Sunday) if you like, go to Basel, and Monday to Berlin. But I + shall be at your disposal, to do exactly as you desire and prefer. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + With no end of love to all of you and twice as much to you, + sweetheart, + SAML. +</pre> + <p> + I believe my arm is a trifle better than it was when I started. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The mention in the foregoing letter of the Napoleon effigy is the + beginning of what proved to be a rather interesting episode. Mark + Twain thought a great deal of his discovery, as he called it—the + giant figure of Napoleon outlined by the distant mountain range. + In his note-book he entered memoranda telling just where it was to + be seen, and added a pencil sketch of the huge profile. But then he + characteristically forgot all about it, and when he recalled the + incident ten years later, he could not remember the name of the + village, Beauchastel, from which the great figure could be seen; + also, that he had made a record of the place. + + But he was by this time more certain than ever that his discovery + was a remarkable one, which, if known, would become one of the great + natural wonders, such as Niagara Falls. Theodore Stanton was + visiting him at the time, and Clemens urged him, on his return to + France, to make an excursion to the Rhone and locate the Lost + Napoleon, as he now called it. But Clemens remembered the wonder as + being somewhere between Arles and Avignon, instead of about a + hundred miles above the last-named town. Stanton naturally failed + to find it, and it remained for the writer of these notes, motoring + up the Rhone one September day, exactly twenty-two years after the + first discovery, to re-locate the vast reclining figure of the first + consul of France, “dreaming of Universal Empire.” The re-discovery + was not difficult—with Mark Twain's memoranda as a guide—and it + was worth while. Perhaps the Lost Napoleon is not so important a + natural wonder as Mark Twain believed, but it is a striking picture, + and on a clear day the calm blue face outlined against the sky will + long hold the traveler's attention. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Clara Clemens, in Ouchy, Switzerland: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + AFLOAT, 11.20 a.m., Sept. 29, Tuesday. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR OLD BEN,—The vast stone masses and huge towers of the ancient + papal palace of Avignon are projected above an intervening wooded island a + mile up the river behind me—for we are already on our way to Arles. + It is a perfectly still morning, with a brilliant sun, and very hot—outside; + but I am under cover of the linen hood, and it is cool and shady in here. + </p> + <p> + Please tell mamma I got her very last letter this morning, and I perceive + by it that I do not need to arrive at Ouchy before Saturday midnight. I am + glad, because I couldn't do the railroading I am proposing to do during + the next two or three days and get there earlier. I could put in the time + till Sunday midnight, but shall not venture it without telegraphic + instructions from her to Nimes day after tomorrow, Oct. 1, care Hotel + Manivet. + </p> + <p> + The only adventures we have is in drifting into rough seas now and then. + They are not dangerous, but they go thro' all the motions of it. Yesterday + when we shot the Bridge of the Holy Spirit it was probably in charge of + some inexperienced deputy spirit for the day, for we were allowed to go + through the wrong arch, which brought us into a tourbillon below which + tried to make this old scow stand on its head. Of course I lost my temper + and blew it off in a way to be heard above the roar of the tossing waters. + I lost it because the admiral had taken that arch in deference to my + opinion that it was the best one, while his own judgment told him to take + the one nearest the other side of the river. I could have poisoned him I + was so mad to think I had hired such a turnip. A boatman in command should + obey nobody's orders but his own, and yield to nobody's suggestions. + </p> + <p> + It was very sweet of you to write me, dear, and I thank you ever so much. + With greatest love and kisses, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + PAPA. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Mrs. Clemens, in Ouchy, Switzerland: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ARLES, Sept. 30, noon. +</pre> + <p> + Livy darling, I hain't got no time to write today, because I am sight + seeing industriously and imagining my chapter. + </p> + <p> + Bade good-bye to the river trip and gave away the boat yesterday evening. + We had ten great days in her. + </p> + <p> + We reached here after dark. We were due about 4.30, counting by distance, + but we couldn't calculate on such a lifeless current as we found. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I love you, sweetheart. + SAML. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It had been a long time since Clemens had written to his old friend + Twichell, but the Rhone trip must have reminded him of those days + thirteen years earlier, when, comparatively young men, he and + Twichell were tramping through the Black Forest and scaling Gemmi + Pass. He sent Twichell a reminder of that happy time. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Rev. Joseph H. Twichell, in Hartford, Conn: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + NIMES, Oct. 1, '91. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR JOE,—I have been ten days floating down the Rhone on a raft, + from Lake Bourget, and a most curious and darling kind of a trip it has + been. You ought to have been along—I could have made room for you + easily—and you would have found that a pedestrian tour in Europe + doesn't begin with a raft-voyage for hilarity and mild adventure, and + intimate contact with the unvisited native of the back settlements, and + extinction from the world and newspapers, and a conscience in a state of + coma, and lazy comfort, and solid happiness. In fact there's nothing + that's so lovely. + </p> + <p> + But it's all over. I gave the raft away yesterday at Arles, and am loafing + along back by short stages on the rail to Ouchy-Lausanne where the tribe + are staying. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Love to you all + MARK. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The Clemenses settled in Berlin for the winter, at 7 Kornerstrasse, + and later at the Hotel Royal. There had been no permanent + improvement in Mark Twain's arm and he found writing difficult. + Some of the letters promised to Laffan and McClure were still + unfinished. + + Young Hall, his publishing manager in America, was working hard to + keep the business afloat, and being full of the optimism of his + years did not fail to make as good a showing as he could. We may + believe his letters were very welcome to Clemens and his wife, who + found little enough in the general prospect to comfort them. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Mr. Hall, in New York: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + BERLIN, Nov. 27, '91. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. HALL,—That kind of a statement is valuable. It came this + morning. This is the first time since the business began that I have had a + report that furnished the kind of information I wanted, and was really + enlightening and satisfactory. Keep it up. Don't let it fall into + desuetude. + </p> + <p> + Everything looks so fine and handsome with the business, now, that I feel + a great let-up from depression. The rewards of your long and patient + industry are on their way, and their arrival safe in port, presently, + seems assured. + </p> + <p> + By George, I shall be glad when the ship comes in! + </p> + <p> + My arm is so much better that I was able to make a speech last night to + 250 Americans. But when they threw my portrait on the screen it was a + sorrowful reminder, for it was from a negative of 15 years ago, and hadn't + a gray hair in it. And now that my arm is better, I have stolen a couple + of days and finished up a couple of McClure letters that have been lying a + long time. + </p> + <p> + I shall mail one of them to you next Tuesday—registered. Lookout for + it. + </p> + <p> + I shall register and mail the other one (concerning the “Jungfrau”) next + Friday look out for it also, and drop me a line to let me know they have + arrived. + </p> + <p> + I shall write the 6th and last letter by and by when I have studied Berlin + sufficiently. + </p> + <p> + Yours in a most cheerful frame of mind, and with my and all the family's + Thanksgiving greetings and best wishes, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Postscript by Mrs. Clemens written on Mr. Clemens's letter: +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. HALL,—This is my birthday and your letter this morning was + a happy addition to the little gifts on the breakfast table. I thought of + going out and spending money for something unnecessary after it came, but + concluded perhaps I better wait a little longer. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sincerely yours + O. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “The German Chicago” was the last of the six McClure letters and was + finished that winter in Berlin. It is now included in the Uniform + Edition of Mark Twain's works, and is one of the best descriptive + articles of the German capital ever written. He made no use of the + Rhone notes further than to put them together in literary form. + They did not seem to him to contain enough substance to warrant + publication. A letter to Hall, written toward the end of December, + we find rather gloomy in tone, though he is still able to extract + comfort and even cheerfulness from one of Mr. Hall's reports. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Memorandum to Fred J. Hall, in New York: +</pre> + <p> + Among the MSS I left with you are a few that have a recent look and are + written on rather stiff pale green paper. If you will have those + type-writered and keep the originals and send me the copies (one per mail, + not two.) I'll see if I can use them. + </p> + <p> + But tell Howells and other inquirers that my hopes of writing anything are + very slender—I seem to be disabled for life. + </p> + <p> + Drop McClure a line and tell him the same. I can't dare to make an + engagement now for even a single letter. + </p> + <p> + I am glad Howells is on a magazine, but sorry he gave up the Study. I + shall have to go on a magazine myself if this L. A. L. continues to hold + my nose down to the grind-stone much longer. + </p> + <p> + I'm going to hold my breath, now, for 30 days—then the annual + statement will arrive and I shall know how we feel! Merry Xmas to you from + us all. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sincerely, + S. L. C. +</pre> + <p> + P. S. Just finished the above and finished raging at the eternal German + tax-gatherer, and so all the jubilant things which I was going to say + about the past year's business got knocked out of me. After writing this + present letter I was feeling blue about Huck Finn, but I sat down and + overhauled your reports from now back to last April and compared them with + the splendid Oct.-Nov. business, and went to bed feeling refreshed and + fine, for certainly it has been a handsome year. Now rush me along the + Annual Report and let's see how we feel! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + S. L. C. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXII. LETTERS, 1892, CHIEFLY TO MR. HALL AND MRS. CRANE. IN BERLIN, + MENTONE, BAD-NAUHEIM, FLORENCE. + </h2> + <p> + Mark Twain was the notable literary figure in Berlin that winter, the + center of every great gathering. He was entertained by the Kaiser, and + shown many special attentions by Germans of every rank. His books were as + well known in Berlin as in New York, and at court assemblies and embassies + he was always a chief center of interest. + </p> + <p> + He was too popular for his own good; the gaiety of the capital told on + him. Finally, one night, after delivering a lecture in a hot room, he + contracted a severe cold, driving to a ball at General von Versen's, and a + few days later was confined to his bed with pneumonia. It was not a severe + attack, but it was long continued. He could write some letters and even + work a little, but he was not allowed to leave his bed for many weeks, a + condition which he did not find a hardship, for no man ever enjoyed the + loose luxury of undress and the comfort of pillows more than Mark Twain. + In a memorandum of that time he wrote: “I am having a booming time all to + myself.” + </p> + <p> + Meantime, Hall, in America, was sending favorable reports of the + publishing business, and this naturally helped to keep up his spirits. He + wrote frequently to Hall, of course, but the letters for the most part are + purely of a business nature and of little interest to the general reader. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Fred J. Hall, in New York: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HOTEL ROYAL, BERLIN, Feb. 12. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. HALL,—Daly wants to get the stage rights of the “American + Claimant.” The foundation from which I wrote the story is a play of the + same name which has been in A. P. Burbank's hands 5 or 6 years. That play + cost me some money (helping Burbank stage it) but has never brought me + any. I have written Burbank (Lotos Club) and asked him to give me back his + rights in the old play so that I can treat with Daly and utilize this + chance to even myself up. Burbank is a lovely fellow, and if he objects I + can't urge him. But you run in at the Lotos and see him; and if he + relinquishes his claim, then I would like you to conduct the business with + Daly; or have Whitford or some other lawyer do it under your supervision + if you prefer. + </p> + <p> + This morning I seem to have rheumatism in my right foot. + </p> + <p> + I am ordered south by the doctor and shall expect to be well enough to + start by the end of this month. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [No signature.] +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It is curious, after Clemens and Howells had tried so hard and so + long to place their “Sellers” Play, that now, when the story + appeared in book form, Augustin Daly should have thought it worth + dramatizing. Daly and Clemens were old friends, and it would seem + that Daly could hardly have escaped seeing the play when it was + going the rounds. But perhaps there is nothing more mysterious in + the world than the ways and wants of theatrical managers. The + matter came to nothing, of course, but the fact that Daly should + have thought a story built from an old discarded play had a play in + it seems interesting. + + Clemens and his wife were advised to leave the cold of Berlin as + soon as he was able to travel. This was not until the first of + March, when, taking their old courier, Joseph Very, they left the + children in good hands and journeyed to the south of France. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Susy Clemens, in Berlin: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MENTONE, Mch 22, '92. +</pre> + <p> + SUSY DEAR,—I have been delighted to note your easy facility with + your pen and proud to note also your literary superiorities of one kind + and another—clearness of statement, directness, felicity of + expression, photographic ability in setting forth an incident—style—good + style—no barnacles on it in the way of unnecessary, retarding words + (the Shipman scrapes off the barnacles when he wants his racer to go her + best gait and straight to the buoy.) You should write a letter every day, + long or short—and so ought I, but I don't. + </p> + <p> + Mamma says, tell Clara yes, she will have to write a note if the fan comes + back mended. + </p> + <p> + We couldn't go to Nice to-day—had to give it up, on various accounts—and + this was the last chance. I am sorry for Mamma—I wish she could have + gone. She got a heavy fall yesterday evening and was pretty stiff and lame + this morning, but is working it off trunk packing. + </p> + <p> + Joseph is gone to Nice to educate himself in Kodaking—and to get the + pictures mounted which Mamma thinks she took here; but I noticed she + didn't take the plug out, as a rule. When she did, she took nine pictures + on top of each other—composites. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + With lots of love. + PAPA. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In the course of their Italian wanderings they reached Florence, + where they were so comfortable and well that they decided to engage + a villa for the next winter. Through Prof. Willard Fiske, they + discovered the Villa Viviani, near Settignano, an old palace + beautifully located on the hilltops east of Florence, commanding a + wonderful view of the ancient city. Clemens felt that he could work + there, and time proved that he was right. + + For the summer, however, they returned to Germany, and located at + Bad-Nauheim. Clemens presently decided to make a trip to America to + give some personal attention to business matters. For one thing, + his publishing-house, in spite of prosperity, seemed constantly to + be requiring more capital, and then a Chicago company had been + persuaded by Paige to undertake the manufacture of the type-setter. + It was the beginning of a series of feverish trips which he would + make back and forth across the ocean during the next two years. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Fred J. Hall, in New York: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + BAD-NAUHEIM, June 11, '92. + + Saturday. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. HALL,—If this arrives before I do, let it inform you that I + am leaving Bremen for New York next Tuesday in the “Havel.” + </p> + <p> + If you can meet me when the ship arrives, you can help me to get away from + the reporters; and maybe you can take me to your own or some other + lodgings where they can't find me. + </p> + <p> + But if the hour is too early or too late for you, I shall obscure myself + somewhere till I can come to the office. + </p> + <p> + Yours sincerely S. L. C. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Nothing of importance happened in America. The new Paige company + had a factory started in Chicago and expected to manufacture fifty + machines as a beginning. They claimed to have capital, or to be + able to command it, and as the main control had passed from + Clemens's hands, he could do no more than look over the ground and + hope for the best. As for the business, about all that he could do + was to sign certain notes necessary to provide such additional + capital as was needed, and agree with Hall that hereafter they would + concentrate their efforts and resist further temptation in the way + of new enterprise. Then he returned to Bad-Nauheim and settled down + to literature. This was the middle of July, and he must have worked + pretty steadily, for he presently had a variety of MSS. ready to + offer. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Fred J. Hall, in New York: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Aug. 10, '92. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. HALL,—I have dropped that novel I wrote you about, because + I saw a more effective way of using the main episode—to wit: by + telling it through the lips of Huck Finn. So I have started Huck Finn and + Tom Sawyer (still 15 years old) and their friend the freed slave Jim + around the world in a stray balloon, with Huck as narrator, and somewhere + after the end of that great voyage he will work in the said episode and + then nobody will suspect that a whole book has been written and the globe + circumnavigated merely to get that episode in an effective (and at the + same time apparently unintentional) way. I have written 12,000 words of + this narrative, and find that the humor flows as easily as the adventures + and surprises—so I shall go along and make a book of from 50,000 to + 100,000 words. + </p> + <p> + It is a story for boys, of course, and I think will interest any boy + between 8 years and 80. + </p> + <p> + When I was in New York the other day Mrs. Dodge, editor of St. Nicholas, + wrote and, offered me $5,000 for (serial right) a story for boys 50,000 + words long. I wrote back and declined, for I had other matter in my mind, + then. + </p> + <p> + I conceive that the right way to write a story for boys is to write so + that it will not only interest boys but will also strongly interest any + man who has ever been a boy. That immensely enlarges the audience. + </p> + <p> + Now this story doesn't need to be restricted to a Childs magazine—it + is proper enough for any magazine, I should think, or for a syndicate. I + don't swear it, but I think so. + </p> + <p> + Proposed title of the story, “New Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [No signature.] +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The “novel” mentioned in the foregoing was The Extraordinary Twins, + a story from which Pudd'nhead Wilson would be evolved later. It was + a wildly extravagant farce—just the sort of thing that now and then + Mark Twain plunged into with an enthusiasm that had to work itself + out and die a natural death, or mellow into something worth while. + Tom Sawyer Abroad, as the new Huck story was finally called, was + completed and disposed of to St. Nicholas for serial publication. + + The Twichells were in Europe that summer, and came to Bad-Nauheim. + The next letter records a pleasant incident. The Prince of Wales of + that day later became King Edward VII. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Mr. and Mrs. Orion Clemens, in Keokuk, Iowa.: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Private. BAD-NAUHEIM, Aug. 23, '92. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR ORION AND MOLLIE,—(“Private” because no newspaper-man or other + gossip must get hold of it) + </p> + <p> + Livy is getting along pretty well, and the doctor thinks another summer + here will cure her. + </p> + <p> + The Twichell's have been here four days and we have had good times with + them. Joe and I ran over to Homburg, the great pleasure resort, Saturday, + to dine with some friends, and in the morning I went walking in the + promenade and met the British Ambassador to the Court of Berlin, and he + introduced me to the Prince of Wales, and I found him a most unusually + comfortable and unembarrassing Englishman to talk with—quick to see + the obscurest point, and equipped with a laugh which is spontaneous and + catching. Am invited by a near friend of his to meet him at dinner day + after tomorrow, and there could be a good time, but the brass band will + smash the talk and spoil everything. + </p> + <p> + We are expecting to move to Florence ten or twelve days hence, but if this + hot weather continues we shall wait for cooler. I take Clara to Berlin for + the winter-music, mainly, with German and French added. Thus far, Jean is + our only glib French scholar. + </p> + <p> + We all send love to you all and to Pamela and Sam's family, and Annie. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SAM +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Clemens and family left Bad-Nauheim for Italy by way of Switzerland. + In September Mrs. Clemens's sister, Mrs. Crane, who had been with + them in Europe during the first year, had now returned to America. + Mrs. Clemens had improved at the baths, though she had by no means + recovered her health. We get a general report of conditions from + the letter which Clemens wrote Mrs. Crane from Lucerne, Switzerland, + where the party rested for several days. The “Phelps” mentioned in + this letter was William Walter Phelps, United States Minister to + Germany. The Phelps and Clemens families had been much associated + in Berlin. “Mason” was Frank Mason, Consul General at Frankfort, + and in later years at Paris. “Charlie and Ida” were Charles and + Mrs. Langdon, of Elmira. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Mrs. Crane, in Elmira, N. Y.: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + LUCERNE, Sept. 18, '92. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR AUNT SUE,—Imagine how I felt to find that you had actually gone + off without filling my traveling ink stand which you gave me! I found it + out yesterday. Livy advised me to write you about it. + </p> + <p> + I have been driving this pen hard. I wrote 280 pages on a yarn called “Tom + Sawyer Abroad,” then took up the “Twins” again, destroyed the last half of + the manuscript and re-wrote it in another form, and am going to continue + it and finish it in Florence. “Tom Sawyer” seems rather pale to the family + after the extravagances of the Twins, but they came to like it after they + got used to it. + </p> + <p> + We remained in Nauheim a little too long. If we had left there four or + five days earlier we should have made Florence in 3 days; but by the time + we got started Livy had got smitten with what we feared might be + erysipelas—greatly swollen neck and face, and unceasing headaches. + We lay idle in Frankfort 4 days, doctoring. We started Thursday and made + Bale. Hard trip, because it was one of those trains that gets tired every + seven minutes and stops to rest three quarters of an hour. It took us 3 + 1/2 hours to get here, instead of the regulation 2.20. We reached here + Friday evening and will leave tomorrow (Tuesday) morning. The rest has + made the headaches better. We shall pull through to Milan tomorrow if + possible. Next day we shall start at 10 a. m., and try to make Bologna, 5 + hours. Next day (Thursday) Florence, D. V. Next year we will walk, for + these excursions have got to be made over again. I've got seven trunks, + and I undertook to be courier because I meant to express them to Florence + direct, but we were a couple of days too late. All continental roads had + issued a peremptory order that no baggage should travel a mile except in + the company of the owner. (All over Europe people are howling; they are + separated from their baggage and can't get it forwarded to them) I have to + re-ship my trunks every day. It is very amusing—uncommonly so. There + seemed grave doubts about our being able to get these trunks over the + Italian frontier, but I've got a very handsome note from the Frankfort + Italian Consul General addressed to all Italian Customs Officers, and we + shall get through if anybody does. + </p> + <p> + The Phelpses came to Frankfort and we had some great times—dinner at + his hotel, the Masons, supper at our inn—Livy not in it. She was + merely allowed a glimpse, no more. Of course, Phelps said she was merely + pretending to be ill; was never looking so well and fine. + </p> + <p> + The children are all right. They paddle around a little, and drive-so do + we all. Lucerne seems to be pretty full of tourists. The Fleulen boat went + out crowded yesterday morning. + </p> + <p> + The Paris Herald has created a public interest by inoculating one of its + correspondents with cholera. A man said yesterday he wished to God they + would inoculate all of them. Yes, the interest is quite general and + strong, and much hope is felt. + </p> + <p> + Livy says, I have said enough bad things, and better send all our loves to + you and Charley and Ida and all the children and shut up. Which I do—and + shut up. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + S. L. C. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + They reached Florence on the 26th, and four days later we find + Clemens writing again to Mrs. Crane, detailing everything at length. + Little comment on this letter is required; it fully explains itself. + Perhaps a word of description from one of his memoranda will not be + out of place. Of the villa he wrote: “It is a plain, square + building, like a box, and is painted light green and has green + window-shutters. It stands in a commanding position on the + artificial terrace of liberal dimensions, which is walled around + with masonry. From the walls the vineyards and olive groves of the + estate slant away toward the valley.... Roses overflow the + retaining walls and the battered and mossy stone urn on the + gate-post, in pink and yellow cataracts, exactly as they do on the + drop-curtains in the theaters. The house is a very fortress for + strength.” + + The Mrs. Ross in this letter was Janet Ross, daughter of Lady Duff + Gordon, remembered to-day for her Egyptian letters. The Ross castle + was but a little distance away. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Mrs. Crane, in Elmira: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + VILLA VIVIANI, SETTIGNANO, FLORENCE. + + Sept. 30, 1892 +</pre> + <p> + DEAR SUE,—We have been in the house several days, and certainly it + is a beautiful place,—particularly at this moment, when the skies + are a deep leaden color, the domes of Florence dim in the drizzling rain, + and occasional perpendicular coils of lightning quivering intensely in the + black sky about Galileo's Tower. It is a charming panorama, and the most + conspicuous towers and domes down in the city look to-day just as they + looked when Boccaccio and Dante used to contemplate them from this hillock + five and six hundred years ago. + </p> + <p> + The Mademoiselle is a great help to Livy in the housekeeping, and is a + cheery and cheerful presence in the house. The butler is equipped with a + little French, and it is this fact that enables the house to go—but + it won't go well until the family get some sort of facility with the + Italian tongue, for the cook, the woman-of-all-work and the coachman + understand only that. It is a stubborn and devilish language to learn, but + Jean and the others will master it. Livy's German Nauheim girl is the + worst off of anybody, as there is no market for her tongue at all among + the help. + </p> + <p> + With the furniture in and the curtains up the house is very pretty, and + not unhomelike. At mid-night last night we heard screams up stairs—Susy + had set the lofty window curtains afire with a candle. This sounds kind of + frightful, whereas when you come to think of it, a burning curtain or pile + of furniture hasn't any element of danger about it in this fortress. There + isn't any conceivable way to burn this house down, or enable a + conflagration on one floor to climb to the next. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ross laid in our wood, wine and servants for us, and they are + excellent. She had the house scoured from Cellar to rook the curtains + washed and put up, all beds pulled to pieces, beaten, washed and put + together again, and beguiled the Marchese into putting a big porcelain + stove in the vast central hall. She is a wonderful woman, and we don't + quite see how or when we should have gotten under way without her. + </p> + <p> + Observe our address above—the post delivers letters daily at the + house. + </p> + <p> + Even with the work and fuss of settling the house Livy has improved—and + the best is yet to come. There is going to be absolute seclusion here—a + hermit life, in fact. We (the rest of us) shall run over to the Ross's + frequently, and they will come here now and then and see Livy—that + is all. Mr. Fiske is away—nobody knows where—and the work on + his house has been stopped and his servants discharged. Therefore we shall + merely go Rossing—as far as society is concerned—shan't + circulate in Florence until Livy shall be well enough to take a share in + it. + </p> + <p> + This present house is modern. It is not much more than two centuries old; + but parts of it, and also its foundations are of high antiquity. The fine + beautiful family portraits—the great carved ones in the large ovals + over the doors of the big hall—carry one well back into the past. + One of them is dated 1305—he could have known Dante, you see. + Another is dated 1343—he could have known Boccaccio and spent his + afternoons in Fiesole listening to the Decameron tales. Another is dated + 1463—he could have met Columbus..... + </p> + <p> + Evening. The storm thundered away until night, and the rain came down in + floods. For awhile there was a partial break, which furnished about such a + sunset as will be exhibited when the Last Day comes and the universe + tumbles together in wreck and ruin. I have never seen anything more + spectacular and impressive. + </p> + <p> + One person is satisfied with the villa, anyway. Jean prefers it to all + Europe, save Venice. Jean is eager to get at the Italian tongue again, + now, and I see that she has forgotten little or nothing of what she + learned of it in Rome and Venice last spring. + </p> + <p> + I am the head French duffer of the family. Most of the talk goes over my + head at the table. I catch only words, not phrases. When Italian comes to + be substituted I shall be even worse off than I am now, I suppose. + </p> + <p> + This reminds me that this evening the German girl said to Livy, “Man hat + mir gesagt loss Sie una candella verlaught habe”—unconsciously + dropping in a couple of Italian words, you see. So she is going to join + the polyglots, too, it appears. They say it is good entertainment to hear + her and the butler talk together in their respective tongues, piecing out + and patching up with the universal sign-language as they go along. Five + languages in use in the house (including the sign-language-hardest-worked + of them all) and yet with all this opulence of resource we do seem to have + an uncommonly tough time making ourselves understood. + </p> + <p> + What we lack is a cat. If we only had Germania! That was the most + satisfactory all-round cat I have seen yet. Totally ungermanic in the + raciness of his character and in the sparkle of his mind and the + spontaneity of his movements. We shall not look upon his like again.... + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + S. L. C. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Clemens got well settled down to work presently. He found the + situation, the climate, the background, entirely suited to literary + production, and in a little while he had accomplished more than at + any other time since his arrival in Europe. From letters to Mrs. + Crane and to Mr. Hall we learn something of his employments and his + satisfaction. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Mrs. Crane, in Elmira: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + VILLA VIVIANI + + SETTIGNANO, FLORENCE. Oct. 22, '92. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR SUE,—We are getting wonted. The open fires have driven away the + cold and the doubt, and now a cheery spirit pervades the place. Livy and + the Kings and Mademoiselle having been taking their tea a number of times, + lately, on the open terrace with the city and the hills and the sunset for + company. I stop work, a few minutes, as a rule, when the sun gets down to + the hilltops west of Florence, and join the tea-group to wonder and + exclaim. There is always some new miracle in the view, a new and exquisite + variation in the show, a variation which occurs every 15 minutes between + dawn and night. Once early in the morning, a multitude of white villas not + before perceived, revealed themselves on the far hills; then we recognized + that all those great hills are snowed thick with them, clear to the + summit. + </p> + <p> + The variety of lovely effects, the infinitude of change, is something not + to be believed by any who has not seen it. No view that I am acquainted + with in the world is at all comparable to this for delicacy, charm, + exquisiteness, dainty coloring, and bewildering rapidity of change. It + keeps a person drunk with pleasure all the time. Sometimes Florence ceases + to be substantial, and becomes just a faint soft dream, with domes and + towers of air, and one is persuaded that he might blow it away with a puff + of his breath. + </p> + <p> + Livy is progressing admirably. This is just the place for her. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Remainder missing.] +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Fred J. Hall, in New York: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Dec. 12, '92. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. HALL,—November check received. + </p> + <p> + I have lent the Californian's Story to Arthur Stedman for his Author Club + Book, so your suggestion that my new spring-book bear that name arrives + too late, as he probably would not want us to use that story in a book of + ours until the Author book had had its run. That is for him to decide—and + I don't want him hampered at all in his decision. I, for my part, prefer + the “$1,000,000 Banknote and Other Stories” by Mark Twain as a title, but + above my judgment I prefer yours. I mean this—it is not taffy. + </p> + <p> + I told Arthur to leave out the former squib or paragraph and use only the + Californian's Story. Tell him this is because I am going to use that in + the book I am now writing. + </p> + <p> + I finished “Those Extraordinary Twins” night before last makes 60 or + 80,000 words—haven't counted. + </p> + <p> + The last third of it suits me to a dot. I begin, to-day, to entirely + recast and re-write the first two-thirds—new plan, with two minor + characters, made very prominent, one major character cropped out, and the + Twins subordinated to a minor but not insignificant place. + </p> + <p> + The minor character will now become the chiefest, and I will name the + story after him—“Puddn'head Wilson.” + </p> + <p> + Merry Xmas to you, and great prosperity and felicity! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXIII. LETTERS, 1893, TO MR. HALL, MRS. CLEMENS, AND OTHERS. FLORENCE. + BUSINESS TROUBLES. “PUDD'NHEAD WILSON.” “JOAN OF ARC.” AT THE PLAYERS, NEW + </h2> + <p> + YORK. + </p> + <p> + The reader may have suspected that young Mr. Hall in New York was having + his troubles. He was by this time one-third owner in the business of + Charles L. Webster & Co., as well as its general manager. The business + had been drained of its capital one way and another-partly by the + publication of unprofitable books; partly by the earlier demands of the + typesetter, but more than all by the manufacturing cost and agents' + commissions demanded by L. A. L.; that is to say, the eleven large volumes + constituting the Library of American Literature, which Webster had + undertaken to place in a million American homes. There was plenty of sale + for it—indeed, that was just the trouble; for it was sold on + payments—small monthly payments—while the cost of manufacture + and the liberal agents' commissions were cash items, and it would require + a considerable period before the dribble of collections would swell into a + tide large enough to satisfy the steady outflow of expense. A sale of + twenty-five sets a day meant prosperity on paper, but unless capital could + be raised from some other source to make and market those books through a + period of months, perhaps even years, to come, it meant bankruptcy in + reality. It was Hall's job, with Clemens to back him, to keep their ship + afloat on these steadily ebbing financial waters. It was also Hall's + affair to keep Mark Twain cheerful, to look pleasant himself, and to show + how they were steadily getting rich because orders were pouring in, though + a cloud that resembled bankruptcy loomed always a little higher upon the + horizon. If Hall had not been young and an optimist, he would have been + frightened out of his boots early in the game. As it was, he made a brave + steady fight, kept as cheerful and stiff an upper lip as possible, always + hoping that something would happen—some grand sale of his other + books, some unexpected inflow from the type-setter interests—anything + that would sustain his ship until the L. A. L. tide should turn and float + it into safety. + </p> + <p> + Clemens had faith in Hall and was fond of him. He never found fault with + him; he tried to accept his encouraging reports at their face value. He + lent the firm every dollar of his literary earnings not absolutely needed + for the family's support; he signed new notes; he allowed Mrs. Clemens to + put in such remnants of her patrimony as the type-setter had spared. + </p> + <p> + The situation in 1893 was about as here outlined. The letters to Hall of + that year are frequent and carry along the story. To any who had formed + the idea that Mark Twain was irascible, exacting, and faultfinding, they + will perhaps be a revelation. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Fred J. Hall, in New York: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FLORENCE, Jan. 1, '93. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. HALL,—Yours of Dec. 19 is to hand, and Mrs. Clemens is + deeply distressed, for she thinks I have been blaming you or finding fault + with you about something. But most surely that cannot be. I tell her that + although I am prone to write hasty and regrettable things to other people, + I am not a bit likely to write such things to you. I can't believe I have + done anything so ungrateful. If I have, pile coals of fire on my head, for + I deserve it! + </p> + <p> + I wonder if my letter of credit isn't an encumbrance? Do you have to + deposit the whole amount it calls for? If that is so, it is an + encumbrance, and we must withdraw it and take the money out of soak. I + have never made drafts upon it except when compelled, because I thought + you deposited nothing against it, and only had to put up money that I drew + upon it; that therefore the less I drew the easier it would be for you. + </p> + <p> + I am dreadfully sorry I didn't know it would be a help to you to let my + monthly check pass over a couple of months. I could have stood that by + drawing what is left of Mrs. Clemens's letter of credit, and we would have + done it cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + I will write Whitmore to send you the “Century” check for $1,000, and you + can collect Mrs. Dodge's $2,000 (Whitmore has power of attorney which I + think will enable him to endorse it over to you in my name.) If you need + that $3,000 put it in the business and use it, and send Whitmore the + Company's note for a year. If you don't need it, turn it over to Mr. + Halsey and let him invest it for me. + </p> + <p> + I've a mighty poor financial head, and I may be all wrong—but tell + me if I am wrong in supposing that in lending my own firm money at 6 per + cent I pay 4 of it myself and so really get only a per cent? Now don't + laugh if that is stupid. + </p> + <p> + Of course my friend declined to buy a quarter interest in the L. A. L. for + $200,000. I judged he would. I hoped he would offer $100,000, but he + didn't. If the cholera breaks out in America, a few months hence, we can't + borrow or sell; but if it doesn't we must try hard to raise $100,000. I + wish we could do it before there is a cholera scare. + </p> + <p> + I have been in bed two or three days with a cold, but I got up an hour + ago, and I believe I am all right again. + </p> + <p> + How I wish I had appreciated the need of $100,000 when I was in New York + last summer! I would have tried my best to raise it. It would make us able + to stand 1,000 sets of L. A. L. per month, but not any more, I guess. + </p> + <p> + You have done magnificently with the business, and we must raise the money + somehow, to enable you to reap the reward of all that labor. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sincerely Yours + + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> + <p> + “Whitmore,” in this letter, was F. G. Whitmore, of Hartford, Mark Twain's + financial agent. The money due from Mrs. Dodge was a balance on Tom Sawyer + Abroad, which had been accepted by St. Nicholas. Mr. Halsey was a + down-town broker. + </p> + <p> + Clemens, who was growing weary of the constant demands of L. A. L., had + conceived the idea that it would be well to dispose of a portion of it for + enough cash to finance its manufacture. + </p> + <p> + We don't know who the friend was to whom he offered a quarter interest for + the modest sum of two hundred thousand dollars. But in the next letter we + discover designs on a certain very canny Scotchman of Skibo. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Fred J. Hall, in New York: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FLORENCE, Jan. 28, '92. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. HALL,—I want to throw out a suggestion and see what you + think of it. We have a good start, and solid ground under us; we have a + valuable reputation; our business organization is practical, sound and + well-devised; our publications are of a respect-worthy character and of a + money-breeding species. Now then I think that the association with us of + some one of great name and with capital would give our business a + prodigious impetus—that phrase is not too strong. + </p> + <p> + As I look at it, it is not money merely that is needed; if that were all, + the firm has friends enough who would take an interest in a paying + venture; we need some one who has made his life a success not only from a + business standpoint, but with that achievement back of him, has been great + enough to make his power felt as a thinker and a literary man. It is a + pretty usual thing for publishers to have this sort of partners. Now you + see what a power Carnegie is, and how far his voice reaches in the several + lines I speak of. Do you know him? You do by correspondence or purely + business talks about his books—but personally, I mean? so that it + would not be an intrusion for you to speak to him about this desire of + mine—for I would like you to put it before him, and if you fail to + interest him in it, you will probably get at least some valuable + suggestions from him. I'll enclose a note of introduction—you + needn't use it if you don't need to. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yours S. L. C. +</pre> + <p> + P. S. Yes, I think I have already acknowledged the Dec. $1,000 and the + Jan. $500—and if another $500 was mailed 3 days ago there's no + hiatus. + </p> + <p> + I think I also reminded you that the new letter of credit does not cover + the unexpended balance of the old one but falls considerably short of it. + </p> + <p> + Do your best with Carnegie, and don't wait to consider any of my + intermediate suggestions or talks about our raising half of the $200,000 + ourselves. I mean, wait for nothing. To make my suggestion available I + should have to go over and see Arnot, and I don't want to until I can + mention Carnegie's name to him as going in with us. + </p> + <p> + My book is type-written and ready for print—“Pudd'nhead Wilson-a + Tale.” (Or, “Those Extraordinary Twins,” if preferable.) + </p> + <p> + It makes 82,500 words—12,000 more than Huck Finn. But I don't know + what to do with it. Mrs. Clemens thinks it wouldn't do to go to the Am. + Pub. Co. or anywhere outside of our own house; we have no subscription + machinery, and a book in the trade is a book thrown away, as far as + money-profit goes. I am in a quandary. Give me a lift out of it. + </p> + <p> + I will mail the book to you and get you to examine it and see if it is + good or if it is bad. I think it is good, and I thought the Claimant bad, + when I saw it in print; but as for real judgment, I think I am destitute + of it. + </p> + <p> + I am writing a companion to the Prince and Pauper, which is half done and + will make 200,000 words; and I have had the idea that if it were gotten up + in handsome style, with many illustrations and put at a high enough price + maybe the L. A. L. canvassers would take it and run it with that book. + Would they? It could be priced anywhere from $4 up to $10, according to + how it was gotten up, I suppose. + </p> + <p> + I don't want it to go into a magazine. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + S. L. C. +</pre> + <p> + I am having several short things type-“writered.” I will send them to you + presently. I like the Century and Harper's, but I don't know that I have + any business to object to the Cosmopolitan if they pay as good rates. I + suppose a man ought to stick to one magazine, but that may be only + superstition. What do you think? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + S. L. C. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “The companion to The Prince and the Pauper,” mentioned in this + letter, was the story of Joan of Arc, perhaps the most finished of + Mark Twain's literary productions. His interest in Joan had been + first awakened when, as a printer's apprentice in Hannibal, he had + found blowing along the street a stray leaf from some printed story + of her life. That fragment of history had pictured Joan in prison, + insulted and mistreated by ruffians. It had aroused all the + sympathy and indignation in the boy, Sam Clemens; also, it had + awakened his interest in history, and, indeed, in all literature. + + His love for the character of Joan had grown with the years, until + in time he had conceived the idea of writing her story. As far back + as the early eighties he had collected material for it, and had + begun to make the notes. One thing and another had interfered, and + he had found no opportunity for such a story. Now, however, in + Florence, in the ancient villa, and in the quiet garden, looking + across the vineyards and olive groves to the dream city along the + Arno, he felt moved to take up the tale of the shepherd girl of + France, the soldier maid, or, as he called her, “The noble child, + the most innocent, the most lovely, the most adorable the ages have + produced.” His surroundings and background would seem to have been + perfect, and he must have written with considerable ease to have + completed a hundred thousand words in a period of not more than six + weeks. + + Perhaps Hall did not even go to see Carnegie; at all events nothing + seems to have come of the idea. Once, at a later time, Mask Twain + himself mentioned the matter to Carnegie, and suggested to him that + it was poor financiering to put all of one's eggs into one basket, + meaning into iron. But Carnegie answered, “That's a mistake; put + all your eggs into one basket and watch that basket.” + + It was March when Clemens felt that once more his presence was + demanded in America. He must see if anything could be realized from + the type-setter or L. A. L. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Fred J. Hall, in New York: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + March 13, '93. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. HALL,—I am busy getting ready to sail the 22d, in the + Kaiser Wilhelm II. + </p> + <p> + I send herewith 2 magazine articles. + </p> + <p> + The Story contains 3,800 to 4,000 words. + </p> + <p> + The “Diary” contains 3,800 words. + </p> + <p> + Each would make about 4 pages of the Century. + </p> + <p> + The Diary is a gem, if I do say it myself that shouldn't. + </p> + <p> + If the Cosmopolitan wishes to pay $600 for either of them or $1,200 for + both, gather in the check, and I will use the money in America instead of + breaking into your treasury. + </p> + <p> + If they don't wish to trade for either, send the articles to the Century, + without naming a price, and if their check isn't large enough I will call + and abuse them when I come. + </p> + <p> + I signed and mailed the notes yesterday. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yours + S. L. C. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Clemens reached New York on the 3d of April and made a trip to + Chicago, but accomplished nothing, except to visit the World's Fair + and be laid up with a severe cold. The machine situation had not + progressed. The financial stringency of 1893 had brought everything + to a standstill. The New York bank would advance Webster & Co. no + more money. So disturbed were his affairs, so disordered was + everything, that sometimes he felt himself as one walking amid + unrealities. A fragment of a letter to Mrs. Crane conveys this: + + “I dreamed I was born and grew up and was a pilot on the Mississippi + and a miner and a journalist in Nevada and a pilgrim in the Quaker + City, and had a wife and children and went to live in a villa at + Florence—and this dream goes on and on and sometimes seems so real + that I almost believe it is real. I wonder if it is? But there is + no way to tell, for if one applies tests they would be part of the + dream, too, and so would simply aid the deceit. I wish I knew + whether it is a dream or real.” + + He saw Warner, briefly, in America; also Howells, now living in New + York, but he had little time for visiting. On May 13th he sailed + again for Europe on the Kaiser Wilhelm II. On the night before + sailing he sent Howells a good-by word. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To W. D. Howells, in New York City: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MURRAY HILL HOTEL, NEW YORE, May 12, 1893. + + Midnight. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR HOWELLS—I am so sorry I missed you. + </p> + <p> + I am very glad to have that book for sea entertainment, and I thank you + ever so much for it. + </p> + <p> + I've had a little visit with Warner at last; I was getting afraid I wasn't + going to have a chance to see him at all. I forgot to tell you how + thoroughly I enjoyed your account of the country printing office, and how + true it all was and how intimately recognizable in all its details. But + Warner was full of delight over it, and that reminded me, and I am glad, + for I wanted to speak of it. + </p> + <p> + You have given me a book; Annie Trumbull has sent me her book; I bought a + couple of books; Mr. Hall gave me a choice German book; Laflan gave me two + bottles of whisky and a box of cigars—I go to sea nobly equipped. + </p> + <p> + Good-bye and all good fortune attend you and yours—and upon you all + I leave my benediction. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MARK. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mention has already been made of the Ross home being very near to + Viviani, and the association of the Ross and Clemens families. + There was a fine vegetable garden on the Ross estate, and it was in + the interest of it that the next letter was written to the Secretary + of Agriculture. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Hon. J. Sterling Morton, in Washington, D. C.: Editorial Department + Century Magazine, Union Square, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + NEW YORK, April 6, 1893. +</pre> + <p> + TO THE HON. J. STERLING MORTON,—Dear Sir: Your petitioner, Mark + Twain, a poor farmer of Connecticut—indeed, the poorest one there, + in the opinion of many-desires a few choice breeds of seed corn (maize), + and in return will zealously support the Administration in all ways + honorable and otherwise. + </p> + <p> + To speak by the card, I want these things to hurry to Italy to an English + lady. She is a neighbor of mine outside of Florence, and has a great + garden and thinks she could raise corn for her table if she had the right + ammunition. I myself feel a warm interest in this enterprise, both on + patriotic grounds and because I have a key to that garden, which I got + made from a wax impression. It is not very good soil, still I think she + can grow enough for one table and I am in a position to select the table. + If you are willing to aid and abet a countryman (and Gilder thinks you + are,) please find the signature and address of your petitioner below. + </p> + <p> + Respectfully and truly yours. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MARK TWAIN, +</pre> + <p> + 67 Fifth Avenue, New York. + </p> + <p> + P. S.—A handful of choice (Southern) watermelon seeds would + pleasantly add to that lady's employments and give my table a + corresponding lift. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + His idea of business values had moderated considerably by the time + he had returned to Florence. He was not hopeless yet, but he was + clearly a good deal disheartened—anxious for freedom. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Fred J. Hall, in New York: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FLORENCE May 30, '93 +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. HALL,—You were to cable me if you sold any machine + royalties—so I judge you have not succeeded. + </p> + <p> + This has depressed me. I have been looking over the past year's letters + and statements and am depressed still more. + </p> + <p> + I am terribly tired of business. I am by nature and disposition unfitted + for it and I want to get out of it. I am standing on the Mount Morris + volcano with help from the machine a long way off—doubtless a long + way further off than the Connecticut Co. imagines. + </p> + <p> + Now here is my idea for getting out. + </p> + <p> + The firm owes Mrs. Clemens and me—I do not know quite how much, but + it is about $170,000 or $175,000, I suppose (I make this guess from the + documents here, whose technicalities confuse me horribly.) + </p> + <p> + The firm owes other sums, but there is stock and cash assets to cover the + entire indebtedness and $116,679.20 over. Is that it? In addition we have + the L. A. L. plates and copyright, worth more than $130,000—is that + correct? + </p> + <p> + That is to say, we have property worth about $250,000 above indebtedness, + I suppose—or, by one of your estimates, $300,000? The greater part + of the first debts to me is in notes paying 6 percent. The rest (the old + $70,000 or whatever it is) pays no interest. + </p> + <p> + Now then, will Harper or Appleton, or Putnam give me $200,000 for those + debts and my two-thirds interest in the firm? (The firm of course taking + the Mount Morris and all such obligations off my hands and leaving me + clear of all responsibility.) + </p> + <p> + I don't want much money. I only want first class notes—$200,000 + worth of them at 6 per cent, payable monthly;—yearly notes, + renewable annually for 3 years, with $5,000 of the principal payable at + the beginning and middle of each year. After that, the notes renewable + annually and (perhaps) a larger part of the principal payable + semi-annually. + </p> + <p> + Please advise me and suggest alterations and emendations of the above + scheme, for I need that sort of help, being ignorant of business and not + able to learn a single detail of it. + </p> + <p> + Such a deal would make it easy for a big firm to pour in a big cash + capital and jump L. A. L. up to enormous prosperity. Then your one-third + would be a fortune—and I hope to see that day! + </p> + <p> + I enclose an authority to use with Whitmore in case you have sold any + royalties. But if you can't make this deal don't make any. Wait a little + and see if you can't make the deal. Do make the deal if you possibly can. + And if any presence shall be necessary in order to complete it I will come + over, though I hope it can be done without that. + </p> + <p> + Get me out of business! + </p> + <p> + And I will be yours forever gratefully, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> + <p> + My idea is, that I am offering my 2/3 of L. A. L. and the business for + thirty or forty thousand dollars. Is that it? + </p> + <p> + P. S. S. The new firm could retain my books and reduce them to a 10 + percent royalty. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + S. L. C. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Rev. Jos. H. Twichell, in Hartford: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + VILLA VIVIANI, SETTIGNANO (FLORENCE) + + June 9, '93. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR JOE,—The sea voyage set me up and I reached here May 27 in + tolerable condition—nothing left but weakness, cough all gone. + </p> + <p> + Old Sir Henry Layard was here the other day, visiting our neighbor Janet + Ross, daughter of Lady Duff Gordon, and since then I have been reading his + account of the adventures of his youth in the far East. In a footnote he + has something to say about a sailor which I thought might interest you—viz: + </p> + <p> + “This same quartermaster was celebrated among the English in Mesopotamia + for an entry which he made in his log-book-after a perilous storm; 'The + windy and watery elements raged. Tears and prayers was had recourse to, + but was of no manner of use. So we hauled up the anchor and got round the + point.'” + </p> + <p> + There—it isn't Ned Wakeman; it was before his day. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + With love, + MARK. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + They closed Villa Viviani in June and near the end of the month + arrived in Munich in order that Mrs. Clemens might visit some of the + German baths. The next letter is written by her and shows her deep + sympathy with Hall in his desperate struggle. There have been few + more unselfish and courageous women in history than Mark Twain's + wife. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + From Mrs. Clemens to Mr. Hall, in New York: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + June 27th 1893 + + MUNICH. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. HALL,—Your letter to Mr. Clemens of June 16th has just + reached here; as he has gone to Berlin for Clara I am going to send you + just a line in answer to it. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Clemens did not realize what trouble you would be in when his letter + should reach you or he would not have sent it just then. I hope you will + not worry any more than you can help. Do not let our interests weigh on + you too heavily. We both know you will, as you always have, look in every + way to the best interests of all. + </p> + <p> + I think Mr. Clemens is right in feeling that he should get out of + business, that he is not fitted for it; it worries him too much. + </p> + <p> + But he need be in no haste about it, and of course, it would be the very + farthest from his desire to imperil, in the slightest degree, your + interests in order to save his own. + </p> + <p> + I am sure that I voice his wish as well as mine when I say that he would + simply like you to bear in mind the fact that he greatly desires to be + released from his present anxiety and worry, at a time when it shall not + endanger your interest or the safety of the business. + </p> + <p> + I am more sorry than I can express that this letter of Mr. Clemens' should + have reached you when you were struggling under such terrible pressure. I + hope now that the weight is not quite so heavy. He would not have written + you about the money if he had known that it was an inconvenience for you + to send it. He thought the book-keeper whose duty it is to forward it had + forgotten. + </p> + <p> + We can draw on Mr. Langdon for money for a few weeks until things are a + little easier with you. As Mr. Clemens wrote you we would say “do not send + us any more money at present” if we were not afraid to do so. I will say, + however, do not trouble yourself if for a few weeks you are not able to + send the usual amount. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Clemens and I have the greatest possible desire, not to increase in + any way your burdens, and sincerely wish we might aid you. + </p> + <p> + I trust my brother may be able, in his talk with you, to throw some + helpful light on the situation. + </p> + <p> + Hoping you will see a change for the better and begin to reap the fruit of + your long and hard labor. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Believe me + Very Cordially yours + OLIVIA L. CLEMENS. +</pre> + <p> + Hall, naturally, did not wish to be left alone with the business. He + realized that his credit would suffer, both at the bank and with the + public, if his distinguished partner should retire. He wrote, therefore, + proposing as an alternate that they dispose of the big subscription set + that was swamping them. It was a good plan—if it would work—and + we find Clemens entering into it heartily. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Fred J. Hall, in New York: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MUNICH, July 3, '93. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. HALL,—You make a suggestion which has once or twice flitted + dimly through my mind heretofore to wit, sell L. A. L. + </p> + <p> + I like that better than the other scheme, for it is no doubt feasible, + whereas the other is perhaps not. + </p> + <p> + The firm is in debt, but L. A. L. is free—and not only free but has + large money owing to it. A proposition to sell that by itself to a big + house could be made without embarrassment we merely confess that we cannot + spare capital from the rest of the business to run it on the huge scale + necessary to make it an opulent success. + </p> + <p> + It will be selling a good thing—for somebody; and it will be getting + rid of a load which we are clearly not able to carry. Whoever buys will + have a noble good opening—a complete equipment, a well organized + business, a capable and experienced manager, and enterprise not + experimental but under full sail, and immediately able to pay 50 per cent + a year on every dollar the publisher shall actually invest in it—I + mean in making and selling the books. + </p> + <p> + I am miserably sorry to be adding bothers and torments to the over-supply + which you already have in these hideous times, but I feel so troubled, + myself, considering the dreary fact that we are getting deeper and deeper + in debt and the L. A. L. getting to be a heavier and heavier burden all + the time, that I must bestir myself and seek a way of relief. + </p> + <p> + It did not occur to me that in selling out I would injure you—for + that I am not going to do. But to sell L. A. L. will not injure you it + will put you in better shape. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sincerely Yours + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Fred J. Hall, in New York: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + July 8, '92. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. HALL,—I am sincerely glad you are going to sell L. A. L. I + am glad you are shutting off the agents, and I hope the fatal book will be + out of our hands before it will be time to put them on again. With nothing + but our non-existent capital to work with the book has no value for us, + rich a prize as it will be to any competent house that gets it. + </p> + <p> + I hope you are making an effort to sell before you discharge too many + agents, for I suppose the agents are a valuable part of the property. + </p> + <p> + We have been stopping in Munich for awhile, but we shall make a break for + some country resort in a few days now. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sincerely Yours + S. L. C. + + July 8 +</pre> + <p> + P. S. No, I suppose I am wrong in suggesting that you wait a moment before + discharging your L. A. L. agents—in fact I didn't mean that. I judge + your only hope of salvation is in discharging them all at once, since it + is their commissions that threaten to swamp us. It is they who have eaten + up the $14,000 I left with you in such a brief time, no doubt. + </p> + <p> + I feel panicky. + </p> + <p> + I think the sale might be made with better advantage, however, now, than + later when the agents have got out of the purchaser's reach. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + S. L. C. +</pre> + <p> + P. S. No monthly report for many months. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Those who are old enough to remember the summer of 1893 may recall + it as a black financial season. Banks were denying credit, + businesses were forced to the wall. It was a poor time to float any + costly enterprise. The Chicago company who was trying to build the + machines made little progress. The book business everywhere was + bad. In a brief note following the foregoing letters Clemens wrote + Hall: + + “It is now past the middle of July and no cablegram to say the + machine is finished. We are afraid you are having miserable days + and worried nights, and we sincerely wish we could relieve you, but + it is all black with us and we don't know any helpful thing to say + or do.” + + He inclosed some kind of manuscript proposition for John Brisben + Walker, of the Cosmopolitan, with the comment: “It is my ingenious + scheme to protect the family against the alms-house for one more + year—and after that—well, goodness knows! I have never felt so + desperate in my life—and good reason, for I haven't got a penny to + my name, and Mrs. Clemens hasn't enough laid up with Langdon to keep + us two months.” + + It was like Mark Twain, in the midst of all this turmoil, to project + an entirely new enterprise; his busy mind was always visioning + success in unusual undertakings, regardless of immediate conditions + and the steps necessary to achievement. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Fred J. Hall, in New York: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + July 26, '93. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. HALL,—..... I hope the machine will be finished this month; + but it took me four years and cost me $100,000 to finish the other machine + after it was apparently entirely complete and setting type like a + house-afire. + </p> + <p> + I wonder what they call “finished.” After it is absolutely perfect it + can't go into a printing-office until it has had a month's wear, running + night and day, to get the bearings smooth, I judge. + </p> + <p> + I may be able to run over about mid-October. Then if I find you relieved + of L. A. L. we will start a magazine inexpensive, and of an entirely + unique sort. Arthur Stedman and his father editors of it. Arthur could do + all the work, merely submitting it to his father for approval. + </p> + <p> + The first number should pay—and all subsequent ones—25 cents a + number. Cost of first number (20,000 copies) $2,000. Give most of them + away, sell the rest. Advertising and other expenses—cost unknown. + Send one to all newspapers—it would get a notice—favorable, + too. + </p> + <p> + But we cannot undertake it until L. A. L, is out of the way. With our + hands free and some capital to spare, we could make it hum. + </p> + <p> + Where is the Shelley article? If you have it on hand, keep it and I will + presently tell you what to do with it. + </p> + <p> + Don't forget to tell me. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yours Sincerely + S. L. C. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The Shelley article mentioned in this letter was the “Defense of + Harriet Sheller,” one of the very best of his essays. How he could + have written this splendid paper at a time of such distraction + passes comprehension. Furthermore, it is clear that he had revised, + indeed rewritten, the long story of Pudd'nhead Wilson. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Fred J. Hall, in New York: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + July 30, '93. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. HALL,—This time “Pudd'nhead Wilson” is a success! Even Mrs. + Clemens, the most difficult of critics, confesses it, and without reserves + or qualifications. Formerly she would not consent that it be published + either before or after my death. I have pulled the twins apart and made + two individuals of them; I have sunk them out of sight, they are mere + flitting shadows, now, and of no importance; their story has disappeared + from the book. Aunt Betsy Hale has vanished wholly, leaving not a trace + behind; aunt Patsy Cooper and her daughter Rowena have almost disappeared—they + scarcely walk across the stage. The whole story is centered on the murder + and the trial; from the first chapter the movement is straight ahead + without divergence or side-play to the murder and the trial; everything + that is done or said or that happens is a preparation for those events. + Therefore, 3 people stand up high, from beginning to end, and only 3—Pudd'nhead, + “Tom” Driscoll, and his nigger mother, Roxana; none of the others are + important, or get in the way of the story or require the reader's + attention. Consequently, the scenes and episodes which were the strength + of the book formerly are stronger than ever, now. + </p> + <p> + When I began this final reconstruction the story contained 81,500 words, + now it contains only 58,000. I have knocked out everything that delayed + the march of the story—even the description of a Mississippi + steamboat. There's no weather in, and no scenery—the story is + stripped for flight! + </p> + <p> + Now, then what is she worth? The amount of matter is but 3,000 words short + of the American Claimant, for which the syndicate paid $12,500. There was + nothing new in that story, but the finger-prints in this one is virgin + ground—absolutely fresh, and mighty curious and interesting to + everybody. + </p> + <p> + I don't want any more syndicating—nothing short of $20,000, anyway, + and that I can't get—but won't you see how much the Cosmopolitan + will stand? + </p> + <p> + Do your best for me, for I do not sleep these nights, for visions of the + poor-house. + </p> + <p> + This in spite of the hopeful tone of yours of 11th to Langdon (just + received) for in me hope is very nearly expiring. Everything does look so + blue, so dismally blue! + </p> + <p> + By and by I shall take up the Rhone open-boat voyage again, but not now—we + are going to be moving around too much. I have torn up some of it, but + still have 15,000 words that Mrs. Clemens approves of, and that I like. I + may go at it in Paris again next winter, but not unless I know I can write + it to suit me. + </p> + <p> + Otherwise I shall tackle Adam once more, and do him in a kind of a + friendly and respectful way that will commend him to the Sunday schools. + I've been thinking out his first life-days to-day and framing his childish + and ignorant impressions and opinions for him. + </p> + <p> + Will ship Pudd'nhead in a few days. When you get it cable + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mark Twain + Care Brownship, London + Received. +</pre> + <p> + I mean to ship “Pudd'nhead Wilson” to you-say, tomorrow. It'll furnish me + hash for awhile I reckon. I am almost sorry it is finished; it was good + entertainment to work at it, and kept my mind away from things. + </p> + <p> + We leave here in about ten days, but the doctors have changed our plans + again. I think we shall be in Bohemia or thereabouts till near the end of + September, then go to Paris and take a rest. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yours Sincerely + S. L. C. +</pre> + <p> + P. S. Mrs. Clemens has come in since, and read your letter and is deeply + distressed. She thinks that in some letter of mine I must have reproached + you. She says it is wonderful that you have kept the ship afloat in this + storm that has seen fleets and fleets go down; that from what she learns + of the American business-situation from her home letters you have + accomplished a marvel in the circumstances, and that she cannot bear to + have a word said to you that shall voice anything but praise and the + heartiest appreciation—and not the shadow of a reproach will she + allow. + </p> + <p> + I tell her I didn't reproach you and never thought of such a thing. And I + said I would break open my letter and say so. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Clemens says I must tell you not to send any money for a month or two—so + that you may be afforded what little relief is in our power. All right—I'm + willing; (this is honest) but I wish Brer Chatto would send along his + little yearly contribution. I dropped him a line about another matter a + week ago—asked him to subscribe for the Daily News for me—you + see I wanted to remind him in a covert way that it was pay-up time—but + doubtless I directed the letter to you or some one else, for I don't hear + from him and don't get any Daily News either. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Fred J. Hall, in New York: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Aug. 6, '93. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. HALL,—I am very sorry—it was thoughtless in me. Let + the reports go. Send me once a month two items, and two only: + </p> + <p> + Cash liabilities—(so much) Cash assets—(so much) + </p> + <p> + I can perceive the condition of the business at a glance, then, and that + will be sufficient. + </p> + <p> + Here we never see a newspaper, but even if we did I could not come + anywhere near appreciating or correctly estimating the tempest you have + been buffeting your way through—only the man who is in it can do + that—but I have tried not to burden you thoughtlessly or wantonly. I + have been wrought and unsettled in mind by apprehensions, and that is a + thing that is not helpable when one is in a strange land and sees his + resources melt down to a two months' supply and can't see any sure + daylight beyond. The bloody machine offered but a doubtful outlook—and + will still offer nothing much better for a long time to come; for when + Davis's “three weeks” is up there's three months' tinkering to follow I + guess. That is unquestionably the boss machine of the world, but is the + toughest one on prophets, when it is in an incomplete state, that has ever + seen the light. Neither Davis nor any other man can foretell with any + considerable approach to certainty when it will be ready to get down to + actual work in a printing office. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [No signature.] +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Three days after the foregoing letter was written he wrote, briefly: + + “Great Scott but it's a long year-for you and me! I never knew the + almanac to drag so. At least since I was finishing that other + machine. + + “I watch for your letters hungrily—just as I used to watch for the + cablegram saying the machine's finished; but when 'next week + certainly' swelled into 'three weeks sure' I recognized the old + familiar tune I used to hear so much. Ward don't know what + sick-heartedness is—but he is in a way to find out.” + + Always the quaint form of his humor, no matter how dark the way. + We may picture him walking the floor, planning, scheming, and + smoking—always smoking—trying to find a way out. It was not the + kind of scheming that many men have done under the circumstances; + not scheming to avoid payment of debts, but to pay them. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Fred J. Hall, in New York: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Aug. 14, '93 +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. HALL,—I am very glad indeed if you and Mr. Langdon are able + to see any daylight ahead. To me none is visible. I strongly advise that + every penny that comes in shall be applied to paying off debts. I may be + in error about this, but it seems to me that we have no other course open. + We can pay a part of the debts owing to outsiders—none to the + Clemenses. In very prosperous times we might regard our stock and + copyrights as assets sufficient, with the money owing to us, to square up + and quit even, but I suppose we may not hope for such luck in the present + condition of things. + </p> + <p> + What I am mainly hoping for, is to save my royalties. If they come into + danger I hope you will cable me, so that I can come over and try to save + them, for if they go I am a beggar. + </p> + <p> + I would sail to-day if I had anybody to take charge of my family and help + them through the difficult journeys commanded by the doctors. I may be + able to sail ten days hence; I hope so, and expect so. + </p> + <p> + We can never resurrect the L. A. L. I would not spend any more money on + that book. You spoke, a while back, of trying to start it up again as a + preparation to disposing of it, but we are not in shape to venture that, I + think. It would require more borrowing, and we must not do that. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yours Sincerely + + S. L. C. +</pre> + <p> + Aug. 16. I have thought, and thought, but I don't seem to arrive in any + very definite place. Of course you will not have an instant's safety until + the bank debts are paid. There is nothing to be thought of but to hand + over every penny as fast as it comes in—and that will be slow + enough! Or could you secure them by pledging part of our cash assets and— + </p> + <p> + I am coming over, just as soon as I can get the family moved and settled. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + S. L. C. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Two weeks following this letter he could endure the suspense no + longer, and on August 29th sailed once more for America. In New + York, Clemens settled down at the Players Club, where he could live + cheaply, and undertook some literary work while he was casting about + for ways and means to relieve the financial situation. Nothing + promising occurred, until one night at the Murray Hill Hotel he was + introduced by Dr. Clarence C. Rice to Henry H. Rogers, of the + Standard Oil group of financiers. Rogers had a keen sense of humor + and had always been a great admirer of Mark Twain's work. It was a + mirthful evening, and certainly an eventful one in Mark Twain's + life. A day or two later Doctor Rice asked the millionaire to + interest himself a little in Clemens's business affairs, which he + thought a good deal confused. Just what happened is not remembered + now, but from the date of the next letter we realize that a + discussion of the matter by Clemens and Rogers must have followed + pretty promptly. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Mrs. Clemens, in Europe: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Oct. 18, '93. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR, DEAR SWEETHEART,—I don't seem to get even half a chance to + write you, these last two days, and yet there's lots to say. + </p> + <p> + Apparently everything is at last settled as to the giveaway of L. A. L., + and the papers will be signed and the transfer made to-morrow morning. + </p> + <p> + Meantime I have got the best and wisest man in the whole Standard Oil + group of mufti-millionaires a good deal interested in looking into the + type-setter (this is private, don't mention it.) He has been searching + into that thing for three weeks, and yesterday he said to me, “I find the + machine to be all you represented it—I have here exhaustive reports + from my own experts, and I know every detail of its capacity, its immense + value, its construction, cost, history, and all about its inventor's + character. I know that the New York Co. and the Chicago Co. are both + stupid, and that they are unbusinesslike people, destitute of money and in + a hopeless boggle.” + </p> + <p> + Then he told me the scheme he had planned, then said: “If I can arrange + with these people on this basis—it will take several weeks to find + out—I will see to it that they get the money they need. Then the + thing will move right along and your royalties will cease to be waste + paper. I will post you the minute my scheme fails or succeeds. In the + meantime, you stop walking the floor. Go off to the country and try to be + gay. You may have to go to walking again, but don't begin till I tell you + my scheme has failed.” And he added: “Keep me posted always as to where + you are—for if I need you and can use you—I want to know where + to put my hand on you.” + </p> + <p> + If I should even divulge the fact that the Standard Oil is merely talking + remotely about going into the type-setter, it would send my royalties up. + </p> + <p> + With worlds and worlds of love and kisses to you all, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SAML. +</pre> + <p> + With so great a burden of care shifted to the broad financial shoulders of + H. H. Rogers, Mark Twain's spirits went ballooning, soaring toward the + stars. He awoke, too, to some of the social gaieties about him, and found + pleasure in the things that in the hour of his gloom had seemed mainly + mockery. We find him going to a Sunday evening at Howells's, to John + Mackay's, and elsewhere. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Mrs. Clemens, in Paris: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Dec. 2, '93. +</pre> + <p> + LIVY DARLING,—Last night at John Mackay's the dinner consisted of + soup, raw oysters, corned beef and cabbage, and something like a custard. + I ate without fear or stint, and yet have escaped all suggestion of + indigestion. The men present were old gray Pacific-coasters whom I knew + when I and they were young and not gray. The talk was of the days when we + went gypsying a long time ago—thirty years. Indeed it was a talk of + the dead. Mainly that. And of how they looked, and the harum-scarum things + they did and said. For there were no cares in that life, no aches and + pains, and not time enough in the day (and three-fourths of the night) to + work off one's surplus vigor and energy. Of the mid-night highway robbery + joke played upon me with revolvers at my head on the windswept and + desolate Gold Hill Divide, no witness is left but me, the victim. All the + friendly robbers are gone. These old fools last night laughed till they + cried over the particulars of that old forgotten crime. + </p> + <p> + John Mackay has no family here but a pet monkey—a most affectionate + and winning little devil. But he makes trouble for the servants, for he is + full of curiosity and likes to take everything out of the drawers and + examine it minutely; and he puts nothing back. The examinations of + yesterday count for nothing to-day—he makes a new examination every + day. But he injures nothing. + </p> + <p> + I went with Laffan to the Racquet Club the other night and played, + billiards two hours without starting up any rheumatism. I suppose it was + all really taken out of me in Berlin. + </p> + <p> + Richard Harding Davis spoke yesterday of Clara's impersonations at Mrs. + Van Rensselaer's here and said they were a wonderful piece of work. + </p> + <p> + Livy dear, I do hope you are comfortable, as to quarters and food at the + Hotel Brighton. But if you're not don't stay there. Make one more effort—don't + give it up. Dear heart, this is from one who loves you—which is + Saml. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It was decided that Rogers and Clemens should make a trip to Chicago + to investigate personally the type-setter situation there. Clemens + reports the details of the excursion to Mrs. Clemens in a long + subdivided letter, most of which has no general interest and is here + omitted. The trip, as a whole, would seem to have been + satisfactory. The personal portions of the long Christmas letter + may properly be preserved. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Mrs. Clemens, in Paris: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THE PLAYERS, Xmas, 1893. + + No. 1. +</pre> + <p> + Merry Xmas, my darling, and all my darlings! I arrived from Chicago close + upon midnight last night, and wrote and sent down my Christmas cablegram + before undressing: “Merry Xmas! Promising progress made in Chicago.” It + would get to the telegraph office toward 8 this morning and reach you at + luncheon. + </p> + <p> + I was vaguely hoping, all the past week, that my Xmas cablegram would be + definite, and make you all jump with jubilation; but the thought always + intruded itself, “You are not going out there to negotiate with a man, but + with a louse. This makes results uncertain.” + </p> + <p> + I was asleep as Christmas struck upon the clock at mid night, and didn't + wake again till two hours ago. It is now half past 10 Xmas morning; I have + had my coffee and bread, and shan't get out of bed till it is time to + dress for Mrs. Laflan's Christmas dinner this evening—where I shall + meet Bram Stoker and must make sure about that photo with Irving's + autograph. I will get the picture and he will attend to the rest. In order + to remember and not forget—well, I will go there with my dress coat + wrong side out; it will cause remark and then I shall remember. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + No. 2 and 3. +</pre> + <p> + I tell you it was interesting! The Chicago campaign, I mean. On the way + out Mr. Rogers would plan out the campaign while I walked the floor and + smoked and assented. Then he would close it up with a snap and drop it and + we would totally change the subject and take up the scenery, etc. + </p> + <p> + (Here follows the long detailed report of the Chicago conference, of + interest only to the parties directly concerned.) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + No. 4. +</pre> + <p> + We had nice tripe, going and coming. Mr. Rogers had telegraphed the + Pennsylvania Railroad for a couple of sections for us in the fast train + leaving at 2 p. m. the 22nd. The Vice President telegraphed back that + every berth was engaged (which was not true—it goes without saying) + but that he was sending his own car for us. It was mighty nice and + comfortable. In its parlor it had two sofas, which could become beds at + night. It had four comfortably-cushioned cane arm-chairs. It had a very + nice bedroom with a wide bed in it; which I said I would take because I + believed I was a little wider than Mr. Rogers—which turned out to be + true; so I took it. It had a darling back-porch—railed, roofed and + roomy; and there we sat, most of the time, and viewed the scenery and + talked, for the weather was May weather, and the soft dream-pictures of + hill and river and mountain and sky were clear and away beyond anything I + have ever seen for exquisiteness and daintiness. + </p> + <p> + The colored waiter knew his business, and the colored cook was a finished + artist. Breakfasts: coffee with real cream; beefsteaks, sausage, bacon, + chops, eggs in various ways, potatoes in various—yes, and quite + wonderful baked potatoes, and hot as fire. Dinners—all manner of + things, including canvas-back duck, apollinaris, claret, champagne, etc. + </p> + <p> + We sat up chatting till midnight, going and coming; seldom read a line, + day or night, though we were well fixed with magazines, etc.; then I + finished off with a hot Scotch and we went to bed and slept till 9.30 a.m. + I honestly tried to pay my share of hotel bills, fees, etc., but I was not + allowed—and I knew the reason why, and respected the motive. I will + explain when I see you, and then you will understand. + </p> + <p> + We were 25 hours going to Chicago; we were there 24 hours; we were 30 + hours returning. Brisk work, but all of it enjoyable. We insisted on + leaving the car at Philadelphia so that our waiter and cook (to whom Mr. + R. gave $10 apiece,) could have their Christmas-eve at home. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rogers's carriage was waiting for us in Jersey City and deposited me + at the Players. There—that's all. This letter is to make up for the + three letterless days. I love you, dear heart, I love you all. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SAML. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXIV. LETTERS 1894. A WINTER IN NEW YORK. BUSINESS FAILURE. END OF THE + MACHINE. + </h2> + <p> + The beginning of the new year found Mark Twain sailing buoyantly on a tide + of optimism. He believed that with H. H. Rogers as his financial pilot he + could weather safely any storm or stress. He could divert himself, or + rest, or work, and consider his business affairs with interest and + amusement, instead of with haggard anxiety. He ran over to Hartford to see + an amateur play; to Boston to give a charity reading; to Fair Haven to + open the library which Mr. Rogers had established there; he attended gay + dinners, receptions, and late studio parties, acquiring the name of the + “Belle of New York.” In the letters that follow we get the echo of some of + these things. The Mrs. Rice mentioned in the next brief letter was the + wife of Dr. Clarence C. Rice, who had introduced H. H. Rogers to Mark + Twain. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Mrs. Clemens, in Paris: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Jan. 12, '94 +</pre> + <p> + Livy darling, I came down from Hartford yesterday with Kipling, and he and + Hutton and I had the small smoking compartment to ourselves and found him + at last at his ease, and not shy. He was very pleasant company indeed. He + is to be in the city a week, and I wish I could invite him to dinner, but + it won't do. I should be interrupted by business, of course. The + construction of a contract that will suit Paige's lawyer (not Paige) turns + out to be very difficult. He is embarrassed by earlier advice to Paige, + and hates to retire from it and stultify himself. The negotiations are + being conducted, by means of tedious long telegrams and by talks over the + long-distance telephone. We keep the wires loaded. + </p> + <p> + Dear me, dinner is ready. So Mrs. Rice says. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + With worlds of love, + + SAML. +</pre> + <p> + Clemens and Oliver Wendell Holmes had met and become friends soon after + the publication of Innocents Abroad, in 1869. Now, twenty-five years + later, we find a record of what without doubt was their last meeting. It + occurred at the home of Mrs. James T. Field. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Mrs. Clemens, in Paris: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + BOSTON, Jan. 25, '94. +</pre> + <p> + Livy darling, I am caught out worse this time than ever before, in the + matter of letters. Tuesday morning I was smart enough to finish and mail + my long letter to you before breakfast—for I was suspecting that I + would not have another spare moment during the day. It turned out just so. + </p> + <p> + In a thoughtless moment I agreed to come up here and read for the poor. I + did not reflect that it would cost me three days. I could not get + released. Yesterday I had myself called at 8 and ran out to Mr. Rogers's + house at 9, and talked business until half past 10; then caught 11 o'clock + train and arrived here at 6; was shaven and dressed by 7 and ready for + dinner here in Mrs. Field's charming house. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes never goes out now (he is in his 84th year,) but + he came out this time—said he wanted to “have a time” once more with + me. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Fields said Aldrich begged to come and went away crying because she + wouldn't let him. She allowed only her family (Sarah Orne Jewett and + sister) to be present, because much company would overtax Dr. Holmes. + </p> + <p> + Well, he was just delightful! He did as brilliant and beautiful talking + (and listening) as ever he did in his life, I guess. Fields and Jewett + said he hadn't been in such splendid form in years. He had ordered his + carriage for 9. + </p> + <p> + The coachman sent in for him at 9; but he said, “Oh, nonsense!—leave + glories and grandeurs like these? Tell him to go away and come in an + hour!” + </p> + <p> + At 10 he was called for again, and Mrs. Fields, getting uneasy, rose, but + he wouldn't go—and so we rattled ahead the same as ever. Twice more + Mrs. Fields rose, but he wouldn't go—and he didn't go till half past + 10—an unwarrantable dissipation for him in these days. He was + prodigiously complimentary about some of my books, and is having + Pudd'nhead read to him. I told him you and I used the Autocrat as a + courting book and marked it all through, and that you keep it in the + sacred green box with the love letters, and it pleased him. + </p> + <p> + Good-bye, my dear darling, it is 15 minutes to dinner and I'm not dressed + yet. I have a reception to-night and will be out very late at that place + and at Irving's Theatre where I have a complimentary box. I wish you were + all here. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SAML. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In the next letter we meet James J. Corbett—“Gentleman Jim,” as he + was sometimes called—the champion pugilist of that day. + + The Howells incident so amusingly dramatized will perhaps be more + appreciated if the reader remembers that Mark Twain himself had at + intervals been a mind-healing enthusiast. Indeed, in spite of his + strictures on Mrs. Eddy, his interest in the subject of mind-cure + continued to the end of his life. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Mrs. Clemens, in Paris: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sunday, 9.30 a. m. +</pre> + <p> + Livy dear, when we got out to the house last night, Mrs. Rogers, who is up + and around, now, didn't want to go down stairs to dinner, but Mr. R. + persuaded her and we had a very good time indeed. By 8 o'clock we were + down again and bought a fifteen-dollar box in the Madison Square Garden + (Rogers bought it, not I,) then he went and fetched Dr. Rice while I + (went) to the Players and picked up two artists—Reid and Simmons—and + thus we filled 5 of the 6 seats. There was a vast multitude of people in + the brilliant place. Stanford White came along presently and invited me to + go to the World-Champion's dressing room, which I was very glad to do. + Corbett has a fine face and is modest and diffident, besides being the + most perfectly and beautifully constructed human animal in the world. I + said: + </p> + <p> + “You have whipped Mitchell, and maybe you will whip Jackson in June—but + you are not done, then. You will have to tackle me.” + </p> + <p> + He answered, so gravely that one might easily have thought him in earnest: + </p> + <p> + “No—I am not going to meet you in the ring. It is not fair or right + to require it. You might chance to knock me out, by no merit of your own, + but by a purely accidental blow; and then my reputation would be gone and + you would have a double one. You have got fame enough and you ought not to + want to take mine away from me.” + </p> + <p> + Corbett was for a long time a clerk in the Nevada Bank in San Francisco. + </p> + <p> + There were lots of little boxing matches, to entertain the crowd: then at + last Corbett appeared in the ring and the 8,000 people present went mad + with enthusiasm. My two artists went mad about his form. They said they + had never seen anything that came reasonably near equaling its perfection + except Greek statues, and they didn't surpass it. + </p> + <p> + Corbett boxed 3 rounds with the middle-weight Australian champion—oh, + beautiful to see!—then the show was over and we struggled out + through a perfect wash of humanity. When we reached the street I found I + had left my arctics in the box. I had to have them, so Simmons said he + would go back and get them, and I didn't dissuade him. I couldn't see how + he was going to make his way a single yard into that solid oncoming wave + of people—yet he must plow through it full 50 yards. He was back + with the shoes in 3 minutes! + </p> + <p> + How do you reckon he accomplished that miracle? By saying: + </p> + <p> + “Way, gentlemen, please—coming to fetch Mr. Corbett's overshoes.” + </p> + <p> + The word flew from mouth to mouth, the Red Sea divided, and Simmons walked + comfortably through and back, dry shod. Simmons (this was revealed to me + under seal of secrecy by Reid) is the hero of “Gwen,” and he and Gwen's + author were once engaged to marry. This is “fire-escape” Simmons, the + inveterate talker, you know: “Exit—in case of Simmons.” + </p> + <p> + I had an engagement at a beautiful dwelling close to the Players for + 10.30; I was there by 10.45. Thirty cultivated and very musical ladies and + gentlemen present—all of them acquaintances and many of them + personal friends of mine. That wonderful Hungarian Band was there (they + charge $500 for an evening.) Conversation and Band until midnight; then a + bite of supper; then the company was compactly grouped before me and I + told about Dr. B. E. Martin and the etchings, and followed it with the + Scotch-Irish Christening. My, but the Martin is a darling story! Next, the + head tenor from the Opera sang half a dozen great songs that set the + company wild, yes, mad with delight, that nobly handsome young Damrosch + accompanying on the piano. + </p> + <p> + Just a little pause—then the Band burst out into an explosion of + weird and tremendous dance music, a Hungarian celebrity and his wife took + the floor—I followed; I couldn't help it; the others drifted in, one + by one, and it was Onteora over again. + </p> + <p> + By half past 4 I had danced all those people down—and yet was not + tired; merely breathless. I was in bed at 5, and asleep in ten minutes. Up + at 9 and presently at work on this letter to you. I think I wrote until 2 + or half past. Then I walked leisurely out to Mr. Rogers's (it is called 3 + miles but it is short of it) arriving at 3.30, but he was out—to + return at 5.30—(and a person was in, whom I don't particularly like)—so + I didn't stay, but dropped over and chatted with the Howellses until 6. + </p> + <p> + First, Howells and I had a chat together. I asked about Mrs. H. He said + she was fine, still steadily improving, and nearly back to her old best + health. I asked (as if I didn't know): + </p> + <p> + “What do you attribute this strange miracle to?” + </p> + <p> + “Mind-cure—simply mind-cure.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord, what a conversion! You were a scoffer three months ago.” + </p> + <p> + “I? I wasn't.” + </p> + <p> + “You were. You made elaborate fun of me in this very room.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not, Clemens.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a lie, Howells, you did.” + </p> + <p> + I detailed to him the conversation of that time—with the stately + argument furnished by Boyesen in the fact that a patient had actually been + killed by a mind-curist; and Howells's own smart remark that when the + mind-curist is done with you, you have to call in a “regular” at last + because the former can't procure you a burial permit. + </p> + <p> + At last he gave in—he said he remembered that talk, but had now been + a mind-curist so long it was difficult for him to realize that he had ever + been anything else. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. H. came skipping in, presently, the very person, to a dot, that she + used to be, so many years ago. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. H. said: “People may call it what they like, but it is just + hypnotism, and that's all it is—hypnotism pure and simple. + Mind-cure!—the idea! Why, this woman that cured me hasn't got any + mind. She's a good creature, but she's dull and dumb and illiterate and—” + </p> + <p> + “Now Eleanor!” + </p> + <p> + “I know what I'm talking about!—don't I go there twice a week? And + Mr. Clemens, if you could only see her wooden and satisfied face when she + snubs me for forgetting myself and showing by a thoughtless remark that to + me weather is still weather, instead of being just an abstraction and a + superstition—oh, it's the funniest thing you ever saw! A-n-d-when + she tilts up her nose-well, it's—it's—Well it's that kind of a + nose that—” + </p> + <p> + “Now Eleanor!—the woman is not responsible for her nose—” and + so-on and so-on. It didn't seem to me that I had any right to be having + this feast and you not there. + </p> + <p> + She convinced me before she got through, that she and William James are + right—hypnotism and mind-cure are the same thing; no difference + between them. Very well; the very source, the very center of hypnotism is + Paris. Dr. Charcot's pupils and disciples are right there and ready to + your hand without fetching poor dear old Susy across the stormy sea. Let + Mrs. Mackay (to whom I send my best respects), tell you whom to go to to + learn all you need to learn and how to proceed. Do, do it, honey. Don't + lose a minute. + </p> + <p> + .... At 11 o'clock last night Mr. Rogers said: + </p> + <p> + “I am able to feel physical fatigue—and I feel it now. You never + show any, either in your eyes or your movements; do you ever feel any?” + </p> + <p> + I was able to say that I had forgotten what that feeling was like. Don't + you remember how almost impossible it was for me to tire myself at the + Villa? Well, it is just so in New York. I go to bed unfatigued at 3, I get + up fresh and fine six hours later. I believe I have taken only one + daylight nap since I have been here. + </p> + <p> + When the anchor is down, then I shall say: + </p> + <p> + “Farewell—a long farewell—to business! I will never touch it + again!” + </p> + <p> + I will live in literature, I will wallow in it, revel in it, I will swim + in ink! Joan of Arc—but all this is premature; the anchor is not + down yet. + </p> + <p> + To-morrow (Tuesday) I will add a P. S. if I've any to add; but, whether or + no, I must mail this to morrow, for the mail steamer goes next day. + </p> + <p> + 5.30 p. m. Great Scott, this is Tuesday! I must rush this letter into the + mail instantly. + </p> + <p> + Tell that sassy Ben I've got her welcome letter, and I'll write her as + soon as I get a daylight chance. I've most time at night, but I'd druther + write daytimes. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SAML. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The Reid and Simmons mentioned in the foregoing were Robert Reid and + Edward Simmons, distinguished painter—the latter a brilliant, + fluent, and industrious talker. The title; “Fire-escape Simmons,” + which Clemens gives him, originated when Oliver Herford, whose + quaint wit has so long delighted New-Yorkers, one day pinned up by + the back door of the Players the notice: “Exit in case of Simmons.” + Gwen, a popular novel of that day, was written by Blanche Willis + Howard. + + “Jamie” Dodge, in the next letter, was the son of Mrs. Mary Mapes + Dodge, editor of St. Nicholas. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Clara Clemens, in Paris: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MR. ROGERS'S OFFICE, Feb. 5, '94. +</pre> + <p> + Dear Benny—I was intending to answer your letter to-day, but I am + away down town, and will simply whirl together a sentence or two for + good-fellowship. I have bought photographs of Coquelin and Jane Hading and + will ask them to sign them. I shall meet Coquelin tomorrow night, and if + Hading is not present I will send her picture to her by somebody. + </p> + <p> + I am to breakfast with Madame Nordica in a few days, and meantime I hope + to get a good picture of her to sign. She was of the breakfast company + yesterday, but the picture of herself which she signed and gave me does + not do her majestic beauty justice. + </p> + <p> + I am too busy to attend to the photo-collecting right, because I have to + live up to the name which Jamie Dodge has given me—the “Belle of New + York”—and it just keeps me rushing. Yesterday I had engagements to + breakfast at noon, dine at 3, and dine again at 7. I got away from the + long breakfast at 2 p. m., went and excused myself from the 3 o'clock + dinner, then lunched with Mrs. Dodge in 58th street, returned to the + Players and dressed, dined out at 9, and was back at Mrs. Dodge's at 10 p. + m. where we had magic-lantern views of a superb sort, and a lot of yarns + until an hour after midnight, and got to bed at 2 this morning—a + good deal of a gain on my recent hours. But I don't get tired; I sleep as + sound as a dead person, and always wake up fresh and strong—usually + at exactly 9. + </p> + <p> + I was at breakfast lately where people of seven separate nationalities sat + and the seven languages were going all the time. At my side sat a charming + gentleman who was a delightful and active talker, and interesting. He + talked glibly to those folks in all those seven languages and still had a + language to spare! I wanted to kill him, for very envy. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I greet you with love and kisses. + + PAPA. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Mrs. Clemens, in Paris: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Feb.—. + </pre> + <p> + Livy dear, last night I played billiards with Mr. Rogers until 11, then + went to Robert Reid's studio and had a most delightful time until 4 this + morning. No ladies were invited this time. Among the people present were— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Coquelin; + Richard Harding Davis; + Harrison, the great out-door painter; + Wm. H. Chase, the artist; + Bettini, inventor of the new phonograph. + Nikola Tesla, the world-wide illustrious electrician; see article about + him in Jan. or Feb. Century. + John Drew, actor; + James Barnes, a marvelous mimic; my, you should see him! + Smedley the artist; + Zorn the artist; + Zogbaum the artist; + Reinhart the artist; + Metcalf the artist; + Ancona, head tenor at the Opera; +</pre> + <p> + Oh, a great lot of others. Everybody there had done something and was in + his way famous. + </p> + <p> + Somebody welcomed Coquelin in a nice little French speech; John Drew did + the like for me in English, and then the fun began. Coquelin did some + excellent French monologues—one of them an ungrammatical Englishman + telling a colorless historiette in French. It nearly killed the fifteen or + twenty people who understood it. + </p> + <p> + I told a yarn, Ancona sang half a dozen songs, Barnes did his darling + imitations, Harding Davis sang the hanging of Danny Deever, which was of + course good, but he followed it with that most fascinating (for what + reason I don't know) of all Kipling's poems, “On the Road to Mandalay,” + sang it tenderly, and it searched me deeper and charmed me more than the + Deever. + </p> + <p> + Young Gerrit Smith played some ravishing dance music and we all danced + about an hour. There couldn't be a pleasanter night than that one was. + Some of those people complained of fatigue but I don't seem to know what + the sense of fatigue is. + </p> + <p> + Coquelin talks quite good English now. He said: + </p> + <p> + “I have a brother who has the fine mind—ah, a charming and delicate + fancy, and he knows your writings so well, and loves them—and that + is the same with me. It will stir him so when I write and tell him I have + seen you!” + </p> + <p> + Wasn't that nice? We talked a good deal together. He is as winning as his + own face. But he wouldn't sign that photograph for Clara. “That? No! She + shall have a better one. I will send it to you.” + </p> + <p> + He is much driven, and will forget it, but Reid has promised to get the + picture for me, and I will try and keep him reminded. + </p> + <p> + Oh, dear, my time is all used up and your letters are not answered. + </p> + <p> + Mama, dear, I don't go everywhere—I decline most things. But there + are plenty that I can't well get out of. + </p> + <p> + I will remember what you say and not make my yarning too common. + </p> + <p> + I am so glad Susy has gone on that trip and that you are trying the + electric. May you both prosper. For you are mighty dear to me and in my + thoughts always. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SAML. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The affairs of the Webster Publishing Company were by this time + getting into a very serious condition indeed. The effects of the + panic of the year before could not be overcome. Creditors were + pressing their claims and profits were negligible. In the following + letter we get a Mark Twain estimate of the great financier who so + cheerfully was willing to undertake the solving of Mark Twain's + financial problems. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Mrs. Clemens, in Paris: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THE PLAYERS, Feb. 15, '94. 11.30 p. m. +</pre> + <p> + Livy darling, Yesterday I talked all my various matters over with Mr. + Rogers and we decided that it would be safe for me to leave here the 7th + of March, in the New York. So his private secretary, Miss Harrison, wrote + and ordered a berth for me and then I lost no time in cabling you that I + should reach Southampton March 14, and Paris the 15th. Land, but it made + my pulses leap, to think I was going to see you again!... One thing at a + time. I never fully laid Webster's disastrous condition before Mr. Rogers + until to-night after billiards. I did hate to burden his good heart and + over-worked head with it, but he took hold with avidity and said it was no + burden to work for his friends, but a pleasure. We discussed it from + various standpoints, and found it a sufficiently difficult problem to + solve; but he thinks that after he has slept upon it and thought it over + he will know what to suggest. + </p> + <p> + You must not think I am ever rude with Mr. Rogers, I am not. He is not + common clay, but fine—fine and delicate—and that sort do not + call out the coarsenesses that are in my sort. I am never afraid of + wounding him; I do not need to watch myself in that matter. The sight of + him is peace. + </p> + <p> + He wants to go to Japan—it is his dream; wants to go with me—which + means, the two families—and hear no more about business for awhile, + and have a rest. And he needs it. But it is like all the dreams of all + busy men—fated to remain dreams. + </p> + <p> + You perceive that he is a pleasant text for me. It is easy to write about + him. When I arrived in September, lord how black the prospect was—how + desperate, how incurably desperate! Webster and Co. had to have a small + sum of money or go under at once. I flew to Hartford—to my friends—but + they were not moved, not strongly interested, and I was ashamed that I + went. It was from Mr. Rogers, a stranger, that I got the money and was by + it saved. And then—while still a stranger—he set himself the + task of saving my financial life without putting upon me (in his native + delicacy) any sense that I was the recipient of a charity, a benevolence—and + he has accomplished that task; accomplished it at a cost of three months + of wearing and difficult labor. He gave that time to me—time which + could not be bought by any man at a hundred thousand dollars a month—no, + nor for three times the money. + </p> + <p> + Well, in the midst of that great fight, that long and admirable fight, + George Warner came to me and said: + </p> + <p> + “There is a splendid chance open to you. I know a man—a prominent + man—who has written a book that will go like wildfire; a book that + arraigns the Standard Oil fiends, and gives them unmitigated hell, + individual by individual. It is the very book for you to publish; there is + a fortune in it, and I can put you in communication with the author.” + </p> + <p> + I wanted to say: + </p> + <p> + “The only man I care for in the world; the only man I would give a damn + for; the only man who is lavishing his sweat and blood to save me and mine + from starvation and shame, is a Standard Oil fiend. If you know me, you + know whether I want the book or not.” + </p> + <p> + But I didn't say that. I said I didn't want any book; I wanted to get out + of the publishing business and out of all business, and was here for that + purpose and would accomplish it if I could. + </p> + <p> + But there's enough. I shall be asleep by 3, and I don't need much sleep, + because I am never drowsy or tired these days. Dear, dear Susy my strength + reproaches me when I think of her and you, my darling. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SAML. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + But even so able a man as Henry Rogers could not accomplish the + impossible. The affairs of the Webster Company were hopeless, the + business was not worth saving. By Mr. Rogers's advice an assignment + was made April, 18, 1894. After its early spectacular success less + than ten years had brought the business to failure. The publication + of the Grant memoirs had been its only great achievement. + + Clemens would seem to have believed that the business would resume, + and for a time Rogers appears to have comforted him in his hope, but + we cannot believe that it long survived. Young Hall, who had made + such a struggle for its salvation, was eager to go on, but he must + presently have seen the futility of any effort in that direction. + + Of course the failure of Mark Twain's firm made a great stir in the + country, and it is easy to understand that loyal friends would rally + in his behalf. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Mrs. Clemens, in Paris: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + April 22, '94. +</pre> + <p> + Dear old darling, we all think the creditors are going to allow us to + resume business; and if they do we shall pull through and pay the debts. I + am prodigiously glad we made an assignment. And also glad that we did not + make it sooner. Earlier we should have made a poor showing; but now we + shall make a good one. + </p> + <p> + I meet flocks of people, and they all shake me cordially by the hand and + say “I was so sorry to hear of the assignment, but so glad you did it. It + was around, this long time, that the concern was tottering, and all your + friends were afraid you would delay the assignment too long.” + </p> + <p> + John Mackay called yesterday, and said, “Don't let it disturb you, Sam—we + all have to do it, at one time or another; it's nothing to be ashamed of.” + </p> + <p> + One stranger out in New York State sent me a dollar bill and thought he + would like to get up a dollar-subscription for me. And Poultney Bigelow's + note came promptly, with his check for $1,000. I had been meeting him + every day at the Club and liking him better and better all the time. I + couldn't take his money, of course, but I thanked him cordially for his + good will. + </p> + <p> + Now and then a good and dear Joe Twichell or Susy Warner condoles with me + and says “Cheer up—don't be downhearted,” and some other friend + says, “I am glad and surprised to see how cheerful you are and how bravely + you stand it”—and none of them suspect what a burden has been lifted + from me and how blithe I am inside. Except when I think of you, dear heart—then + I am not blithe; for I seem to see you grieving and ashamed, and dreading + to look people in the face. For in the thick of the fight there is cheer, + but you are far away and cannot hear the drums nor see the wheeling + squadrons. You only seem to see rout, retreat, and dishonored colors + dragging in the dirt—whereas none of these things exist. There is + temporary defeat, but no dishonor—and we will march again. Charley + Warner said to-day, “Sho, Livy isn't worrying. So long as she's got you + and the children she doesn't care what happens. She knows it isn't her + affair.” Which didn't convince me. + </p> + <p> + Good bye my darling, I love you and all of the kids—and you can tell + Clara I am not a spitting gray kitten. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SAML. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Clemens sailed for Europe as soon as his affairs would permit him + to go. He must get settled where he could work comfortably. + Type-setter prospects seemed promising, but meantime there was + need of funds. + + He began writing on the ship, as was his habit, and had completed + his article on Fenimore Cooper by the time he reached London. In + August we find him writing to Mr. Rogers from Etretat, a little + Norman watering-place. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To H. H. Rogers, in New York: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ETRETAT, (NORMANDIE) + + CHALET DES ABRIS + + Aug. 25, '94. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. ROGERS,—I find the Madam ever so much better in health and + strength. The air is superb and soothing and wholesome, and the Chalet is + remote from noise and people, and just the place to write in. I shall + begin work this afternoon. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Clemens is in great spirits on, account of the benefit which she has + received from the electrical treatment in Paris and is bound to take it up + again and continue it all the winter, and of course I am perfectly + willing. She requires me to drop the lecture platform out of my mind and + go straight ahead with Joan until the book is finished. If I should have + to go home for even a week she means to go with me—won't consent to + be separated again—but she hopes I won't need to go. + </p> + <p> + I tell her all right, “I won't go unless you send, and then I must.” + </p> + <p> + She keeps the accounts; and as she ciphers it we can't get crowded for + money for eight months yet. I didn't know that. But I don't know much + anyway. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sincerely yours, + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The reader may remember that Clemens had written the first half of + his Joan of Arc book at the Villa Viviani, in Florence, nearly two + years before. He had closed the manuscript then with the taking of + Orleans, and was by no means sure that he would continue the story + beyond that point. Now, however, he was determined to reach the + tale's tragic conclusion. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To H. H. Rogers, in New York: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ETRETAT, + Sunday, Sept. 9, '94. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. ROGERS, I drove the quill too hard, and I broke down—in my + head. It has now been three days since I laid up. When I wrote you a week + ago I had added 10,000 words or thereabout to Joan. Next day I added 1,500 + which was a proper enough day's work though not a full one; but during + Tuesday and Wednesday I stacked up an aggregate of 6,000 words—and + that was a very large mistake. My head hasn't been worth a cent since. + </p> + <p> + However, there's a compensation; for in those two days I reached and + passed—successfully—a point which I was solicitous about + before I ever began the book: viz., the battle of Patay. Because that + would naturally be the next to the last chapter of a work consisting of + either two books or one. In the one case one goes right along from that + point (as I shall do now); in the other he would add a wind-up chapter and + make the book consist of Joan's childhood and military career alone. + </p> + <p> + I shall resume work to-day; and hereafter I will not go at such an + intemperate' rate. My head is pretty cobwebby yet. + </p> + <p> + I am hoping that along about this time I shall hear that the machine is + beginning its test in the Herald office. I shall be very glad indeed to + know the result of it. I wish I could be there. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sincerely yours + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Rouen, where Joan met her martyrdom, was only a short distance away, + and they halted there en route to Paris, where they had arranged to + spend the winter. The health of Susy Clemens was not good, and they + lingered in Rouen while Clemens explored the old city and + incidentally did some writing of another sort. In a note to Mr. + Rogers he said: “To put in my odd time I am writing some articles + about Paul Bourget and his Outre-Mer chapters—laughing at them and + at some of our oracular owls who find them important. What the hell + makes them important, I should like to know!” + + He was still at Rouen two weeks later and had received encouraging + news from Rogers concerning the type-setter, which had been placed + for trial in the office of the Chicago Herald. Clemens wrote: “I + can hardly keep from sending a hurrah by cable. I would certainly + do it if I wasn't superstitious.” His restraint, though wise, was + wasted the end was near. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To H. H. Rogers, in New York: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 169 RUE DE L'UNIVERSITE, + PARIS, Dec. 22; '94. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. ROGERS,—I seemed to be entirely expecting your letter, and + also prepared and resigned; but Lord, it shows how little we know + ourselves and how easily we can deceive ourselves. It hit me like a + thunder-clap. It knocked every rag of sense out of my head, and I went + flying here and there and yonder, not knowing what I was doing, and only + one clearly defined thought standing up visible and substantial out of the + crazy storm-drift that my dream of ten years was in desperate peril, and + out of the 60,000 or 90,000 projects for its rescue that came floating + through my skull, not one would hold still long enough for me to examine + it and size it up. Have you ever been like that? Not so much so, I reckon. + </p> + <p> + There was another clearly defined idea—I must be there and see it + die. That is, if it must die; and maybe if I were there we might hatch up + some next-to-impossible way to make it take up its bed and take a walk. + </p> + <p> + So, at the end of four hours I started, still whirling and walked over to + the rue Scribe—4 P. M.—and asked a question or two and was + told I should be running a big risk if I took the 9 P. M. train for London + and Southampton; “better come right along at 6.52 per Havre special and + step aboard the New York all easy and comfortable.” Very! and I about two + miles from home, with no packing done. + </p> + <p> + Then it occurred to me that none of these salvation-notions that were + whirl-winding through my head could be examined or made available unless + at least a month's time could be secured. So I cabled you, and said to + myself that I would take the French steamer tomorrow (which will be + Sunday). + </p> + <p> + By bedtime Mrs. Clemens had reasoned me into a fairly rational and + contented state of mind; but of course it didn't last long. So I went on + thinking—mixing it with a smoke in the dressing room once an hour—until + dawn this morning. Result—a sane resolution; no matter what your + answer to my cable might be, I would hold still and not sail until I + should get an answer to this present letter which I am now writing, or a + cable answer from you saying “Come” or “Remain.” + </p> + <p> + I have slept 6 hours, my pond has clarified, and I find the sediment of my + 70,000 projects to be of this character: + </p> + <p> + [Several pages of suggestions for reconstructing the machine follow.] + </p> + <p> + Don't say I'm wild. For really I'm sane again this morning. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ...................... +</pre> + <p> + I am going right along with Joan, now, and wait untroubled till I hear + from you. If you think I can be of the least use, cable me “Come.” I can + write Joan on board ship and lose no time. Also I could discuss my plan + with the publisher for a deluxe Joan, time being an object, for some of + the pictures could be made over here cheaply and quickly, but would cost + much time and money in America. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ...................... +</pre> + <p> + If the meeting should decide to quit business Jan. 4, I'd like to have + Stoker stopped from paying in any more money, if Miss Harrison doesn't + mind that disagreeable job. And I'll have to write them, too, of course. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + With love, + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The “Stoker” of this letter was Bram Stoker, long associated with + Sir Henry Irving. Irving himself had also taken stock in the + machine. The address, 169 Rue de l'Universite, whence these letters + are written, was the beautiful studio home of the artist Pomroy + which they had taken for the winter. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To H. H. Rogers, in New York: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 169 RUE DE L'UNIVERSITE, + PARIS, Dec. 27, '94. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. ROGERS,—Notwithstanding your heart is “old and hard,” you + make a body choke up. I know you “mean every word you say” and I do take + it “in the same spirit in which you tender it.” I shall keep your regard + while we two live—that I know; for I shall always remember what you + have done for me, and that will insure me against ever doing anything that + could forfeit it or impair it. I am 59 years old; yet I never had a friend + before who put out a hand and tried to pull me ashore when he found me in + deep waters. + </p> + <p> + It is six days or seven days ago that I lived through that despairing day, + and then through a night without sleep; then settled down next day into my + right mind (or thereabouts,) and wrote you. I put in the rest of that day + till 7 P. M. plenty comfortably enough writing a long chapter of my book; + then went to a masked ball blacked up as Uncle Remus, taking Clara along; + and we had a good time. I have lost no day since and suffered no + discomfort to speak of, but drove my troubles out of my mind and had good + success in keeping them out—through watchfulness. I have done a good + week's work and put the book a good way ahead in the Great Trial, which is + the difficult part which requires the most thought and carefulness. I + cannot see the end of the Trial yet, but I am on the road. I am creeping + surely toward it. + </p> + <p> + “Why not leave them all to me.” My business bothers? I take you by the + hand! I jump at the chance! + </p> + <p> + I ought to be ashamed and I am trying my best to be ashamed—and yet + I do jump at the chance in spite of it. I don't want to write Irving and I + don't want to write Stoker. It doesn't seem as if I could. But I can + suggest something for you to write them; and then if you see that I am + unwise, you can write them something quite different. Now this is my idea: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1. To return Stoker's $100 to him and keep his stock. + + 2. And tell Irving that when luck turns with me I will make good to + him what the salvage from the dead Co. fails to pay him of his $500. +</pre> + <p> + P. S. Madam says No, I must face the music. So I enclose my effort to be + used if you approve, but not otherwise. + </p> + <p> + There! Now if you will alter it to suit your judgment and bang away, I + shall be eternally obliged. + </p> + <p> + We shall try to find a tenant for our Hartford house; not an easy matter, + for it costs heavily to live in. We can never live in it again; though it + would break the family's hearts if they could believe it. + </p> + <p> + Nothing daunts Mrs. Clemens or makes the world look black to her—which + is the reason I haven't drowned myself. + </p> + <p> + We all send our deepest and warmest greetings to you and all of yours and + a Happy New Year! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> + <p> + Enclosure: + </p> + <p> + MY DEAR STOKER,—I am not dating this because it is not to be mailed + at present. + </p> + <p> + When it reaches you it will mean that there is a hitch in my + machine-enterprise—a hitch so serious as to make it take to itself + the aspect of a dissolved dream. This letter, then, will contain cheque + for the $100 which you have paid. And will you tell Irving for me—I + can't get up courage enough to talk about this misfortune myself, except + to you, whom by good luck I haven't damaged yet that when the wreckage + presently floats ashore he will get a good deal of his $500 back; and a + dab at a time I will make up to him the rest. + </p> + <p> + I'm not feeling as fine as I was when I saw you there in your home. Please + remember me kindly to Mrs. Stoker. I gave up that London lecture-project + entirely. Had to—there's never been a chance since to find the time. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sincerely yours, + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXV. LETTERS, 1895-96, TO H. H. ROGERS AND OTHERS. FINISHING “JOAN OF + ARC.” THE TRIP AROUND THE WORLD. DEATH OF SUSY CLEMENS. + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To H. H. Rogers, in New York City: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [No date.] +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. ROGERS,—Yours of Dec. 21 has arrived, containing the + circular to stockholders and I guess the Co. will really quit—there + doesn't seem to be any other wise course. + </p> + <p> + There's one thing which makes it difficult for me to soberly realize that + my ten year dream is actually dissolved; and that is, that it reveries my + horoscope. The proverb says, “Born lucky, always lucky,” and I am very + superstitious. As a small boy I was notoriously lucky. It was usual for + one or two of our lads (per annum) to get drowned in the Mississippi or in + Bear Creek, but I was pulled out in a 2/3 drowned condition 9 times before + I learned to swim, and was considered to be a cat in disguise. When the + “Pennsylvania” blew up and the telegraph reported my brother as fatally + injured (with 60 others) but made no mention of me, my uncle said to my + mother “It means that Sam was somewhere else, after being on that boat a + year and a half—he was born lucky.” Yes, I was somewhere else. I am + so superstitious that I have always been afraid to have business dealings + with certain relatives and friends of mine because they were unlucky + people. All my life I have stumbled upon lucky chances of large size, and + whenever they were wasted it was because of my own stupidity and + carelessness. And so I have felt entirely certain that that machine would + turn up trumps eventually. It disappointed me lots of times, but I + couldn't shake off the confidence of a life-time in my luck. + </p> + <p> + Well, whatever I get out of the wreckage will be due to good luck—the + good luck of getting you into the scheme—for, but for that, there + wouldn't be any wreckage; it would be total loss. + </p> + <p> + I wish you had been in at the beginning. Then we should have had the good + luck to step promptly ashore. + </p> + <p> + Miss Harrison has had a dream which promises me a large bank account, and + I want her to go ahead and dream it twice more, so as to make the + prediction sure to be fulfilled. + </p> + <p> + I've got a first rate subject for a book. It kept me awake all night, and + I began it and completed it in my mind. The minute I finish Joan I will + take it up. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Love and Happy New Year to you all. + Sincerely yours, + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + This was about the end of the machine interests so far as Clemens + was concerned. Paige succeeded in getting some new people + interested, but nothing important happened, or that in any way + affected Mark Twain. Characteristically he put the whole matter + behind him and plunged into his work, facing comparative poverty and + a burden of debts with a stout heart. The beginning of the new year + found him really poorer in purse than he had ever been in his life, + but certainly not crushed, or even discouraged—at least, not + permanently—and never more industrious or capable. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To H. H. Rogers, in New York City: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 169 RUE DE L'UNIVERSITE, + PARIS, Jan. 23, '95. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. ROGERS,—After I wrote you, two or three days ago I thought + I would make a holiday of the rest of the day—the second deliberate + holiday since I had the gout. On the first holiday I wrote a tale of about + 6,000 words, which was 3 days' work in one; and this time I did 8,000 + before midnight. I got nothing out of that first holiday but the + recreation of it, for I condemned the work after careful reading and some + revision; but this time I fared better—I finished the Huck Finn tale + that lies in your safe, and am satisfied with it. + </p> + <p> + The Bacheller syndicate (117 Tribune Building) want a story of 5,000 words + (lowest limit of their London agent) for $1,000 and offer to plank the + check on delivery, and it was partly to meet that demand that I took that + other holiday. So as I have no short story that suits me (and can't and + shan't make promises), the best I can do is to offer the longer one which + I finished on my second holiday—“Tom Sawyer, Detective.” + </p> + <p> + It makes 27 or 28,000 words, and is really written for grown folks, though + I expect young folk to read it, too. It transfers to the banks of the + Mississippi the incidents of a strange murder which was committed in + Sweden in old times. + </p> + <p> + I'll refer applicants for a sight of the story to you or Miss Harrison.—[Secretary + to Mr. Rogers.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yours sincerely, + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To H. H. Rogers, in New York City: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 169 RUE DE L'UNIVERSITE, + Apr. 29, '95. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. ROGERS,—Your felicitous delightful letter of the 15th + arrived three days ago, and brought great pleasure into the house. + </p> + <p> + There is one thing that weighs heavily on Mrs. Clemens and me. That is + Brusnahan's money. If he is satisfied to have it invested in the Chicago + enterprise, well and good; if not, we would like to have the money paid + back to him. I will give him as many months to decide in as he pleases—let + him name 6 or 10 or 12—and we will let the money stay where it is in + your hands till the time is up. Will Miss Harrison tell him so? I mean if + you approve. I would like him to have a good investment, but would + meantime prefer to protect him against loss. + </p> + <p> + At 6 minutes past 7, yesterday evening, Joan of Arc was burned at the + stake. + </p> + <p> + With the long strain gone, I am in a sort of physical collapse today, but + it will be gone tomorrow. I judged that this end of the book would be hard + work, and it turned out so. I have never done any work before that cost so + much thinking and weighing and measuring and planning and cramming, or so + much cautious and painstaking execution. For I wanted the whole Rouen + trial in, if it could be got in in such a way that the reader's interest + would not flag—in fact I wanted the reader's interest to increase; + and so I stuck to it with that determination in view—with the result + that I have left nothing out but unimportant repetitions. Although it is + mere history—history pure and simple—history stripped naked of + flowers, embroideries, colorings, exaggerations, invention—the + family agree that I have succeeded. It was a perilous thing to try in a + tale, but I never believed it a doubtful one—provided I stuck + strictly to business and didn't weaken and give up: or didn't get lazy and + skimp the work. The first two-thirds of the book were easy; for I only + needed to keep my historical road straight; therefore I used for reference + only one French history and one English one—and shoveled in as much + fancy work and invention on both sides of the historical road as I + pleased. But on this last third I have constantly used five French sources + and five English ones and I think no telling historical nugget in any of + them has escaped me. + </p> + <p> + Possibly the book may not sell, but that is nothing—it was written + for love. + </p> + <p> + There—I'm called to see company. The family seldom require this of + me, but they know I am not working today. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yours sincerely, + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Brusnahan,” of the foregoing letter, was an employee of the New + York Herald, superintendent of the press-room—who had invested some + of his savings in the type-setter. + + In February Clemens returned to New York to look after matters + connected with his failure and to close arrangements for a + reading-tour around the world. He was nearly sixty years old, and + time had not lessened his loathing for the platform. More than + once, however, in earlier years, he had turned to it as a + debt-payer, and never yet had his burden been so great as now. He + concluded arrangements with Major Pond to take him as far as the + Pacific Coast, and with R. S. Smythe, of Australia, for the rest of + the tour. In April we find him once more back in Paris preparing + to bring the family to America, He had returned by way of London, + where he had visited Stanley the explorer—an old friend. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To H. H. Rogers, in New York City: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 169 RUE DE L'UNIVERSITE, + Sunday, Apr.7,'95. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. ROGERS,—..... Stanley is magnificently housed in London, in + a grand mansion in the midst of the official world, right off Downing + Street and Whitehall. He had an extraordinary assemblage of brains and + fame there to meet me—thirty or forty (both sexes) at dinner, and + more than a hundred came in, after dinner. Kept it up till after midnight. + There were cabinet ministers, ambassadors, admirals, generals, canons, + Oxford professors, novelists, playwrights, poets, and a number of people + equipped with rank and brains. I told some yarns and made some speeches. I + promised to call on all those people next time I come to London, and show + them the wife and the daughters. If I were younger and very strong I would + dearly love to spend a season in London—provided I had no work on + hand, or no work more exacting than lecturing. I think I will lecture + there a month or two when I return from Australia. + </p> + <p> + There were many delightful ladies in that company. One was the wife of His + Excellency Admiral Bridge, Commander-in Chief of the Australian Station, + and she said her husband was able to throw wide all doors to me in that + part of the world and would be glad to do it, and would yacht me and my + party around, and excursion us in his flag-ship and make us have a great + time; and she said she would write him we were coming, and we would find + him ready. I have a letter from her this morning enclosing a letter of + introduction to the Admiral. I already know the Admiral commanding in the + China Seas and have promised to look in on him out there. He sleeps with + my books under his pillow. P'raps it is the only way he can sleep. + </p> + <p> + According to Mrs. Clemens's present plans—subject to modification, + of course—we sail in May; stay one day, or two days in New York, + spend June, July and August in Elmira and prepare my lectures; then + lecture in San Francisco and thereabouts during September and sail for + Australia before the middle of October and open the show there about the + middle of November. We don't take the girls along; it would be too + expensive and they are quite willing to remain behind anyway. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. C. is feeling so well that she is not going to try the New York + doctor till we have gone around the world and robbed it and made the + finances a little easier. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + With a power of love to you all, + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There would come moments of depression, of course, and a week later + he wrote: “I am tired to death all the time:” To a man of less + vitality, less vigor of mind and body, it is easy to believe that + under such circumstances this condition would have remained + permanent. But perhaps, after all, it was his comic outlook on + things in general that was his chief life-saver. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To H. H. Rogers, in New York City: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 169 RUE DE L'UNIVERSITE, Apr. 29, '95. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. ROGERS,—I have been hidden an hour or two, reading proof of + Joan and now I think I am a lost child. I can't find anybody on the place. + The baggage has all disappeared, including the family. I reckon that in + the hurry and bustle of moving to the hotel they forgot me. But it is no + matter. It is peacefuller now than I have known it for days and days and + days. + </p> + <p> + In these Joan proofs which I have been reading for the September Harper I + find a couple of tip-top platform readings—and I mean to read them + on our trip. If the authorship is known by then; and if it isn't, I will + reveal it. The fact is, there is more good platform-stuff in Joan than in + any previous book of mine, by a long sight. + </p> + <p> + Yes, every danged member of the tribe has gone to the hotel and left me + lost. I wonder how they can be so careless with property. I have got to + try to get there by myself now. + </p> + <p> + All the trunks are going over as luggage; then I've got to find somebody + on the dock who will agree to ship 6 of them to the Hartford Customhouse. + If it is difficult I will dump them into the river. It is very careless of + Mrs. Clemens to trust trunks and things to me. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sincerely yours, + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + By the latter part of May they were at Quarry Farm, and Clemens, + laid up there with a carbuncle, was preparing for his long tour. + The outlook was not a pleasant one. To Mr. Rogers he wrote: “I + sha'n't be able to stand on the platform before we start west. I + sha'n't get a single chance to practice my reading; but will have to + appear in Cleveland without the essential preparation. Nothing in + this world can save it from being a shabby, poor disgusting + performance. I've got to stand; I can't do it and talk to a house, + and how in the nation am I going to sit? Land of Goshen, it's this + night week! Pray for me.” + + The opening at Cleveland July 15th appears not to have been much of + a success, though from another reason, one that doubtless seemed + amusing to him later. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To H. H. Rogers, in New York City: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (Forenoon) + CLEVELAND, July 16, '95. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. ROGERS,—Had a roaring success at the Elmira reformatory + Sunday night. But here, last night, I suffered defeat—There were a + couple of hundred little boys behind me on the stage, on a lofty tier of + benches which made them the most conspicuous objects in the house. And + there was nobody to watch them or keep them quiet. Why, with their + scufflings and horse-play and noise, it was just a menagerie. Besides, a + concert of amateurs had been smuggled into the program (to precede me,) + and their families and friends (say ten per cent of the audience) kept + encoring them and they always responded. So it was 20 minutes to 9 before + I got the platform in front of those 2,600 people who had paid a dollar + apiece for a chance to go to hell in this fashion. + </p> + <p> + I got started magnificently, but inside of half an hour the scuffling boys + had the audience's maddened attention and I saw it was a gone case; so I + skipped a third of my program and quit. The newspapers are kind, but + between you and me it was a defeat. There ain't going to be any more + concerts at my lectures. I care nothing for this defeat, because it was + not my fault. My first half hour showed that I had the house, and I could + have kept it if I hadn't been so handicapped. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yours sincerely, + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> + <p> + P. S. Had a satisfactory time at Petoskey. Crammed the house and turned + away a crowd. We had $548 in the house, which was $300 more than it had + ever had in it before. I believe I don't care to have a talk go off better + than that one did. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mark Twain, on this long tour, was accompanied by his wife and his + daughter Clara—Susy and Jean Clemens remaining with their aunt at + Quarry Farm. The tour was a financial success from the start. + By the time they were ready to sail from Vancouver five thousand + dollars had been remitted to Mr. Rogers against that day of + settlement when the debts of Webster & Co. were to be paid. Perhaps + it should be stated here that a legal settlement had been arranged + on a basis of fifty cents on the dollar, but neither Clemens nor his + wife consented to this as final. They would pay in full. + + They sailed from Vancouver August 23, 1895. About the only letter + of this time is an amusing note to Rudyard Kipling, written at the + moment of departure. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Rudyard Kipling, in England: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + August, 1895. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR KIPLING,—It is reported that you are about to visit India. This + has moved me to journey to that far country in order that I may unload + from my conscience a debt long due to you. Years ago you came from India + to Elmira to visit me, as you said at the time. It has always been my + purpose to return that visit and that great compliment some day. I shall + arrive next January and you must be ready. I shall come riding my ayah + with his tusks adorned with silver bells and ribbons and escorted by a + troop of native howdahs richly clad and mounted upon a herd of wild + bungalows; and you must be on hand with a few bottles of ghee, for I shall + be thirsty. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Affectionately, + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Clemens, platforming in Australia, was too busy to write letters. + Everywhere he was welcomed by great audiences, and everywhere + lavishly entertained. He was beset by other carbuncles, but would + seem not to have been seriously delayed by them. A letter to his + old friend Twichell carries the story. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Rev. Jos. H. Twichell, in Hartford: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FRANK MOELLER'S MASONIC HOTEL, + NAPIER, NEW ZEALAND, + November 29, '95. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR JOE,—Your welcome letter of two months and five days ago has + just arrived, and finds me in bed with another carbuncle. It is No. 3. Not + a serious one this time. I lectured last night without inconvenience, but + the doctors thought best to forbid to-night's lecture. My second one kept + me in bed a week in Melbourne. + </p> + <p> + ... We are all glad it is you who is to write the article, it delights us + all through. + </p> + <p> + I think it was a good stroke of luck that knocked me on my back here at + Napier, instead of some hotel in the centre of a noisy city. Here we have + the smooth and placidly-complaining sea at our door, with nothing between + us and it but 20 yards of shingle—and hardly a suggestion of life in + that space to mar it or make a noise. Away down here fifty-five degrees + south of the Equator this sea seems to murmur in an unfamiliar tongue—a + foreign tongue—tongue bred among the ice-fields of the Antarctic—a + murmur with a note of melancholy in it proper to the vast unvisited + solitudes it has come from. It was very delicious and solacing to wake in + the night and find it still pulsing there. I wish you were here—land, + but it would be fine! + </p> + <p> + Livy and Clara enjoy this nomadic life pretty well; certainly better than + one could have expected they would. They have tough experiences, in the + way of food and beds and frantic little ships, but they put up with the + worst that befalls with heroic endurance that resembles contentment. + </p> + <p> + No doubt I shall be on the platform next Monday. A week later we shall + reach Wellington; talk there 3 nights, then sail back to Australia. We + sailed for New Zealand October 30. + </p> + <p> + Day before yesterday was Livy's birthday (under world time), and tomorrow + will be mine. I shall be 60—no thanks for it. + </p> + <p> + I and the others send worlds and worlds of love to all you dear ones. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MARK. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The article mentioned in the foregoing letter was one which Twichell + had been engaged by Harper's Magazine to write concerning the home + life and characteristics of Mark Twain. By the time the Clemens + party had completed their tour of India—a splendid, triumphant + tour, too full of work and recreation for letter-writing—and had + reached South Africa, the article had appeared, a satisfactory one, + if we may judge by Mark Twain's next. + + This letter, however, has a special interest in the account it gives + of Mark Twain's visit to the Jameson raiders, then imprisoned at + Pretoria. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Rev. Jos. H. Twichell, in Hartford: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + PRETORIA, SOUTH AFRICAN REPUBLIC, + The Queen's Birthday, '96. + (May 24) +</pre> + <p> + DEAR OLD JOE,—Harper for May was given to me yesterday in + Johannesburg by an American lady who lives there, and I read your article + on me while coming up in the train with her and an old friend and + fellow-Missourian of mine, Mrs. John Hays Hammond, the handsome and + spirited wife of the chief of the 4 Reformers, who lies in prison here + under a 15-year sentence, along with 50 minor Reformers who are in for 1 + and 5-year terms. Thank you a thousand times Joe, you have praised me away + above my deserts, but I am not the man to quarrel with you for that; and + as for Livy, she will take your very hardiest statements at par, and be + grateful to you to the bottom of her heart. Between you and Punch and + Brander Matthews, I am like to have my opinion of myself raised + sufficiently high; and I guess the children will be after you, for it is + the study of their lives to keep my self-appreciation down somewhere + within bounds. + </p> + <p> + I had a note from Mrs. Rev. Gray (nee Tyler) yesterday, and called on her + to-day. She is well. + </p> + <p> + Yesterday I was allowed to enter the prison with Mrs. Hammond. A Boer + guard was at my elbow all the time, but was courteous and polite, only he + barred the way in the compound (quadrangle or big open court) and wouldn't + let me cross a white mark that was on the ground—the “death-line” + one of the prisoners called it. Not in earnest, though, I think. I found + that I had met Hammond once when he was a Yale senior and a guest of Gen. + Franklin's. I also found that I had known Capt. Mein intimately 32 years + ago. One of the English prisoners had heard me lecture in London 23 years + ago. After being introduced in turn to all the prisoners, I was allowed to + see some of the cells and examine their food, beds, etc. I was told in + Johannesburg that Hammond's salary of $150,000 a year is not stopped, and + that the salaries of some of the others are still continued. Hammond was + looking very well indeed, and I can say the same of all the others. When + the trouble first fell upon them it hit some of them very hard; several + fell sick (Hammond among them), two or three had to be removed to the + hospital, and one of the favorites lost his mind and killed himself, poor + fellow, last week. His funeral, with a sorrowing following of 10,000, took + the place of the public demonstration the Americans were getting up for + me. + </p> + <p> + These prisoners are strong men, prominent men, and I believe they are all + educated men. They are well off; some of them are wealthy. They have a lot + of books to read, they play games and smoke, and for awhile they will be + able to bear up in their captivity; but not for long, not for very long, I + take it. I am told they have times of deadly brooding and depression. I + made them a speech—sitting down. It just happened so. I don't prefer + that attitude. Still, it has one advantage—it is only a talk, it + doesn't take the form of a speech. I have tried it once before on this + trip. However, if a body wants to make sure of having “liberty,” and + feeling at home, he had better stand up, of course. I advised them at + considerable length to stay where they were—they would get used to + it and like it presently; if they got out they would only get in again + somewhere else, by the look of their countenances; and I promised to go + and see the President and do what I could to get him to double their + jail-terms. + </p> + <p> + We had a very good sociable time till the permitted time was up and a + little over, and we outsiders had to go. I went again to-day, but the Rev. + Mr. Gray had just arrived, and the warden, a genial, elderly Boer named Du + Plessis—explained that his orders wouldn't allow him to admit saint + and sinner at the same time, particularly on a Sunday. Du Plessis—descended + from the Huguenot fugitives, you see, of 200 years ago—but he hasn't + any French left in him now—all Dutch. + </p> + <p> + It gravels me to think what a goose I was to make Livy and Clara remain in + Durban; but I wanted to save them the 30-hour railway trip to + Johannesburg. And Durban and its climate and opulent foliage were so + lovely, and the friends there were so choice and so hearty that I + sacrificed myself in their interests, as I thought. It is just the + beginning of winter, and although the days are hot, the nights are cool. + But it's lovely weather in these regions, too; and the friends are as + lovely as the weather, and Johannesburg and Pretoria are brimming with + interest. I talk here twice more, then return to Johannesburg next + Wednesday for a fifth talk there; then to the Orange Free State capital, + then to some town on the way to Port Elizabeth, where the two will join us + by sea from Durban; then the gang will go to Kimberley and presently to + the Cape—and so, in the course of time, we shall get through and + sail for England; and then we will hunt up a quiet village and I will + write and Livy edit, for a few months, while Clara and Susy and Jean study + music and things in London. + </p> + <p> + We have had noble good times everywhere and every day, from Cleveland, + July 15, to Pretoria, May 24, and never a dull day either on sea or land, + notwithstanding the carbuncles and things. Even when I was laid up 10 days + at Jeypore in India we had the charmingest times with English friends. All + over India the English well, you will never know how good and fine they + are till you see them. + </p> + <p> + Midnight and after! and I must do many things to-day, and lecture tonight. + </p> + <p> + A world of thanks to you, Joe dear, and a world of love to all of you. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MARK. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Perhaps for readers of a later day a word as to what constituted the + Jameson raid would not be out of place here. Dr. Leander Starr + Jameson was an English physician, located at Kimberley. President + Kruger (Oom Paul), head of the South African Republic, was one of + his patients; also, Lobengula, the Matabele chief. From Lobengula + concessions were obtained which led to the formation of the South + African Company. Jameson gave up his profession and went in for + conquest, associating himself with the projects of Cecil Rhodes. + In time he became administrator of Rhodesia. By the end of 1894. + he was in high feather, and during a visit to England was feted as + a sort of romantic conqueror of the olden time. Perhaps this turned + his head; at all events at the end of 1895 came the startling news + that “Dr. Jim,” as he was called, at the head of six hundred men, + had ridden into the Transvaal in support of a Rhodes scheme for an + uprising at Johannesburg. The raid was a failure. Jameson, and + those other knights of adventure, were captured by the forces of + “Oom Paul,” and some of them barely escaped execution. The Boer + president handed them over to the English Government for punishment, + and they received varying sentences, but all were eventually + released. Jameson, later, became again prominent in South-African + politics, but there is no record of any further raids. + + ......................... + + The Clemens party sailed from South Africa the middle of July, 1896, + and on the last day of the month reached England. They had not + planned to return to America, but to spend the winter in or near + London in some quiet place where Clemens could write the book of his + travels. + + The two daughters in America, Susy and Jean, were expected to arrive + August 12th, but on that day there came, instead, a letter saying + that Susy Clemens was not well enough to sail. A cable inquiry was + immediately sent, but the reply when it came was not satisfactory, + and Mrs. Clemens and Clara sailed for America without further delay. + This was on August 15th. Three days later, in the old home at + Hartford, Susy Clemens died of cerebral fever. She had been + visiting Mrs. Charles Dudley Warner, but by the physician's advice + had been removed to the comfort and quiet of her own home, only a + few steps away. + + Mark Twain, returning from his triumphant tour of the world in the + hope that soon, now, he might be free from debt, with his family + happily gathered about him, had to face alone this cruel blow. + There was no purpose in his going to America; Susy would be buried + long before his arrival. He awaited in England the return of his + broken family. They lived that winter in a quiet corner of Chelsea, + No. 23 Tedworth Square. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Rev. Joseph H. Twichell, in Hartford, Conn.: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Permanent address: + % CHATTO & WINDUS + 111 T. MARTIN'S LANE, LONDON, + Sept. 27, '96. +</pre> + <p> + Through Livy and Katy I have learned, dear old Joe, how loyally you stood + poor Susy's friend, and mine, and Livy's: how you came all the way down, + twice, from your summer refuge on your merciful errands to bring the peace + and comfort of your beloved presence, first to that poor child, and again + to the broken heart of her poor desolate mother. It was like you; like + your good great heart, like your matchless and unmatchable self. It was no + surprise to me to learn that you stayed by Susy long hours, careless of + fatigue and heat, it was no surprise to me to learn that you could still + the storms that swept her spirit when no other could; for she loved you, + revered you, trusted you, and “Uncle Joe” was no empty phrase upon her + lips! I am grateful to you, Joe, grateful to the bottom of my heart, which + has always been filled with love for you, and respect and admiration; and + I would have chosen you out of all the world to take my place at Susy's + side and Livy's in those black hours. + </p> + <p> + Susy was a rare creature; the rarest that has been reared in Hartford in + this generation. And Livy knew it, and you knew it, and Charley Warner and + George, and Harmony, and the Hillyers and the Dunhams and the Cheneys, and + Susy and Lilly, and the Bunces, and Henry Robinson and Dick Burton, and + perhaps others. And I also was of the number, but not in the same degree—for + she was above my duller comprehension. I merely knew that she was my + superior in fineness of mind, in the delicacy and subtlety of her + intellect, but to fully measure her I was not competent. I know her better + now; for I have read her private writings and sounded the deeps of her + mind; and I know better, now, the treasure that was mine than I knew it + when I had it. But I have this consolation: that dull as I was, I always + knew enough to be proud when she commended me or my work—as proud as + if Livy had done it herself—and I took it as the accolade from the + hand of genius. I see now—as Livy always saw—that she had + greatness in her; and that she herself was dimly conscious of it. + </p> + <p> + And now she is dead—and I can never tell her. + </p> + <p> + God bless you Joe—and all of your house. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + S. L. C. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Mr. Henry C. Robinson, Hartford, Conn.: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + LONDON, Sept. 28, '96. +</pre> + <p> + It is as you say, dear old friend, “the pathos of it” yes, it was a + piteous thing—as piteous a tragedy as any the year can furnish. When + we started westward upon our long trip at half past ten at night, July 14, + 1895, at Elmira, Susy stood on the platform in the blaze of the electric + light waving her good-byes to us as the train glided away, her mother + throwing back kisses and watching her through her tears. One year, one + month, and one week later, Clara and her mother having exactly completed + the circuit of the globe, drew up at that platform at the same hour of the + night, in the same train and the same car—and again Susy had come a + journey and was near at hand to meet them. She was waiting in the house + she was born in, in her coffin. + </p> + <p> + All the circumstances of this death were pathetic—my brain is worn + to rags rehearsing them. The mere death would have been cruelty enough, + without overloading it and emphasizing it with that score of harsh and + wanton details. The child was taken away when her mother was within three + days of her, and would have given three decades for sight of her. + </p> + <p> + In my despair and unassuageable misery I upbraid myself for ever parting + with her. But there is no use in that. Since it was to happen it would + have happened. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + With love + S. L. C. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The life at Tedworth Square that winter was one of almost complete + privacy. Of the hundreds of friends which Mark Twain had in London + scarcely half a dozen knew his address. He worked steadily on his + book of travels, 'Following the Equator', and wrote few letters + beyond business communications to Mr. Rogers. In one of these he + said, “I am appalled! Here I am trying to load you up with work + again after you have been dray-horsing over the same tiresome ground + for a year. It's too bad, and I am ashamed of it.” + + But late in November he sent a letter of a different sort—one that + was to have an important bearing on the life of a girl today of + unique and world-wide distinction. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Mrs. H. H. Rogers, in New York City: + </p> + <p> + For and in behalf of Helen Keller, stone blind and deaf, and formerly + dumb. + </p> + <p> + DEAR MRS. ROGERS,—Experience has convinced me that when one wishes + to set a hard-worked man at something which he mightn't prefer to be + bothered with, it is best to move upon him behind his wife. If she can't + convince him it isn't worth while for other people to try. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rogers will remember our visit with that astonishing girl at Lawrence + Hutton's house when she was fourteen years old. Last July, in Boston, when + she was 16 she underwent the Harvard examination for admission to + Radcliffe College. She passed without a single condition. She was allowed + the same amount of time that is granted to other applicants, and this was + shortened in her case by the fact that the question papers had to be read + to her. Yet she scored an average of 90 as against an average of 78 on the + part of the other applicants. + </p> + <p> + It won't do for America to allow this marvelous child to retire from her + studies because of poverty. If she can go on with them she will make a + fame that will endure in history for centuries. Along her special lines + she is the most extraordinary product of all the ages. + </p> + <p> + There is danger that she must retire from the struggle for a College + degree for lack of support for herself and for Miss Sullivan, (the teacher + who has been with her from the start—Mr. Rogers will remember her.) + Mrs. Hutton writes to ask me to interest rich Englishmen in her case, and + I would gladly try, but my secluded life will not permit it. I see nobody. + Nobody knows my address. Nothing but the strictest hiding can enable me to + write my long book in time. + </p> + <p> + So I thought of this scheme: Beg you to lay siege to your husband and get + him to interest himself and Mess. John D. and William Rockefeller and the + other Standard Oil chiefs in Helen's case; get them to subscribe an annual + aggregate of six or seven hundred or a thousand dollars—and agree to + continue this for three or four years, until she has completed her college + course. I'm not trying to limit their generosity—indeed no, they may + pile that Standard Oil, Helen Keller College Fund as high as they please, + they have my consent. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hutton's idea is to raise a permanent fund the interest upon which + shall support Helen and her teacher and put them out of the fear of want. + I shan't say a word against it, but she will find it a difficult and + disheartening job, and meanwhile what is to become of that miraculous + girl? + </p> + <p> + No, for immediate and sound effectiveness, the thing is for you to plead + with Mr. Rogers for this hampered wonder of your sex, and send him clothed + with plenary powers to plead with the other chiefs—they have spent + mountains of money upon the worthiest benevolences, and I think that the + same spirit which moved them to put their hands down through their hearts + into their pockets in those cases will answer “Here!” when its name is + called in this one. 638 + </p> + <p> + There—I don't need to apologize to you or to H. H. for this appeal + that I am making; I know you too well for that. + </p> + <p> + Good-bye with love to all of you + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> + <p> + Laurence Hutton is on the staff of Harper's Monthly—close by, and + handy when wanted. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The plea was not made in vain. Mr. and Mrs. Rogers interested + themselves most liberally in Helen Keller's fortune, and certainly + no one can say that any of those who contributed to her success ever + had reason for disappointment. + + In his letter of grateful acknowledgment, which follows, Clemens + also takes occasion to thank Mr. Rogers for his further efforts in + the matter of his own difficulties. This particular reference + concerns the publishing, complications which by this time had arisen + between the American Publishing Company, of Hartford, and the house + in Franklin Square. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + LONDON, Dec. 22, '96. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MRS. ROGERS,—It is superb! And I am beyond measure grateful to + you both. I knew you would be interested in that wonderful girl, and that + Mr. Rogers was already interested in her and touched by her; and I was + sure that if nobody else helped her you two would; but you have gone far + and away beyond the sum I expected—may your lines fall in pleasant + places here and Hereafter for it! + </p> + <p> + The Huttons are as glad and grateful as they can be, and I am glad for + their sakes as well as for Helen's. + </p> + <p> + I want to thank Mr. Rogers for crucifying himself again on the same old + cross between Bliss and Harper; and goodness knows I hope he will come to + enjoy it above all other dissipations yet, seeing that it has about it the + elements of stability and permanency. However, at any time that he says + sign, we're going to do it. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ever sincerely Yours + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXVI. LETTERS 1897. LONDON, SWITZERLAND, VIENNA + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mark Twain worked steadily on his book that sad winter and + managed to keep the gloom out of his chapters, though it is + noticeable that 'Following the Equator' is more serious than + his other books of travel. He wrote few letters, and these + only to his three closest friends, Howells, Twichell, and + Rogers. In the letter to Twichell, which follows, there is + mention of two unfinished manuscripts which he expects to + resume. One of these was a dream story, enthusiastically + begun, but perhaps with insufficient plot to carry it + through, for it never reached conclusion. He had already + tried it in one or two forms and would begin it again + presently. The identity of the other tale is uncertain. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Rev. J. H. Twichell, in Hartford: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + LONDON, Jan. 19, '97. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR JOE,—Do I want you to write to me? Indeed I do. I do not want + most people to write, but I do want you to do it. The others break my + heart, but you will not. You have a something divine in you that is not in + other men. You have the touch that heals, not lacerates. And you know the + secret places of our hearts. You know our life—the outside of it—as + the others do—and the inside of it—which they do not. You have + seen our whole voyage. You have seen us go to sea, a cloud of sail—and + the flag at the peak; and you see us now, chartless, adrift—derelicts; + battered, water-logged, our sails a ruck of rags, our pride gone. For it + is gone. And there is nothing in its place. The vanity of life was all we + had, and there is no more vanity left in us. We are even ashamed of that + we had; ashamed that we trusted the promises of life and builded high—to + come to this! + </p> + <p> + I did know that Susy was part of us; I did not know that she could go + away; I did not know that she could go away, and take our lives with her, + yet leave our dull bodies behind. And I did not know what she was. To me + she was but treasure in the bank; the amount known, the need to look at it + daily, handle it, weigh it, count it, realize it, not necessary; and now + that I would do it, it is too late; they tell me it is not there, has + vanished away in a night, the bank is broken, my fortune is gone, I am a + pauper. How am I to comprehend this? How am I to have it? Why am I robbed, + and who is benefited? + </p> + <p> + Ah, well, Susy died at home. She had that privilege. Her dying eyes rested + upon nothing that was strange to them, but only upon things which they had + known and loved always and which had made her young years glad; and she + had you, and Sue, and Katy, and John, and Ellen. This was happy fortune—I + am thankful that it was vouchsafed to her. If she had died in another + house-well, I think I could not have borne that. To us, our house was not + unsentient matter—it had a heart, and a soul, and eyes to see us + with; and approvals, and solicitudes, and deep sympathies; it was of us, + and we were in its confidence, and lived in its grace and in the peace of + its benediction. We never came home from an absence that its face did not + light up and speak out its eloquent welcome—and we could not enter + it unmoved. And could we now, oh, now, in spirit we should enter it + unshod. + </p> + <p> + I am trying to add to the “assets” which you estimate so generously. No, I + am not. The thought is not in my mind. My purpose is other. I am working, + but it is for the sake of the work—the “surcease of sorrow” that is + found there. I work all the days, and trouble vanishes away when I use + that magic. This book will not long stand between it and me, now; but that + is no matter, I have many unwritten books to fly to for my preservation; + the interval between the finishing of this one and the beginning of the + next will not be more than an hour, at most. Continuances, I mean; for two + of them are already well along—in fact have reached exactly the same + stage in their journey: 19,000 words each. The present one will contain + 180,000 words—130,000 are done. I am well protected; but Livy! She + has nothing in the world to turn to; nothing but housekeeping, and doing + things for the children and me. She does not see people, and cannot; books + have lost their interest for her. She sits solitary; and all the day, and + all the days, wonders how it all happened, and why. We others were always + busy with our affairs, but Susy was her comrade—had to be driven + from her loving persecutions—sometimes at 1 in the morning. To Livy + the persecutions were welcome. It was heaven to her to be plagued like + that. But it is ended now. Livy stands so in need of help; and none among + us all could help her like you. + </p> + <p> + Some day you and I will walk again, Joe, and talk. I hope so. We could + have such talks! We are all grateful to you and Harmony—how grateful + it is not given to us to say in words. We pay as we can, in love; and in + this coin practicing no economy. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Good bye, dear old Joe! + MARK. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The letters to Mr. Rogers were, for the most part, on matters of + business, but in one of them he said: “I am going to write with all + my might on this book, and follow it up with others as fast as I can + in the hope that within three years I can clear out the stuff that + is in me waiting to be written, and that I shall then die in the + promptest kind of a way and no fooling around.” And in one he + wrote: “You are the best friend ever a man had, and the surest.” + </pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To W. D. Howells, in New York + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + LONDON, Feb. 23, '97. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR HOWELLS,—I find your generous article in the Weekly, and I want + to thank you for its splendid praises, so daringly uttered and so warmly. + The words stir the dead heart of me, and throw a glow of color into a life + which sometimes seems to have grown wholly wan. I don't mean that I am + miserable; no—worse than that—indifferent. Indifferent to + nearly everything but work. I like that; I enjoy it, and stick to it. I do + it without purpose and without ambition; merely for the love of it. + </p> + <p> + This mood will pass, some day—there is history for it. But it cannot + pass until my wife comes up out of the submergence. She was always so + quick to recover herself before, but now there is no rebound, and we are + dead people who go through the motions of life. Indeed I am a mud image, + and it will puzzle me to know what it is in me that writes, and has + comedy-fancies and finds pleasure in phrasing them. It is a law of our + nature, of course, or it wouldn't happen; the thing in me forgets the + presence of the mud image and goes its own way, wholly unconscious of it + and apparently of no kinship with it. I have finished my book, but I go on + as if the end were indefinitely away—as indeed it is. There is no + hurry—at any rate there is no limit. + </p> + <p> + Jean's spirits are good; Clara's are rising. They have youth—the + only thing that was worth giving to the race. + </p> + <p> + These are sardonic times. Look at Greece, and that whole shabby muddle. + But I am not sorry to be alive and privileged to look on. If I were not a + hermit I would go to the House every day and see those people scuffle over + it and blether about the brotherhood of the human race. This has been a + bitter year for English pride, and I don't like to see England humbled—that + is, not too much. We are sprung from her loins, and it hurts me. I am for + republics, and she is the only comrade we've got, in that. We can't count + France, and there is hardly enough of Switzerland to count. Beneath the + governing crust England is sound-hearted—and sincere, too, and + nearly straight. But I am appalled to notice that the wide extension of + the surface has damaged her manners, and made her rather Americanly + uncourteous on the lower levels. + </p> + <p> + Won't you give our love to the Howellses all and particular? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sincerely yours + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The travel-book did not finish easily, and more than once when he + thought it completed he found it necessary to cut and add and + change. The final chapters were not sent to the printer until the + middle of May, and in a letter to Mr. Rogers he commented: “A + successful book is not made of what is in it, but what is left out + of it.” Clemens was at the time contemplating a uniform edition of + his books, and in one of his letters to Mr. Rogers on the matter he + wrote, whimsically, “Now I was proposing to make a thousand sets at + a hundred dollars a set, and do the whole canvassing myself..... I + would load up every important jail and saloon in America with de + luxe editions of my books. But Mrs. Clemens and the children object + to this, I do not know why.” And, in a moment of depression: “You + see the lightning refuses to strike me—there is where the defect + is. We have to do our own striking as Barney Barnato did. But + nobody ever gets the courage until he goes crazy.” + + They went to Switzerland for the summer to the village of Weggis, on + Lake Lucerne—“The charmingest place we ever lived in,” he declared, + “for repose, and restfulness, and superb scenery.” It was here that + he began work on a new story of Tom and Huck, and at least upon one + other manuscript. From a brief note to Mr. Rogers we learn + something of his employments and economies. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Henry H. Rogers, in New York: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + LUCERNE, August the something or other, 1897. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. ROGERS,—I am writing a novel, and am getting along very + well with it. + </p> + <p> + I believe that this place (Weggis, half an hour from Lucerne,) is the + loveliest in the world, and the most satisfactory. We have a small house + on the hillside all to ourselves, and our meals are served in it from the + inn below on the lake shore. Six francs a day per head, house and food + included. The scenery is beyond comparison beautiful. We have a row boat + and some bicycles, and good roads, and no visitors. Nobody knows we are + here. And Sunday in heaven is noisy compared to this quietness. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sincerely yours + S. L. C. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Rev. J. H. Twichell, in Hartford: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + LUCERNE, Aug. 22, '97. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR JOE,—Livy made a noble find on the Lucerne boat the other day + on one of her shopping trips—George Williamson Smith—did I + tell you about it? We had a lovely time with him, and such intellectual + refreshment as we had not tasted in many a month. + </p> + <p> + And the other night we had a detachment of the jubilee Singers—6. I + had known one of them in London 24 years ago. Three of the 6 were born in + slavery, the others were children of slaves. How charming they were—in + spirit, manner, language, pronunciation, enunciation, grammar, phrasing, + matter, carriage, clothes—in every detail that goes to make the real + lady and gentleman, and welcome guest. We went down to the village hotel + and bought our tickets and entered the beer-hall, where a crowd of German + and Swiss men and women sat grouped at round tables with their beer mugs + in front of them—self-contained and unimpressionable looking people, + an indifferent and unposted and disheartened audience—and up at the + far end of the room sat the Jubilees in a row. The Singers got up and + stood—the talking and glass jingling went on. Then rose and swelled + out above those common earthly sounds one of those rich chords the secret + of whose make only the Jubilees possess, and a spell fell upon that house. + It was fine to see the faces light up with the pleased wonder and surprise + of it. No one was indifferent any more; and when the singers finished, the + camp was theirs. It was a triumph. It reminded me of Launcelot riding in + Sir Kay's armor and astonishing complacent Knights who thought they had + struck a soft thing. The Jubilees sang a lot of pieces. Arduous and + painstaking cultivation has not diminished or artificialized their music, + but on the contrary—to my surprise—has mightily reinforced its + eloquence and beauty. Away back in the beginning—to my mind—their + music made all other vocal music cheap; and that early notion is + emphasized now. It is utterly beautiful, to me; and it moves me infinitely + more than any other music can. I think that in the Jubilees and their + songs America has produced the perfectest flower of the ages; and I wish + it were a foreign product, so that she would worship it and lavish money + on it and go properly crazy over it. + </p> + <p> + Now, these countries are different: they would do all that, if it were + native. It is true they praise God, but that is merely a formality, and + nothing in it; they open out their whole hearts to no foreigner. + </p> + <p> + The musical critics of the German press praise the Jubilees with great + enthusiasm—acquired technique etc, included. + </p> + <p> + One of the jubilee men is a son of General Joe Johnson, and was educated + by him after the war. The party came up to the house and we had a pleasant + time. + </p> + <p> + This is paradise, here—but of course we have got to leave it by and + by. The 18th of August—[Anniversary of Susy Clemens's death.]—has + come and gone, Joe—and we still seem to live. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + With love from us all. + MARK. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Clemens declared he would as soon spend his life in Weggis “as + anywhere else in the geography,” but October found them in Vienna + for the winter, at the Hotel Metropole. The Austrian capital was + just then in a political turmoil, the character of which is hinted + in the following: +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Rev. J. H. Twichell, in Hartford: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HOTEL METROPOLE, + VIENNA, Oct. 23, '97. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR JOE,—We are gradually getting settled down and wonted. Vienna + is not a cheap place to live in, but I have made one small arrangement + which: has a distinctly economical aspect. The Vice Consul made the + contract for me yesterday-to-wit: a barber is to come every morning 8.30 + and shave me and keep my hair trimmed for $2.50 a month. I used to pay + $1.50 per shave in our house in Hartford. + </p> + <p> + Does it suggest to you reflections when you reflect that this is the most + important event which has happened to me in ten days—unless I count—in + my handing a cabman over to the police day before yesterday, with the + proper formalities, and promised to appear in court when his case comes + up. + </p> + <p> + If I had time to run around and talk, I would do it; for there is much + politics agoing, and it would be interesting if a body could get the hang + of it. It is Christian and Jew by the horns—the advantage with the + superior man, as usual—the superior man being the Jew every time and + in all countries. Land, Joe, what chance would the Christian have in a + country where there were 3 Jews to 10 Christians! Oh, not the shade of a + shadow of a chance. The difference between the brain of the average + Christian and that of the average Jew—certainly in Europe—is + about the difference between a tadpole's and an Archbishop's. It's a + marvelous, race—by long odds the most marvelous that the world has + produced, I suppose. + </p> + <p> + And there's more politics—the clash between Czech and Austrian. I + wish I could understand these quarrels, but of course I can't. + </p> + <p> + With the abounding love of us all + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MARK. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In Following the Equator there was used an amusing picture showing + Mark Twain on his trip around the world. It was a trick photograph + made from a picture of Mark Twain taken in a steamer-chair, cut out + and combined with a dilapidated negro-cart drawn by a horse and an + ox. In it Clemens appears to be sitting luxuriously in the end of + the disreputable cart. His companions are two negroes. To the + creator of this ingenious effect Mark Twain sent a characteristic + acknowledgment. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To T. S. Frisbie + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + VIENNA, Oct. 25, '97. +</pre> + <p> + MR. T. S. FRISBIE,—Dear Sir: The picture has reached me, and has + moved me deeply. That was a steady, sympathetic and honorable team, and + although it was not swift, and not showy, it pulled me around the globe + successfully, and always attracted its proper share of attention, even in + the midst of the most costly and fashionable turnouts. Princes and dukes + and other experts were always enthused by the harness and could hardly + keep from trying to buy it. The barouche does not look as fine, now, as it + did earlier-but that was before the earthquake. + </p> + <p> + The portraits of myself and uncle and nephew are very good indeed, and + your impressionist reproduction of the palace of the Governor General of + India is accurate and full of tender feeling. + </p> + <p> + I consider that this picture is much more than a work of art. How much + more, one cannot say with exactness, but I should think two-thirds more. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Very truly yours + MARK TWAIN. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Following the Equator was issued by subscription through Mark + Twain's old publishers, the Blisses, of Hartford. The sale of it + was large, not only on account of the value of the book itself, but + also because of the sympathy of the American people with Mark + Twain's brave struggle to pay his debts. When the newspapers began + to print exaggerated stories of the vast profits that were piling + up, Bliss became worried, for he thought it would modify the + sympathy. He cabled Clemens for a denial, with the following + result: +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Frank E. Bliss, in Hartford: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + VIENNA, Nov. 4, 1897. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR BLISS,—Your cablegram informing me that a report is in + circulation which purports to come from me and which says I have recently + made $82,000 and paid all my debts has just reached me, and I have cabled + back my regret to you that it is not true. I wrote a letter—a + private letter—a short time ago, in which I expressed the belief + that I should be out of debt within the next twelvemonth. If you make as + much as usual for me out of the book, that belief will crystallize into a + fact, and I shall be wholly out of debt. I am encoring you now. + </p> + <p> + It is out of that moderate letter that the Eighty-Two Thousand-Dollar + mare's nest has developed. But why do you worry about the various reports? + They do not worry me. They are not unfriendly, and I don't see how they + can do any harm. Be patient; you have but a little while to wait; the + possible reports are nearly all in. It has been reported that I was + seriously ill—it was another man; dying—it was another man; + dead—the other man again. It has been reported that I have received + a legacy it was another man; that I am out of debt—it was another + man; and now comes this $82,000—still another man. It has been + reported that I am writing books—for publication; I am not doing + anything of the kind. It would surprise (and gratify) me if I should be + able to get another book ready for the press within the next three years. + You can see, yourself, that there isn't anything more to be reported—invention + is exhausted. Therefore, don't worry, Bliss—the long night is + breaking. As far as I can see, nothing remains to be reported, except that + I have become a foreigner. When you hear it, don't you believe it. And + don't take the trouble to deny it. Merely just raise the American flag on + our house in Hartford, and let it talk. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Truly yours, + MARK TWAIN. +</pre> + <p> + P. S. This is not a private letter. I am getting tired of private letters. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Rev. J. H. Twichell, in Hartford: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + VIENNA + HOTEL METROPOLE, NOV. 19, '97. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR JOE,—Above is our private (and permanent) address for the + winter. You needn't send letters by London. + </p> + <p> + I am very much obliged for Forrest's Austro-Hungarian articles. I have + just finished reading the first one: and in it I find that his opinion and + Vienna's are the same, upon a point which was puzzling me—the + paucity (no, the absence) of Austrian Celebrities. He and Vienna both say + the country cannot afford to allow great names to grow up; that the whole + safety and prosperity of the Empire depends upon keeping things quiet; + can't afford to have geniuses springing up and developing ideas and + stirring the public soul. I am assured that every time a man finds himself + blooming into fame, they just softly snake him down and relegate him to a + wholesome obscurity. It is curious and interesting. + </p> + <p> + Three days ago the New York World sent and asked a friend of mine + (correspondent of a London daily) to get some Christmas greetings from the + celebrities of the Empire. She spoke of this. Two or three bright + Austrians were present. They said “There are none who are known all over + the world! none who have achieved fame; none who can point to their work + and say it is known far and wide in the earth: there are no names; Kossuth + (known because he had a father) and Lecher, who made the 12 hour speech; + two names-nothing more. Every other country in the world, perhaps, has a + giant or two whose heads are away up and can be seen, but ours. We've got + the material—have always had it—but we have to suppress it; we + can't afford to let it develop; our political salvation depends upon + tranquillity—always has.” + </p> + <p> + Poor Livy! She is laid up with rheumatism; but she is getting along now. + We have a good doctor, and he says she will be out of bed in a couple of + days, but must stay in the house a week or ten. + </p> + <p> + Clara is working faithfully at her music, Jean at her usual studies, and + we all send love. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MARK. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mention has already been made of the political excitement in Vienna. + The trouble between the Hungarian and German legislative bodies + presently became violent. Clemens found himself intensely + interested, and was present in one of the galleries when it was + cleared by the police. All sorts of stories were circulated as to + what happened to him, one of which was cabled to America. A letter + to Twichell sets forth what really happened. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Rev. J. H. Twichell, in Hartford: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HOTEL METROPOLE, + VIENNA, Dec. 10, '97. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR JOE,—Pond sends me a Cleveland paper with a cablegram from here + in it which says that when the police invaded the parliament and expelled + the 11 members I waved my handkerchief and shouted 'Hoch die Deutschen!' + and got hustled out. Oh dear, what a pity it is that one's adventures + never happen! When the Ordner (sergeant-at-arms) came up to our gallery + and was hurrying the people out, a friend tried to get leave for me to + stay, by saying, “But this gentleman is a foreigner—you don't need + to turn him out—he won't do any harm.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know him very well—I recognize him by his pictures; and I + should be very glad to let him stay, but I haven't any choice, because of + the strictness of the orders.” + </p> + <p> + And so we all went out, and no one was hustled. Below, I ran across the + London Times correspondent, and he showed me the way into the first + gallery and I lost none of the show. The first gallery had not misbehaved, + and was not disturbed. + </p> + <p> + ... We cannot persuade Livy to go out in society yet, but all the lovely + people come to see her; and Clara and I go to dinner parties, and around + here and there, and we all have a most hospitable good time. Jean's + woodcarving flourishes, and her other studies. + </p> + <p> + Good-bye Joe—and we all love all of you. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MARK. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Clemens made an article of the Austrian troubles, one of the best + things he ever wrote, and certainly one of the clearest elucidations + of the Austro-Hungarian confusions. It was published in Harper's + Magazine, and is now included in his complete works. + + Thus far none of the Webster Company debts had been paid—at least, + none of importance. The money had been accumulating in Mr. Rogers's + hands, but Clemens was beginning to be depressed by the heavy + burden. He wrote asking for relief. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Fragment of a letter to H. H. Rogers, in New York: + </p> + <p> + DEAR MR. ROGERS,—I throw up the sponge. I pull down the flag. Let us + begin on the debts. I cannot bear the weight any longer. It totally unfits + me for work. I have lost three entire months now. In that time I have + begun twenty magazine articles and books—and flung every one of them + aside in turn. The debts interfered every time, and took the spirit out of + any work. And yet I have worked like a bond slave and wasted no time and + spared no effort—— + </p> + <p> + Rogers wrote, proposing a plan for beginning immediately upon the debts. + Clemens replied enthusiastically, and during the next few weeks wrote + every few days, expressing his delight in liquidation. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Extracts from letters to H. H. Rogers, in New York: +</pre> + <p> + ... We all delighted with your plan. Only don't leave B—out. + Apparently that claim has been inherited by some women—daughters, no + doubt. We don't want to see them lose any thing. B——- is an + ass, and disgruntled, but I don't care for that. I am responsible for the + money and must do the best I can to pay it..... I am writing hard—writing + for the creditors. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Dec. 29. +</pre> + <p> + Land we are glad to see those debts diminishing. For the first time in my + life I am getting more pleasure out of paying money out than pulling it + in. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Jan. 2. +</pre> + <p> + Since we have begun to pay off the debts I have abundant peace of mind + again—no sense of burden. Work is become a pleasure again—it + is not labor any longer. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + March 7. +</pre> + <p> + Mrs. Clemens has been reading the creditors' letters over and over again + and thanks you deeply for sending them, and says it is the only really + happy day she has had since Susy died. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXVII. LETTERS, 1898, TO HOWELLS AND TWICHELL. LIFE IN VIENNA. PAYMENT OF + THE DEBTS. ASSASSINATION OF THE EMPRESS. + </h2> + <p> + The end of January saw the payment of the last of Mark Twain's debts. Once + more he stood free before the world—a world that sounded his + praises. The latter fact rather amused him. “Honest men must be pretty + scarce,” he said, “when they make so much fuss over even a defective + specimen.” When the end was in sight Clemens wrote the news to Howells in + a letter as full of sadness as of triumph. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To W. D. Howells, in New York: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HOTEL METROPOLE, + VIENNA, Jan. 22, '98. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR HOWELLS,—Look at those ghastly figures. I used to write it + “Hartford, 1871.” There was no Susy then—there is no Susy now. And + how much lies between—one long lovely stretch of scented fields, and + meadows, and shady woodlands, and suddenly Sahara! You speak of the + glorious days of that old time—and they were. It is my quarrel—that + traps like that are set. Susy and Winnie given us, in miserable sport, and + then taken away. + </p> + <p> + About the last time I saw you I described to you the culminating disaster + in a book I was going to write (and will yet, when the stroke is further + away)—a man's dead daughter brought to him when he had been through + all other possible misfortunes—and I said it couldn't be done as it + ought to be done except by a man who had lived it—it must be written + with the blood out of a man's heart. I couldn't know, then, how soon I was + to be made competent. I have thought of it many a time since. If you were + here I think we could cry down each other's necks, as in your dream. For + we are a pair of old derelicts drifting around, now, with some of our + passengers gone and the sunniness of the others in eclipse. + </p> + <p> + I couldn't get along without work now. I bury myself in it up to the ears. + Long hours—8 and 9 on a stretch, sometimes. And all the days, + Sundays included. It isn't all for print, by any means, for much of it + fails to suit me; 50,000 words of it in the past year. It was because of + the deadness which invaded me when Susy died. But I have made a change + lately—into dramatic work—and I find it absorbingly + entertaining. I don't know that I can write a play that will play: but no + matter, I'll write half a dozen that won't, anyway. Dear me, I didn't know + there was such fun in it. I'll write twenty that won't play. I get into + immense spirits as soon as my day is fairly started. Of course a good deal + of this friskiness comes of my being in sight of land—on the Webster + & Co. debts, I mean. (Private.) We've lived close to the bone and + saved every cent we could, and there's no undisputed claim, now, that we + can't cash. I have marked this “private” because it is for the friends who + are attending to the matter for us in New York to reveal it when they want + to and if they want to. There are only two claims which I dispute and + which I mean to look into personally before I pay them. But they are + small. Both together they amount to only $12,500. I hope you will never + get the like of the load saddled onto you that was saddled onto me 3 years + ago. And yet there is such a solid pleasure in paying the things that I + reckon maybe it is worth while to get into that kind of a hobble, after + all. Mrs. Clemens gets millions of delight out of it; and the children + have never uttered one complaint about the scrimping, from the beginning. + </p> + <p> + We all send you and all of you our love. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MARK. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Howells wrote: “I wish you could understand how unshaken you are, + you old tower, in every way; your foundations are struck so deep + that you will catch the sunshine of immortal years, and bask in the + same light as Cervantes and Shakespeare.” + + The Clemens apartments at the Metropole became a sort of social + clearing-house of the Viennese art and literary life, much more like + an embassy than the home of a mere literary man. Celebrities in + every walk of life, persons of social and official rank, writers for + the press, assembled there on terms hardly possible in any other + home in Vienna. Wherever Mark Twain appeared in public he was a + central figure. Now and then he read or spoke to aid some benefit, + and these were great gatherings attended by members of the royal + family. It was following one such event that the next letter was + written. +</pre> + <p> + (Private) + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Rev. J. H. Twichell, in Hartford: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HOTEL METROPOLE, + VIENNA, Feb. 3, '98. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR JOE, There's that letter that I began so long ago—you see how + it is: can't get time to finish anything. I pile up lots of work, + nevertheless. There may be idle people in the world, but I'm not one of + them. I say “Private” up there because I've got an adventure to tell, and + you mustn't let a breath of it get out. First I thought I would lay it up + along with a thousand others that I've laid up for the same purpose—to + talk to you about, but—those others have vanished out of my memory; + and that must not happen with this. + </p> + <p> + The other night I lectured for a Vienna charity; and at the end of it Livy + and I were introduced to a princess who is aunt to the heir apparent of + the imperial throne—a beautiful lady, with a beautiful spirit, and + very cordial in her praises of my books and thanks to me for writing them; + and glad to meet me face to face and shake me by the hand—just the + kind of princess that adorns a fairy tale and makes it the prettiest tale + there is. + </p> + <p> + Very well, we long ago found that when you are noticed by supremacies, the + correct etiquette is to go, within a couple of days, and pay your respects + in the quite simple form of writing your name in the Visitors' Book kept + in the office of the establishment. That is the end of it, and everything + is squared up and ship-shape. + </p> + <p> + So at noon today Livy and I drove to the Archducal palace, and got by the + sentries all right, and asked the grandly-uniformed porter for the book + and said we wished to write our names in it. And he called a servant in + livery and was sending us up stairs; and said her Royal Highness was out + but would soon be in. Of course Livy said “No—no—we only want + the book;” but he was firm, and said, “You are Americans?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you are expected, please go up stairs.” + </p> + <p> + “But indeed we are not expected—please let us have the book and—” + </p> + <p> + “Her Royal Highness will be back in a very little while—she + commanded me to tell you so—and you must wait.” + </p> + <p> + Well, the soldiers were there close by—there was no use trying to + resist—so we followed the servant up; but when he tried to beguile + us into a drawing-room, Livy drew the line; she wouldn't go in. And she + wouldn't stay up there, either. She said the princess might come in at any + moment and catch us, and it would be too infernally ridiculous for + anything. So we went down stairs again—to my unspeakable regret. For + it was too darling a comedy to spoil. I was hoping and praying the + princess would come, and catch us up there, and that those other Americans + who were expected would arrive, and be taken for impostors by the portier, + and shot by the sentinels—and then it would all go into the papers, + and be cabled all over the world, and make an immense stir and be + perfectly lovely. And by that time the princess would discover that we + were not the right ones, and the Minister of War would be ordered out, and + the garrison, and they would come for us, and there would be another + prodigious time, and that would get cabled too, and—well, Joe, I was + in a state of perfect bliss. But happily, oh, so happily, that big portier + wouldn't let us out—he was sorry, but he must obey orders—we + must go back up stairs and wait. Poor Livy—I couldn't help but enjoy + her distress. She said we were in a fix, and how were we going to explain, + if the princess should arrive before the rightful Americans came? We went + up stairs again—laid off our wraps, and were conducted through one + drawing room and into another, and left alone there and the door closed + upon us. + </p> + <p> + Livy was in a state of mind! She said it was too theatrically ridiculous; + and that I would never be able to keep my mouth shut; that I would be sure + to let it out and it would get into the papers—and she tried to make + me promise—“Promise what?” I said—“to be quiet about this? + Indeed I won't—it's the best thing that ever happened; I'll tell it, + and add to it; and I wish Joe and Howells were here to make it perfect; I + can't make all the rightful blunders myself—it takes all three of us + to do justice to an opportunity like this. I would just like to see + Howells get down to his work and explain, and lie, and work his futile and + inventionless subterfuges when that princess comes raging in here and + wanting to know.” But Livy could not hear fun—it was not a time to + be trying to be funny—we were in a most miserable and shameful + situation, and if— + </p> + <p> + Just then the door spread wide and our princess and 4 more, and 3 little + princes flowed in! Our princess, and her sister the Archduchess Marie + Therese (mother to the imperial Heir and to the young girl Archduchesses + present, and aunt to the 3 little princes)—and we shook hands all + around and sat down and had a most sociable good time for half an hour—and + by and by it turned out that we were the right ones, and had been sent for + by a messenger who started too late to catch us at the hotel. We were + invited for 2 o'clock, but we beat that arrangement by an hour and a half. + </p> + <p> + Wasn't it a rattling good comedy situation? Seems a kind of pity we were + the right ones. It would have been such nuts to see the right ones come, + and get fired out, and we chatting along comfortably and nobody suspecting + us for impostors. + </p> + <p> + We send lots and lots of love. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MARK. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The reader who has followed these pages has seen how prone Mark + Twain was to fall a victim to the lure of a patent-right—how he + wasted several small fortunes on profitless contrivances, and one + large one on that insatiable demon of intricacy and despair, the + Paige type-setter. It seems incredible that, after that experience + and its attending disaster, he should have been tempted again. But + scarcely was the ink dry on the receipts from his creditors when he + was once more borne into the clouds on the prospect of millions, + perhaps even billions, to be made from a marvelous carpet-pattern + machine, the invention of Sczezepanik, an Austrian genius. That + Clemens appreciated his own tendencies is shown by the parenthetic + line with which he opens his letter on the subject to Mr. Rogers. + Certainly no man was ever a more perfect prototype of Colonel + Sellers than the creator of that lovely, irrepressible visionary. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Mr. Rogers, in New York: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + March 24, '98. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. ROGERS,—(I feel like Col. Sellers). + </p> + <p> + Mr. Kleinberg [agent for Sczezepanik] came according to appointment, at + 8.30 last night, and brought his English-speaking Secretary. I asked + questions about the auxiliary invention (which I call “No. 2 “) and got as + good an idea of it as I could. It is a machine. It automatically punches + the holes in the jacquard cards, and does it with mathematical accuracy. + It will do for $1 what now costs $3. So it has value, but “No. 2” is the + great thing (the designing invention.) It saves $9 out of $10 and the + jacquard looms must have it. + </p> + <p> + Then I arrived at my new project, and said to him in substance, this: + </p> + <p> + “You are on the point of selling the No. 2 patents to Belgium, Italy, etc. + I suggest that you stop those negotiations and put those people off two or + three months. They are anxious now, they will not be less anxious then—just + the reverse; people always want a thing that is denied them. + </p> + <p> + “So far as I know, no great world-patent has ever yet been placed in the + grip of a single corporation. This is a good time to begin. + </p> + <p> + “We have to do a good deal of guess-work here, because we cannot get hold + of just the statistics we want. Still, we have some good statistics—and + I will use those for a test. + </p> + <p> + “You say that of the 1500 Austrian textile factories, 800 use the + jacquard. Then we will guess that of the 4,000 American factories 2,000 + use the jacquard and must have our No. 2. + </p> + <p> + “You say that a middle-sized Austrian factory employs from 20 to 30 + designers and pays them from 800 to 3,000 odd florins a year—(a + florin is 2 francs). Let us call the average wage 1500 florins ($600). + </p> + <p> + “Let us apply these figures (the low wages too) to the 2,000 American + factories—with this difference, to guard against over-guessing; that + instead of allowing for 20 to 30 designers to a middle-sized factory, we + allow only an average of 10 to each of the 2,000 factories—a total + of 20,000 designers. Wages at $600, a total of $12,000,000. Let us + consider that No. 2 will reduce this expense to $2,000,000 a year. The + saving is $5,000,000 per each of the $200,000,000 of capital employed in + the jacquard business over there. + </p> + <p> + “Let us consider that in the countries covered by this patent, an + aggregate of $1,500,000,000 of capital is employed in factories requiring + No. 2. + </p> + <p> + “The saving (as above) is $75,000,000 a year. The Company holding in its + grip all these patents would collar $50,000,000 of that, as its share. + Possibly more. + </p> + <p> + “Competition would be at an end in the Jacquard business, on this planet. + Price-cutting would end. Fluctuations in values would cease. The business + would be the safest and surest in the world; commercial panics could not + seriously affect it; its stock would be as choice an investment as + Government bonds. When the patents died the Company would be so powerful + that it could still keep the whole business in its hands. Would you like + to grant me the privilege of placing the whole jacquard business of the + world in the grip of a single Company? And don't you think that the + business would grow-grow like a weed?” + </p> + <p> + “Ach, America—it is the country of the big! Let me get my breath—then + we will talk.” + </p> + <p> + So then we talked—talked till pretty late. Would Germany and England + join the combination? I said the Company would know how to persuade them. + </p> + <p> + Then I asked for a Supplementary Option, to cover the world, and we + parted. + </p> + <p> + I am taking all precautions to keep my name out of print in connection + with this matter. And we will now keep the invention itself out of print + as well as we can. Descriptions of it have been granted to the “Dry Goods + Economist” (New York) and to a syndicate of American papers. I have asked + Mr. Kleinberg to suppress these, and he feels pretty sure he can do it. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + With love, + S. L. C. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + If this splendid enthusiasm had not cooled by the time a reply came + from Mr. Rogers, it must have received a sudden chill from the + letter which he inclosed—the brief and concise report from a + carpet-machine expert, who said: “I do not feel that it would be of + any value to us in our mills, and the number of jacquard looms in + America is so limited that I am of the opinion that there is no + field for a company to develop the invention here. A cursory + examination of the pamphlet leads me to place no very high value + upon the invention, from a practical standpoint.” + + With the receipt of this letter carpet-pattern projects would seem + to have suddenly ceased to be a factor in Mark Twain's calculations. + Such a letter in the early days of the type-machine would have saved + him a great sum in money and years of disappointment. But perhaps + he would not have heeded it then. + + The year 1898 brought the Spanish-American War. Clemens was + constitutionally against all wars, but writing to Twichell, whose + son had enlisted, we gather that this one was an exception. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Rev. J. H. Twichell, in Hartford: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + KALTENLEUTGEBEN, NEAR VIENNA, + June 17, '98. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR JOE,—You are living your war-days over again in Dave, and it + must be a strong pleasure, mixed with a sauce of apprehension—enough + to make it just schmeck, as the Germans say. Dave will come out with two + or three stars on his shoulder-straps if the war holds, and then we shall + all be glad it happened. + </p> + <p> + We started with Bull Run, before. Dewey and Hobson have introduced an + improvement on the game this time. + </p> + <p> + I have never enjoyed a war-even in written history—as I am enjoying + this one. For this is the worthiest one that was ever fought, so far as my + knowledge goes. It is a worthy thing to fight for one's freedom; it is + another sight finer to fight for another man's. And I think this is the + first time it has been done. + </p> + <p> + Oh, never mind Charley Warner, he would interrupt the raising of Lazarus. + He would say, the will has been probated, the property distributed, it + will be a world of trouble to settle the rows—better leave well + enough alone; don't ever disturb anything, where it's going to break the + soft smooth flow of things and wobble our tranquillity. + </p> + <p> + Company! (Sh! it happens every day—and we came out here to be + quiet.) + </p> + <p> + Love to you all. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MARK. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + They were spending the summer at Kaltenleutgeben, a pleasant village + near Vienna, but apparently not entirely quiet. Many friends came + out from Vienna, including a number of visiting Americans. Clemens, + however, appears to have had considerable time for writing, as we + gather from the next to Howells. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To W. D. Howells, in America: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + KALTENLEUTGEBEN, BEI WIEN, + Aug. 16, '98. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR HOWELLS,—Your letter came yesterday. It then occurred to me + that I might have known (per mental telegraph) that it was due; for a + couple of weeks ago when the Weekly came containing that handsome + reference to me I was powerfully moved to write you; and my letter went on + writing itself while I was at work at my other literature during the day. + But next day my other literature was still urgent—and so on and so + on; so my letter didn't get put into ink at all. But I see now, that you + were writing, about that time, therefore a part of my stir could have come + across the Atlantic per mental telegraph. In 1876 or '75 I wrote 40,000 + words of a story called “Simon Wheeler” wherein the nub was the preventing + of an execution through testimony furnished by mental telegraph from the + other side of the globe. I had a lot of people scattered about the globe + who carried in their pockets something like the old mesmerizer-button, + made of different metals, and when they wanted to call up each other and + have a talk, they “pressed the button” or did something, I don't remember + what, and communication was at once opened. I didn't finish the story, + though I re-began it in several new ways, and spent altogether 70,000 + words on it, then gave it up and threw it aside. + </p> + <p> + This much as preliminary to this remark: some day people will be able to + call each other up from any part of the world and talk by mental telegraph—and + not merely by impression, the impression will be articulated into words. + It could be a terrible thing, but it won't be, because in the upper + civilizations everything like sentimentality (I was going to say + sentiment) will presently get materialized out of people along with the + already fading spiritualities; and so when a man is called who doesn't + wish to talk he will be like those visitors you mention: “not chosen”—and + will be frankly damned and shut off. + </p> + <p> + Speaking of the ill luck of starting a piece of literary work wrong-and + again and again; always aware that there is a way, if you could only think + it out, which would make the thing slide effortless from the pen—the + one right way, the sole form for you, the other forms being for men whose + line those forms are, or who are capabler than yourself: I've had no end + of experience in that (and maybe I am the only one—let us hope so.) + Last summer I started 16 things wrong—3 books and 13 mag. articles—and + could only make 2 little wee things, 1500 words altogether, succeed:—only + that out of piles and stacks of diligently-wrought MS., the labor of 6 + weeks' unremitting effort. I could make all of those things go if I would + take the trouble to re-begin each one half a dozen times on a new plan. + But none of them was important enough except one: the story I (in the + wrong form) mapped out in Paris three or four years ago and told you about + in New York under seal of confidence—no other person knows of it but + Mrs. Clemens—the story to be called “Which was the Dream?” + </p> + <p> + A week ago I examined the MS—10,000 words—and saw that the + plan was a totally impossible one-for me; but a new plan suggested itself, + and straightway the tale began to slide from the pen with ease and + confidence. I think I've struck the right one this time. I have already + put 12,000 words of it on paper and Mrs. Clemens is pretty outspokenly + satisfied with it-a hard critic to content. I feel sure that all of the + first half of the story—and I hope three-fourths—will be + comedy; but by the former plan the whole of it (except the first 3 + chapters) would have been tragedy and unendurable, almost. I think I can + carry the reader a long way before he suspects that I am laying a + tragedy-trap. In the present form I could spin 16 books out of it with + comfort and joy; but I shall deny myself and restrict it to one. (If you + should see a little short story in a magazine in the autumn called “My + Platonic Sweetheart” written 3 weeks ago) that is not this one. It may + have been a suggester, though. + </p> + <p> + I expect all these singular privacies to interest you, and you are not to + let on that they don't. + </p> + <p> + We are leaving, this afternoon, for Ischl, to use that as a base for the + baggage, and then gad around ten days among the lakes and mountains to + rest-up Mrs. Clemens, who is jaded with housekeeping. I hope I can get a + chance to work a little in spots—I can't tell. But you do it—therefore + why should you think I can't? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Remainder missing.] +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The dream story was never completed. It was the same that he had + worked on in London, and perhaps again in Switzerland. It would be + tried at other times and in other forms, but it never seemed to + accommodate itself to a central idea, so that the good writing in it + eventually went to waste. The short story mentioned, “My Platonic + Sweetheart,” a charming, idyllic tale, was not published during Mark + Twain's lifetime. Two years after his death it appeared in Harper's + Magazine. + + The assassination of the Empress of Austria at Geneva was the + startling event of that summer. In a letter to Twichell Clemens + presents the tragedy in a few vivid paragraphs. Later he treated it + at some length in a magazine article which, very likely because of + personal relations with members of the Austrian court, he withheld + from print. It has since been included in a volume of essays, What + Is Man, etc. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Rev. J. H. Twichell, in Hartford: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + KALTENLEUTGEBEN, Sep. 13, '98. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR JOE,—You are mistaken; people don't send us the magazines. No—Harper, + Century and McClure do; an example I should like to recommend to other + publishers. And so I thank you very much for sending me Brander's article. + When you say “I like Brander Matthews; he impresses me as a man of parts + and power,” I back you, right up to the hub—I feel the same way—. + And when you say he has earned your gratitude for cuffing me for my crimes + against the Leather stockings and the Vicar, I ain't making any objection. + Dern your gratitude! + </p> + <p> + His article is as sound as a nut. Brander knows literature, and loves it; + he can talk about it and keep his temper; he can state his case so lucidly + and so fairly and so forcibly that you have to agree with him, even when + you don't agree with him; and he can discover and praise such merits as a + book has, even when they are half a dozen diamonds scattered through an + acre of mud. And so he has a right to be a critic. + </p> + <p> + To detail just the opposite of the above invoice is to describe me. I + haven't any right to criticise books, and I don't do it except when I hate + them. I often want to criticise Jane Austen, but her books madden me so + that I can't conceal my frenzy from the reader; and therefore I have to + stop every time I begin. + </p> + <p> + That good and unoffending lady the Empress is killed by a mad-man, and I + am living in the midst of world-history again. The Queen's jubilee last + year, the invasion of the Reichsrath by the police, and now this murder, + which will still be talked of and described and painted a thousand years + from now. To have a personal friend of the wearer of the crown burst in at + the gate in the deep dusk of the evening and say in a voice broken with + tears, “My God the Empress is murdered,” and fly toward her home before we + can utter a question-why, it brings the giant event home to you, makes you + a part of it and personally interested; it is as if your neighbor Antony + should come flying and say “Caesar is butchered—the head of the + world is fallen!” + </p> + <p> + Of course there is no talk but of this. The mourning is universal and + genuine, the consternation is stupefying. The Austrian Empire is being + draped with black. Vienna will be a spectacle to see, by next Saturday, + when the funeral cortege marches. We are invited to occupy a room in the + sumptuous new hotel (the “Krantz” where we are to live during the Fall and + Winter) and view it, and we shall go. + </p> + <p> + Speaking of Mrs. Leiter, there is a noble dame in Vienna, about whom they + retail similar slanders. She said in French—she is weak in French—that + she had been spending a Sunday afternoon in a gathering of the + “demimonde.” Meaning the unknown land, that mercantile land, that + mysterious half-world which underlies the aristocracy. But these + Malaproperies are always inventions—they don't happen. + </p> + <p> + Yes, I wish we could have some talks; I'm full to the eye-lids. Had a + noble good one with Parker and Dunham—land, but we were grateful for + that visit! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yours with all our loves. + MARK. + + [Inclosed with the foregoing.] +</pre> + <p> + Among the inadequate attempts to account for the assassination we must + concede high rank to the German Emperor's. He justly describes it as a + “deed unparalleled for ruthlessness,” and then adds that it was “ordained + from above.” + </p> + <p> + I think this verdict will not be popular “above.” A man is either a free + agent or he isn't. If a man is a free agent, this prisoner is responsible + for what he has done; but if a man is not a free agent, if the deed was + ordained from above, there is no rational way of making this prisoner even + partially responsible for it, and the German court cannot condemn him + without manifestly committing a crime. Logic is logic; and by disregarding + its laws even Emperors as capable and acute as William II can be beguiled + into making charges which should not be ventured upon except in the + shelter of plenty of lightning-rods. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MARK. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The end of the year 1898 found Mark Twain once more in easy, even + luxurious, circumstances. The hard work and good fortune which had + enabled him to pay his debts had, in the course of another year, + provided what was comparative affluence: His report to Howells is + characteristic and interesting. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To W. D. Howells, in New York: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HOTEL KRANTZ, WIEN, L. NEVER MARKT 6 + Dec. 30, '98. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR HOWELLS,—I begin with a date—including all the details—though + I shall be interrupted presently by a South-African acquaintance who is + passing through, and it may be many days before I catch another leisure + moment. Note how suddenly a thing can become habit, and how indestructible + the habit is, afterward! In your house in Cambridge a hundred years ago, + Mrs. Howells said to me, “Here is a bunch of your letters, and the dates + are of no value, because you don't put any in—the years, anyway.” + That remark diseased me with a habit which has cost me worlds of time and + torture and ink, and millions of vain efforts and buckets of tears to + break it, and here it is yet—I could easier get rid of a virtue..... + </p> + <p> + I hope it will interest you (for I have no one else who would much care to + know it) that here lately the dread of leaving the children in difficult + circumstances has died down and disappeared and I am now having peace from + that long, long nightmare, and can sleep as well as anyone. Every little + while, for these three years, now, Mrs. Clemens has come with pencil and + paper and figured up the condition of things (she keeps the accounts and + the bank-book) and has proven to me that the clouds were lifting, and so + has hoisted my spirits temporarily and kept me going till another + figuring-up was necessary. Last night she figured up for her own + satisfaction, not mine, and found that we own a house and furniture in + Hartford; that my English and American copyrights pay an income which + represents a value of $200,000; and that we have $107,000 cash in the + bank. I have been out and bought a box of 6-cent cigars; I was smoking 4 + 1/2 centers before. + </p> + <p> + At the house of an English friend, on Christmas Eve, we saw the Mouse-Trap + played and well played. I thought the house would kill itself with + laughter. By George they played with life! and it was most devastatingly + funny. And it was well they did, for they put us Clemenses in the front + seat, and if they played it poorly I would have assaulted them. The head + young man and girl were Americans, the other parts were taken by English, + Irish and Scotch girls. Then there was a nigger-minstrel show, of the + genuine old sort, and I enjoyed that, too, for the nigger-show was always + a passion of mine. This one was created and managed by a Quaker doctor + from Philada., (23 years old) and he was the middle man. There were 9 + others—5 Americans from 5 States and a Scotchman, 2 Englishmen and + an Irishman—all post-graduate-medical young fellows, of course—or, + it could be music; but it would be bound to be one or the other. + </p> + <p> + It's quite true—I don't read you “as much as I ought,” nor anywhere + near half as much as I want to; still I read you all I get a chance to. I + saved up your last story to read when the numbers should be complete, but + before that time arrived some other admirer of yours carried off the + papers. I will watch admirers of yours when the Silver Wedding journey + begins, and that will not happen again. The last chance at a bound book of + yours was in London nearly two years ago—the last volume of your + short things, by the Harpers. I read the whole book twice through and some + of the chapters several times, and the reason that that was as far as I + got with it was that I lent it to another admirer of yours and he is + admiring it yet. Your admirers have ways of their own; I don't know where + they get them. + </p> + <p> + Yes, our project is to go home next autumn if we find we can afford to + live in New York. We've asked a friend to inquire about flats and + expenses. But perhaps nothing will come of it. We do afford to live in the + finest hotel in Vienna, and have 4 bedrooms, a dining-room, a + drawing-room, 3 bath-rooms and 3 Vorzimmers, (and food) but we couldn't + get the half of it in New York for the same money ($600 a month). + </p> + <p> + Susy hovers about us this holiday week, and the shadows fall all about us + of + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “The days when we went gipsying + A long time ago.” + </pre> + <p> + Death is so kind, so benignant, to whom he loves; but he goes by us others + and will not look our way. We saw the “Master of Palmyra” last night. How + Death, with the gentleness and majesty, made the human grand-folk around + him seem little and trivial and silly! + </p> + <p> + With love from all of us to all of you. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MARK. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXVIII. LETTERS, 1899, TO HOWELLS AND OTHERS. VIENNA. LONDON. A SUMMER IN + SWEDEN. + </h2> + <p> + The beginning of 1899 found the Clemens family still in Vienna, occupying + handsome apartments at the Hotel Krantz. Their rooms, so often thronged + with gay and distinguished people, were sometimes called the “Second + Embassy.” Clemens himself was the central figure of these assemblies. Of + all the foreign visitors in the Austrian capital he was the most notable. + Everywhere he was surrounded by a crowd of listeners—his sayings and + opinions were widely quoted. + </p> + <p> + A project for world disarmament promulgated by the Czar of Russia would + naturally interest Mark Twain, and when William T. Stead, of the Review of + Reviews, cabled him for an opinion on the matter, he sent at first a brief + word and on the same day followed it with more extended comment. The great + war which has since devastated the world gives to this incident an added + interest. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Wm. T. Stead, in London: + </p> + <p> + No. 1. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + VIENNA, Jan. 9. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. STEAD,—The Czar is ready to disarm: I am ready to disarm. + Collect the others, it should not be much of a task now. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MARK TWAIN. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Wm. T. Stead, in London: + </p> + <p> + No. 2. + </p> + <p> + DEAR MR. STEAD,—Peace by compulsion. That seems a better idea than + the other. Peace by persuasion has a pleasant sound, but I think we should + not be able to work it. We should have to tame the human race first, and + history seems to show that that cannot be done. Can't we reduce the + armaments little by little—on a pro rata basis—by concert of + the powers? Can't we get four great powers to agree to reduce their + strength 10 per cent a year and thrash the others into doing likewise? + For, of course, we cannot expect all of the powers to be in their right + minds at one time. It has been tried. We are not going to try to get all + of them to go into the scheme peaceably, are we? In that case I must + withdraw my influence; because, for business reasons, I must preserve the + outward signs of sanity. Four is enough if they can be securely harnessed + together. They can compel peace, and peace without compulsion would be + against nature and not operative. A sliding scale of reduction of 10 per + cent a year has a sort of plausible look, and I am willing to try that if + three other powers will join. I feel sure that the armaments are now many + times greater than necessary for the requirements of either peace or war. + Take wartime for instance. Suppose circumstances made it necessary for us + to fight another Waterloo, and that it would do what it did before—settle + a large question and bring peace. I will guess that 400,000 men were on + hand at Waterloo (I have forgotten the figures). In five hours they + disabled 50,000 men. It took them that tedious, long time because the + firearms delivered only two or three shots a minute. But we would do the + work now as it was done at Omdurman, with shower guns, raining 600 balls a + minute. Four men to a gun—is that the number? A hundred and fifty + shots a minute per man. Thus a modern soldier is 149 Waterloo soldiers in + one. Thus, also, we can now retain one man out of each 150 in service, + disband the others, and fight our Waterloos just as effectively as we did + eighty-five years ago. We should do the same beneficent job with 2,800 men + now that we did with 400,000 then. The allies could take 1,400 of the men, + and give Napoleon 1,400 and then whip him. + </p> + <p> + But instead what do we see? In war-time in Germany, Russia and France, + taken together we find about 8 million men equipped for the field. Each + man represents 149 Waterloo men, in usefulness and killing capacity. + Altogether they constitute about 350 million Waterloo men, and there are + not quite that many grown males of the human race now on this planet. Thus + we have this insane fact—that whereas those three countries could + arm 18,000 men with modern weapons and make them the equals of 3 million + men of Napoleon's day, and accomplish with them all necessary war work, + they waste their money and their prosperity creating forces of their + populations in piling together 349,982,000 extra Waterloo equivalents + which they would have no sort of use for if they would only stop drinking + and sit down and cipher a little. + </p> + <p> + Perpetual peace we cannot have on any terms, I suppose; but I hope we can + gradually reduce the war strength of Europe till we get it down to where + it ought to be—20,000 men, properly armed. Then we can have all the + peace that is worth while, and when we want a war anybody can afford it. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + VIENNA, January 9. +</pre> + <p> + P. S.—In the article I sent the figures are wrong—“350 + million” ought to be 450 million; “349,982,000” ought to be 449,982,000, + and the remark about the sum being a little more than the present number + of males on the planet—that is wrong, of course; it represents + really one and a half the existing males. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Now and then one of Mark Twain's old comrades still reached out to + him across the years. He always welcomed such letters—they came as + from a lost land of romance, recalled always with tenderness. He + sent light, chaffing replies, but they were never without an + undercurrent of affection. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Major “Jack” Downing, in Middleport, Ohio: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HOTEL KRANTZ, WEIN, I, NEUER MART 6, + Feb. 26, 1899. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MAJOR,—No: it was to Bixby that I was apprenticed. He was to + teach me the river for a certain specified sum. I have forgotten what it + was, but I paid it. I steered a trip for Bart Bowen, of Keokuk, on the A. + T. Lacy, and I was partner with Will Bowen on the A. B. Chambers (one + trip), and with Sam Bowen a whole summer on a small Memphis packet. + </p> + <p> + The newspaper report you sent me is incorrect. Bixby is not 67: he is 97. + I am 63 myself, and I couldn't talk plain and had just begun to walk when + I apprenticed myself to Bixby who was then passing himself off for 57 and + successfully too, for he always looked 60 or 70 years younger than he + really was. At that time he was piloting the Mississippi on a Potomac + commission granted him by George Washington who was a personal friend of + his before the Revolution. He has piloted every important river in + America, on that commission, he has also used it as a passport in Russia. + I have never revealed these facts before. I notice, too, that you are + deceiving the people concerning your age. The printed portrait which you + have enclosed is not a portrait of you, but a portrait of me when I was + 19. I remember very well when it was common for people to mistake Bixby + for your grandson. Is it spreading, I wonder—this disposition of + pilots to renew their youth by doubtful methods? Beck Jolly and Joe Bryan—they + probably go to Sunday school now—but it will not deceive. + </p> + <p> + Yes, it is as you say. All of the procession but a fraction has passed. It + is time for us all to fall in. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sincerely yours, + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To W. D. Howells, in New York: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HOTEL KRANTZ, WIEN I. NEUER MARKT 6 + April 2, '99. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR HOWELLS,—I am waiting for the April Harper, which is about due + now; waiting, and strongly interested. You are old enough to be a weary + man, with paling interests, but you do not show it. You do your work in + the same old delicate and delicious and forceful and searching and perfect + way. I don't know how you can—but I suspect. I suspect that to you + there is still dignity in human life, and that Man is not a joke—a + poor joke—the poorest that was ever contrived. Since I wrote my + Bible, (last year)—[“What Is Man.”]—which Mrs. Clemens + loathes, and shudders over, and will not listen to the last half nor allow + me to print any part of it, Man is not to me the respect-worthy person he + was before; and so I have lost my pride in him, and can't write gaily nor + praisefully about him any more. And I don't intend to try. I mean to go on + writing, for that is my best amusement, but I shan't print much (for I + don't wish to be scalped, any more than another.) + </p> + <p> + April 5. The Harper has come. I have been in Leipzig with your party, and + then went on to Karlsbad and saw Mrs. Marsh's encounter with the swine + with the toothpick and the other manners—[“Their Silver Wedding + Journey.”]—At this point Jean carried the magazine away. + </p> + <p> + Is it imagination, or—Anyway I seem to get furtive and fleeting + glimpses which I take to be the weariness and condolence of age; + indifference to sights and things once brisk with interest; tasteless + stale stuff which used to be champagne; the boredom of travel: the secret + sigh behind the public smile, the private What-in-hell-did-I-come-for! + </p> + <p> + But maybe that is your art. Maybe that is what you intend the reader to + detect and think he has made a Columbus-discovery. Then it is well done, + perfectly done. I wrote my last travel book—[Following the Equator.]—in + hell; but I let on, the best I could, that it was an excursion through + heaven. Some day I will read it, and if its lying cheerfulness fools me, + then I shall believe it fooled the reader. How I did loathe that journey + around the world!—except the sea-part and India. + </p> + <p> + Evening. My tail hangs low. I thought I was a financier—and I + bragged to you. I am not bragging, now. The stock which I sold at such a + fine profit early in January, has never ceased to advance, and is now + worth $60,000 more than I sold it for. I feel just as if I had been + spending $20,000 a month, and I feel reproached for this showy and + unbecoming extravagance. + </p> + <p> + Last week I was going down with the family to Budapest to lecture, and to + make a speech at a banquet. Just as I was leaving here I got a telegram + from London asking for the speech for a New York paper. I (this is + strictly private) sent it. And then I didn't make that speech, but another + of a quite different character—a speech born of something which the + introducer said. If that said speech got cabled and printed, you needn't + let on that it was never uttered. + </p> + <p> + That was a darling night, and those Hungarians were lively people. We were + there a week and had a great time. At the banquet I heard their chief + orator make a most graceful and easy and beautiful and delicious speech—I + never heard one that enchanted me more—although I did not understand + a word of it, since it was in Hungarian. But the art of it!—it was + superlative. + </p> + <p> + They are wonderful English scholars, these people; my lecture audience—all + Hungarians—understood me perfectly—to judge by the effects. + The English clergyman told me that in his congregation are 150 young + English women who earn their living teaching their language; and that + there are others besides these. + </p> + <p> + For 60 cents a week the telephone reads the morning news to you at home; + gives you the stocks and markets at noon; gives you lessons in 3 foreign + languages during 3 hours; gives you the afternoon telegrams; and at night + the concerts and operas. Of course even the clerks and seamstresses and + bootblacks and everybody else are subscribers. + </p> + <p> + (Correction. Mrs. Clemens says it is 60 cents a month.) + </p> + <p> + I am renewing my youth. I made 4 speeches at one banquet here last + Saturday night. And I've been to a lot of football matches. + </p> + <p> + Jean has been in here examining the poll for the Immortals (“Literature,” + March 24,) in the hope, I think, that at last she should find me at the + top and you in second place; and if that is her ambition she has suffered + disappointment for the third time—and will never fare any better, I + hope, for you are where you belong, by every right. She wanted to know who + it is that does the voting, but I was not able to tell her. Nor when the + election will be completed and decided. + </p> + <p> + Next Morning. I have been reading the morning paper. I do it every morning—well + knowing that I shall find in it the usual depravities and basenesses and + hypocrisies and cruelties that make up civilization, and cause me to put + in the rest of the day pleading for the damnation of the human race. I + cannot seem to get my prayers answered, yet I do not despair. + </p> + <p> + (Escaped from) 5 o'clock tea ('sh!) Oh, the American girl in Europe! Often + she is creditable, but sometimes she is just shocking. This one, a minute + ago—19, fat-face, raspy voice, pert ways, the self-complacency of + God; and with it all a silly laugh (embarrassed) which kept breaking out + through her chatter all along, whereas there was no call for it, for she + said nothing that was funny. “Spose so many 've told y' how they 'njoyed + y'r chapt'r on the Germ' tongue it's bringin' coals to Newcastle Kehe! say + anything 'bout it Ke-hehe! Spent m' vacation 'n Russia, 'n saw Tolstoi; he + said—” It made me shudder. + </p> + <p> + April 12. Jean has been in here with a copy of Literature, complaining + that I am again behind you in the election of the 10 consecrated members; + and seems troubled about it and not quite able to understand it. But I + have explained to her that you are right there on the ground, inside the + pool-booth, keeping game—and that that makes a large difference in + these things. + </p> + <p> + 13th. I have been to the Knustausstellung with Mrs. Clemens. The office of + art seems to be to grovel in the dirt before Emperors and this and that + and the other damned breed of priests. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yrs ever + MARK. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Howells and Clemens were corresponding regularly again, though not + with the frequency of former years. Perhaps neither of them was + bubbling over with things to say; perhaps it was becoming yearly + less attractive to pick up a pen and write, and then, of course, + there was always the discouragement of distance. Once Howells + wrote: “I know this will find you in Austria before I can well turn + round, but I must make believe you are in Kennebunkport before I can + begin it.” And in another letter: “It ought to be as pleasant to + sit down and write to you as to sit down and talk to you, but it + isn't..... The only reason why I write is that I want another + letter from you, and because I have a whole afternoon for the job. + I have the whole of every afternoon, for I cannot work later than + lunch. I am fagged by that time, and Sunday is the only day that + brings unbearable leisure. I hope you will be in New York another + winter; then I shall know what to do with these foretastes of + eternity.” + + Clemens usually wrote at considerable length, for he had a good deal + to report of his life in the Austrian capital, now drawing to a + close. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To W. D. Howells, in New York: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + May 12, 1899. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR HOWELLS,—7.15 p. m. Tea (for Mr. and Mrs. Tower, who are + leaving for Russia) just over; nice people and rather creditable to the + human race: Mr. and Mrs. Tower; the new Minister and his wife; the + Secretary of Legation; the Naval (and Military) Attach; several English + ladies; an Irish lady; a Scotch lady; a particularly nice young Austrian + baron who wasn't invited but came and went supposing it was the usual + thing and wondered at the unusually large gathering; two other Austrians + and several Americans who were also in his fix; the old Baronin Langeman, + the only Austrian invited; the rest were Americans. It made just a + comfortable crowd in our parlor, with an overflow into Clara's through the + folding doors. I don't enjoy teas, and am daily spared them by Mrs. + Clemens, but this was a pleasant one. I had only one accident. The old + Baronin Langeman is a person I have a strong fondness for, for we + violently disagree on some subjects and as violently agree on others—for + instance, she is temperance and I am not: she has religious beliefs and + feelings and I have none; (she's a Methodist!) she is a democrat and so am + I; she is woman's rights and so am I; she is laborers' rights and approves + trades unions and strikes, and that is me. And so on. After she was gone + an English lady whom I greatly like, began to talk sharply against her for + contributing money, time, labor, and public expression of favor to a + strike that is on (for an 11-hour day) in the silk factories of Bohemia—and + she caught me unprepared and betrayed me into over-warm argument. I am + sorry: for she didn't know anything about the subject, and I did; and one + should be gentle with the ignorant, for they are the chosen of God. + </p> + <p> + (The new Minister is a good man, but out of place. The Sec. of Legation is + a good man, but out of place. The Attache is a good man, but out of place. + Our government for displacement beats the new White Star ship; and her + possible is 17,200 tons.) + </p> + <p> + May 13, 4 p. m. A beautiful English girl and her handsome English husband + came up and spent the evening, and she certainly is a bird. English + parents—she was born and reared in Roumania and couldn't talk + English till she was 8 or 10. She came up clothed like the sunset, and was + a delight to look at. (Roumanian costume.)..... + </p> + <p> + Twenty-four young people have gone out to the Semmering to-day (and + to-morrow) and Mrs. Clemens and an English lady and old Leschetitzky and + his wife have gone to chaperon them. They gave me a chance to go, but + there are no snow mountains that I want to look at. Three hours out, three + hours back, and sit up all night watching the young people dance; yelling + conversationally and being yelled at, conversationally, by new + acquaintances, through the deafening music, about how I like Vienna, and + if it's my first visit, and how long we expect to stay, and did I see the + foot-washing, and am I writing a book about Vienna, and so on. The terms + seemed too severe. Snow mountains are too dear at the price.... + </p> + <p> + For several years I have been intending to stop writing for print as soon + as I could afford it. At last I can afford it, and have put the pot-boiler + pen away. What I have been wanting is a chance to write a book without + reserves—a book which should take account of no one's feelings, and + no one's prejudices, opinions, beliefs, hopes, illusions, delusions; a + book which should say my say, right out of my heart, in the plainest + language and without a limitation of any sort. I judged that that would be + an unimaginable luxury, heaven on earth. + </p> + <p> + It is under way, now, and it is a luxury! an intellectual drunk: Twice I + didn't start it right; and got pretty far in, both times, before I found + it out. But I am sure it is started right this time. It is in tale-form. I + believe I can make it tell what I think of Man, and how he is constructed, + and what a shabby poor ridiculous thing he is, and how mistaken he is in + his estimate of his character and powers and qualities and his place among + the animals. + </p> + <p> + So far, I think I am succeeding. I let the madam into the secret day + before yesterday, and locked the doors and read to her the opening + chapters. She said— + </p> + <p> + “It is perfectly horrible—and perfectly beautiful!” + </p> + <p> + “Within the due limits of modesty, that is what I think.” + </p> + <p> + I hope it will take me a year or two to write it, and that it will turn + out to be the right vessel to contain all the abuse I am planning to dump + into it. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yours ever + MARK. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The story mentioned in the foregoing, in which Mark Twain was to + give his opinion of man, was The Mysterious Stranger. It was not + finished at the time, and its closing chapter was not found until + after his death. Six years later (1916) it was published serially + in Harper's Magazine, and in book form. + + The end of May found the Clemens party in London, where they were + received and entertained with all the hospitality they had known in + earlier years. Clemens was too busy for letter-writing, but in the + midst of things he took time to report to Howells an amusing + incident of one of their entertainments. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To W. D. Howells, in America: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + LONDON, July 3, '99 +</pre> + <p> + DEAR HOWELLS,—..... I've a lot of things to write you, but it's no + use—I can't get time for anything these days. I must break off and + write a postscript to Canon Wilberforce before I go to bed. This afternoon + he left a luncheon-party half an hour ahead of the rest, and carried off + my hat (which has Mark Twain in a big hand written in it.) When the rest + of us came out there was but one hat that would go on my head—it + fitted exactly, too. So wore it away. It had no name in it, but the Canon + was the only man who was absent. I wrote him a note at 8 p.m.; saying that + for four hours I had not been able to take anything that did not belong to + me, nor stretch a fact beyond the frontiers of truth, and my family were + getting alarmed. Could he explain my trouble? And now at 8.30 p.m. comes a + note from him to say that all the afternoon he has been exhibiting a + wonder-compelling mental vivacity and grace of expression, etc., etc., and + have I missed a hat? Our letters have crossed. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yours ever + MARK. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + News came of the death of Robert Ingersoll. Clemens had been always + one of his most ardent admirers, and a warm personal friend. To + Ingersoll's niece he sent a word of heartfelt sympathy. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Miss Eva Farrell, in New York: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 30 WELLINGTON COURT, ALBERT GATE. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MISS FARRELL,—Except my daughter's, I have not grieved for any + death as I have grieved for his. His was a great and beautiful spirit, he + was a man—all man from his crown to his foot soles. My reverence for + him was deep and genuine; I prized his affection for me and returned it + with usury. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sincerely Yours, + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Clemens and family decided to spend the summer in Sweden, at Sauna, + in order to avail themselves of osteopathic treatment as practised + by Heinrick Kellgren. Kellgren's method, known as the “Swedish + movements,” seemed to Mark Twain a wonderful cure for all ailments, + and he heralded the discovery far and wide. He wrote to friends far + and near advising them to try Kellgren for anything they might + happen to have. Whatever its beginning, any letter was likely to + close with some mention of the new panacea. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Rev. J. H. Twichell, traveling in Europe: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SANNA, Sept. 6, '99. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR JOE,—I've no business in here—I ought to be outside. I + shall never see another sunset to begin with it this side of heaven. + Venice? land, what a poor interest that is! This is the place to be. I + have seen about 60 sunsets here; and a good 40 of them were clear and away + beyond anything I had ever imagined before for dainty and exquisite and + marvellous beauty and infinite change and variety. America? Italy? The + tropics? They have no notion of what a sunset ought to be. And this one—this + unspeakable wonder! It discounts all the rest. It brings the tears, it is + so unutterably beautiful. + </p> + <p> + If I had time, I would say a word about this curative system here. The + people actually do several of the great things the Christian Scientists + pretend to do. You wish to advise with a physician about it? Certainly. + There is no objection. He knows next to something about his own trade, but + that will not embarrass him in framing a verdict about this one. I respect + your superstitions—we all have them. It would be quite natural for + the cautious Chinaman to ask his native priest to instruct him as to the + value of the new religious specialty which the Western missionary is + trying to put on the market, before investing in it. (He would get a + verdict.) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Love to you all! + Always Yours + MARK. + + Howells wrote that he was going on a reading-tour-dreading it, of + course-and asking for any advice that Clemens felt qualified to + give. Naturally, Clemens gave him the latest he had in stock, + without realizing, perhaps, that he was recommending an individual + practice which few would be likely to imitate. Nevertheless, what + he says is interesting. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To W. D. Howells, in America: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SANNA, SWEDEN, Sept. 26, '99. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR HOWELLS,—Get your lecture by heart—it will pay you. I + learned a trick in Vienna—by accident—which I wish I had + learned years ago. I meant to read from a Tauchnitz, because I knew I + hadn't well memorized the pieces; and I came on with the book and read a + few sentences, then remembered that the sketch needed a few words of + explanatory introduction; and so, lowering the book and now and then + unconsciously using it to gesture with, I talked the introduction, and it + happened to carry me into the sketch itself, and then I went on, + pretending that I was merely talking extraneous matter and would come to + the sketch presently. It was a beautiful success. I knew the substance of + the sketch and the telling phrases of it; and so, the throwing of the rest + of it into informal talk as I went along limbered it up and gave it the + snap and go and freshness of an impromptu. I was to read several pieces, + and I played the same game with all of them, and always the audience + thought I was being reminded of outside things and throwing them in, and + was going to hold up the book and begin on the sketch presently—and + so I always got through the sketch before they were entirely sure that it + had begun. I did the same thing in Budapest and had the same good time + over again. It's a new dodge, and the best one that was ever invented. Try + it. You'll never lose your audience—not even for a moment. Their + attention is fixed, and never wavers. And that is not the case where one + reads from book or MS., or where he stands up without a note and frankly + exposes the fact, by his confident manner and smooth phrasing, that he is + not improvising, but reciting from memory. And in the heat of telling a + thing that is memorised in substance only, one flashes out the happiest + suddenly-begotten phrases every now and then! Try it. Such a phrase has a + life and sparkle about it that twice as good a one could not exhibit if + prepared beforehand, and it “fetches” an audience in such an enthusing and + inspiring and uplifting way that that lucky phrase breeds another one, + sure. + </p> + <p> + Your September instalment—[“Their Silver Wedding journey.”]—was + delicious—every word of it. You haven't lost any of your splendid + art. Callers have arrived. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + With love + MARK. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Yes,” wrote Howells, “if I were a great histrionic artist like you + I would get my poor essays by heart, and recite them, but being what + I am I should do the thing so lifelessly that I had better recognise + their deadness frankly and read them.” + + From Vienna Clemens had contributed to the Cosmopolitan, then owned + by John Brisben Walker, his first article on Christian Science. It + was a delicious bit of humor and found such enthusiastic + appreciation that Walker was moved to send an additional $200 check + in payment for it. This brought prompt acknowledgment. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To John Brisben Walker, in Irvington, N. Y.: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + LONDON, Oct. 19, '99 +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. WALKER,—By gracious but you have a talent for making a man + feel proud and good! To say a compliment well is a high art—and few + possess it. You know how to do it, and when you confirm its sincerity with + a handsome cheque the limit is reached and compliment can no higher go. I + like to work for you: when you don't approve an article you say so, + recognizing that I am not a child and can stand it; and when you approve + an article I don't have to dicker with you as if I raised peanuts and you + kept a stand; I know I shall get every penny the article is worth. + </p> + <p> + You have given me very great pleasure, and I thank you for it. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sincerely Yours + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + On the same day he sent word to Howells of the good luck which now + seemed to be coming his way. The Joan of Arc introduction was the + same that today appears in his collected works under the title of + Saint Joan of Arc. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To W. D. Howells, in New York: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + LONDON, Oct. 19, '99. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR HOWELLS,—My, it's a lucky day!—of the sort when it never + rains but it pours. I was to write an introduction to a nobler book—the + English translation of the Official Record (unabridged) of the Trials and + Rehabilitation of Joan of Arc, and make a lot of footnotes. I wrote the + introduction in Sweden, and here a few days ago I tore loose from a tale I + am writing, and took the MS book and went at the grind of note-making—a + fearful job for a man not used to it. This morning brought a note from my + excellent friend Murray, a rich Englishman who edits the translation, + saying, “Never mind the notes—we'll make the translators do them.” + That was comfort and joy. + </p> + <p> + The same mail brought a note from Canon Wilberforce, asking me to talk + Joan of Arc in his drawing-room to the Dukes and Earls and M. P.'s—(which + would fetch me out of my seclusion and into print, and I couldn't have + that,) and so of course I must run down to the Abbey and explain—and + lose an hour. Just then came Murray and said “Leave that to me—I'll + go and do the explaining and put the thing off 3 months; you write a note + and tell him I am coming.” + </p> + <p> + (Which I did, later.) Wilberforce carried off my hat from a lunch party + last summer, and in to-day's note he said he wouldn't steal my new hat + this time. In my note I said I couldn't make the drawing-room talk, now—Murray + would explain; and added a P. S.: “You mustn't think it is because I am + afraid to trust my hat in your reach again, for I assure you upon honor it + isn't. I should bring my old one.” + </p> + <p> + I had suggested to Murray a fortnight ago, that he get some big guns to + write introductory monographs for the book. + </p> + <p> + Miss X, Joan's Voices and Prophecies. + </p> + <p> + The Lord Chief Justice of England, the legal prodigies which she performed + before her judges. + </p> + <p> + Lord Roberts, her military genius. + </p> + <p> + Kipling, her patriotism. + </p> + <p> + And so on. When he came this morning he said he had captured Miss X; that + Lord Roberts and Kipling were going to take hold and see if they could do + monographs worthy of the book. He hadn't run the others to cover yet, but + was on their track. Very good news. It is a grand book, and is entitled to + the best efforts of the best people. As for me, I took pains with my + Introduction, and I admit that it is no slouch of a performance. + </p> + <p> + Then I came down to Chatto's, and found your all too beautiful letter, and + was lifted higher than ever. Next came letters from America properly + glorifying my Christian Science article in the Cosmopolitan (and one + roundly abusing it,) and a letter from John Brisben Walker enclosing $200 + additional pay for the article (he had already paid enough, but I didn't + mention that—which wasn't right of me, for this is the second time + he has done such a thing, whereas Gilder has done it only once and no one + else ever.) I make no prices with Walker and Gilder—I can trust + them. + </p> + <p> + And last of all came a letter from M-. How I do wish that man was in hell. + Even-the briefest line from that idiot puts me in a rage. + </p> + <p> + But on the whole it has been a delightful day, and with M——in + hell it would have been perfect. But that will happen, and I can wait. + </p> + <p> + Ah, if I could look into the inside of people as you do, and put it on + paper, and invent things for them to do and say, and tell how they said + it, I could writs a fine and readable book now, for I've got a prime + subject. I've written 30,000 words of it and satisfied myself that the + stuff is there; so I am going to discard that MS and begin all over again + and have a good time with it. + </p> + <p> + Oh, I know how you feel! I've been in hell myself. You are there tonight. + By difference in time you are at luncheon, now—and not eating it. + Nothing is so lonesome as gadding around platforming. I have declined 45 + lectures to-day-England and Scotland. I wanted the money, but not the + torture: Good luck to you!—and repentance. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + With love to all of you + MARK. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXIX. LETTERS OF 1900, MAINLY TO TWICHELL. THE BOER WAR. BOXER TROUBLES. + THE RETURN TO AMERICA. + </h2> + <p> + The New Year found Clemens still in London, chiefly interested in + osteopathy and characteristically glorifying the practice at the expense + of other healing methods. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Rev. J. H. Twichell, in Hartford: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + LONDON, Jan. 8, 1900. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR JOE,—Mental Telepathy has scored another. Mental Telegraphy + will be greatly respected a century hence. + </p> + <p> + By the accident of writing my sister and describing to her the remarkable + cures made by Kellgren with his hands and without drugs, I brought upon + myself a quite stunning surprise; for she wrote to me that she had been + taking this very treatment in Buffalo—and that it was an American + invention. + </p> + <p> + Well, it does really turn out that Dr. Still, in the middle of Kansas, in + a village, began to experiment in 1874, only five years after Kellgren + began the same work obscurely in the village of Gotha, in Germany. Dr. + Still seems to be an honest man; therefore I am persuaded that Kellgren + moved him to his experiments by Mental Telegraphy across six hours of + longitude, without need of a wire. By the time Still began to experiment, + Kellgren had completed his development of the principles of his system and + established himself in a good practice in London—1874—and was + in good shape to convey his discovery to Kansas, Mental Telegraphically. + </p> + <p> + Yes, I was greatly surprised to find that my mare's nest was much in + arrears: that this new science was well known in America under the name of + Osteopathy. Since then, I find that in the past 3 years it has got itself + legalized in 14 States in spite of the opposition of the physicians; that + it has established 20 Osteopathic schools and colleges; that among its + students are 75 allopathic physicians; that there is a school in Boston + and another in Philadelphia, that there are about 100 students in the + parent college (Dr. Still's at Kirksville, Missouri,) and that there are + about 2,000 graduates practicing in America. Dear me, there are not 30 in + Europe. Europe is so sunk in superstitions and prejudices that it is an + almost impossible thing to get her to do anything but scoff at a new thing—unless + it come from abroad; as witness the telegraph, dentistry, &c. + </p> + <p> + Presently the Osteopath will come over here from America and will soon + make himself a power that must be recognized and reckoned with; and then, + 25 years from now, England will begin to claim the invention and tell all + about its origin, in the Cyclopedia B——-as in the case of the + telegraph, applied anaesthetics and the other benefactions which she + heaped her abuse upon when her inventors first offered them to her. + </p> + <p> + I cannot help feeling rather inordinately proud of America for the gay and + hearty way in which she takes hold of any new thing that comes along and + gives it a first rate trial. Many an ass in America, is getting a deal of + benefit out of X-Science's new exploitation of an age-old healing + principle—faith, combined with the patient's imagination—let + it boom along! I have no objection. Let them call it by what name they + choose, so long as it does helpful work among the class which is + numerically vastly the largest bulk of the human race, i.e. the fools, the + idiots, the pudd'nheads. + </p> + <p> + We do not guess, we know that 9 in 10 of the species are pudd'nheads. We + know it by various evidences; and one of them is, that for ages the race + has respected (and almost venerated) the physician's grotesque system—the + emptying of miscellaneous and harmful drugs into a person's stomach to + remove ailments which in many cases the drugs could not reach at all; in + many cases could reach and help, but only at cost of damage to some other + part of the man; and in the remainder of the cases the drug either + retarded the cure, or the disease was cured by nature in spite of the + nostrums. The doctor's insane system has not only been permitted to + continue its follies for ages, but has been protected by the State and + made a close monopoly—an infamous thing, a crime against a + free-man's proper right to choose his own assassin or his own method of + defending his body against disease and death. + </p> + <p> + And yet at the same time, with curious and senile inconsistency, the State + has allowed the man to choose his own assassin—in one detail—the + patent-medicine detail—making itself the protector of that perilous + business, collecting money out of it, and appointing no committee of + experts to examine the medicines and forbid them when extra dangerous. + Really, when a man can prove that he is not a jackass, I think he is in + the way to prove that he is no legitimate member of the race. + </p> + <p> + I have by me a list of 52 human ailments—common ones—and in + this list I count 19 which the physician's art cannot cure. But there + isn't one which Osteopathy or Kellgren cannot cure, if the patient comes + early. + </p> + <p> + Fifteen years ago I had a deep reverence for the physician and the + surgeon. But 6 months of closely watching the Kellgren business has + revolutionized all that, and now I have neither reverence nor respect for + the physician's trade, and scarcely any for the surgeon's,—I am + convinced that of all quackeries, the physician's is the grotesquest and + the silliest. And they know they are shams and humbugs. They have taken + the place of those augurs who couldn't look each other in the face without + laughing. + </p> + <p> + See what a powerful hold our ancient superstitions have upon us: two weeks + ago, when Livy committed an incredible imprudence and by consequence was + promptly stricken down with a heavy triple attack—influenza, + bronchitis, and a lung affected—she recognized the gravity of the + situation, and her old superstitions rose: she thought she ought to send + for a doctor—Think of it—the last man in the world I should + want around at such a time. Of course I did not say no—not that I + was indisposed to take the responsibility, for I was not, my notion of a + dangerous responsibility being quite the other way—but because it is + unsafe to distress a sick person; I only said we knew no good doctor, and + it could not be good policy to choose at hazard; so she allowed me to send + for Kellgren. To-day she is up and around—cured. It is safe to say + that persons hit in the same way at the same time are in bed yet, and + booked to stay there a good while, and to be in a shackly condition and + afraid of their shadows for a couple of years or more to come. + </p> + <p> + It will be seen by the foregoing that Mark Twain's interest in the + Kellgren system was still an ardent one. Indeed, for a time he gave most + of his thought to it, and wrote several long appreciations, perhaps with + little idea of publication, but merely to get his enthusiasm physically + expressed. War, however, presently supplanted medicine—the Boer + troubles in South Africa and the Boxer insurrection in China. It was a + disturbing, exciting year. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To W. D. Howells, in Boston: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + WELLINGTON COURT, KNIGHTSBRIDGE, + Jan. 25, 1900. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR HOWELLS,—If you got half as much as Pond prophesied, be content + and praise God—it has not happened to another. But I am sorry he + didn't go with you; for it is marvelous to hear him yarn. He is good + company, cheery and hearty, and his mill is never idle. Your doing a + lecture tour was heroic. It was the highest order of grit, and you have a + right to be proud of yourself. No mount of applause or money or both could + save it from being a hell to a man constituted as you are. It is that even + to me, who am made of coarser stuff. + </p> + <p> + I knew the audiences would come forward and shake hands with you—that + one infallible sign of sincere approval. In all my life, wherever it + failed me I left the hall sick and ashamed, knowing what it meant. + </p> + <p> + Privately speaking, this is a sordid and criminal war, and in every way + shameful and excuseless. Every day I write (in my head) bitter magazine + articles about it, but I have to stop with that. For England must not + fall; it would mean an inundation of Russian and German political + degradations which would envelop the globe and steep it in a sort of + Middle-Age night and slavery which would last till Christ comes again. + Even wrong—and she is wrong—England must be upheld. He is an + enemy of the human race who shall speak against her now. Why was the human + race created? Or at least why wasn't something creditable created in place + of it. God had his opportunity. He could have made a reputation. But no, + He must commit this grotesque folly—a lark which must have cost him + a regret or two when He came to think it over and observe effects. For a + giddy and unbecoming caprice there has been nothing like it till this war. + I talk the war with both sides—always waiting until the other man + introduces the topic. Then I say “My head is with the Briton, but my heart + and such rags of morals as I have are with the Boer—now we will + talk, unembarrassed and without prejudice.” And so we discuss, and have no + trouble. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Jan. 26. +</pre> + <p> + It was my intention to make some disparaging remarks about the human race; + and so I kept this letter open for that purpose, and for the purpose of + telling my dream, wherein the Trinity were trying to guess a conundrum, + but I can do better—for I can snip out of the “Times” various + samples and side-lights which bring the race down to date, and expose it + as of yesterday. If you will notice, there is seldom a telegram in a paper + which fails to show up one or more members and beneficiaries of our + Civilization as promenading in his shirt-tail, with the rest of his + regalia in the wash. + </p> + <p> + I love to see the holy ones air their smug pieties and admire them and + smirk over them, and at the same moment frankly and publicly show their + contempt for the pieties of the Boer—confidently expecting the + approval of the country and the pulpit, and getting it. + </p> + <p> + I notice that God is on both sides in this war; thus history repeats + itself. But I am the only person who has noticed this; everybody here + thinks He is playing the game for this side, and for this side only. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + With great love to you all + MARK. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + One cannot help wondering what Mark Twain would have thought of + human nature had he lived to see the great World War, fought mainly + by the Christian nations who for nearly two thousand years had been + preaching peace on earth and goodwill toward men. But his opinion + of the race could hardly have been worse than it was. And nothing + that human beings could do would have surprised him. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Rev. J. H. Twichell, in Hartford: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + LONDON, Jan. 27, 1900. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR JOE,—Apparently we are not proposing to set the Filipinos free + and give their islands to them; and apparently we are not proposing to + hang the priests and confiscate their property. If these things are so, + the war out there has no interest for me. + </p> + <p> + I have just been examining chapter LXX of “Following the Equator,” to see + if the Boer's old military effectiveness is holding out. It reads + curiously as if it had been written about the present war. + </p> + <p> + I believe that in the next chapter my notion of the Boer was rightly + conceived. He is popularly called uncivilized, I do not know why. + Happiness, food, shelter, clothing, wholesale labor, modest and rational + ambitions, honesty, kindliness, hospitality, love of freedom and limitless + courage to fight for it, composure and fortitude in time of disaster, + patience in time of hardship and privation, absence of noise and brag in + time of victory, contentment with a humble and peaceful life void of + insane excitements—if there is a higher and better form of + civilization than this, I am not aware of it and do not know where to look + for it. I suppose we have the habit of imagining that a lot of artistic, + intellectual and other artificialities must be added, or it isn't + complete. We and the English have these latter; but as we lack the great + bulk of these others, I think the Boer civilization is the best of the + two. My idea of our civilization is that it is a shabby poor thing and + full of cruelties, vanities, arrogancies, meannesses, and hypocrisies. As + for the word, I hate the sound of it, for it conveys a lie; and as for the + thing itself, I wish it was in hell, where it belongs. + </p> + <p> + Provided we could get something better in the place of it. But that is not + possible, perhaps. Poor as it is, it is better than real savagery, + therefore we must stand by it, extend it, and (in public) praise it. And + so we must not utter any hateful word about England in these days, nor + fail to hope that she will win in this war, for her defeat and fall would + be an irremediable disaster for the mangy human race.... Naturally, then, + I am for England; but she is profoundly in the wrong, Joe, and no + (instructed) Englishman doubts it. At least that is my belief. + </p> + <p> + Maybe I managed to make myself misunderstood, as to the Osteopathists. I + wanted to know how the men impress you. As to their Art, I know fairly + well about that, and should not value Hartford's opinion of it; nor a + physician's; nor that of another who proposed to enlighten me out of his + ignorance. Opinions based upon theory, superstition and ignorance are not + very precious. + </p> + <p> + Livy and the others are off for the country for a day or two. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Love to you all + MARK. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The next letter affords a pleasant variation. Without doubt it was + written on realizing that good nature and enthusiasm had led him + into indiscretion. This was always happening to him, and letters + like this are not infrequent, though generally less entertaining. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Mr. Ann, in London: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + WELLINGTON COURT, Feb. 23, '00. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. ANN,—Upon sober second thought, it won't do!—I + withdraw that letter. Not because I said anything in it which is not true, + for I didn't; but because when I allow my name to be used in forwarding a + stock-scheme I am assuming a certain degree of responsibility as toward + the investor, and I am not willing to do that. I have another objection, a + purely selfish one: trading upon my name, whether the enterprise scored a + success or a failure would damage me. I can't afford that; even the + Archbishop of Canterbury couldn't afford it, and he has more character to + spare than I have. (Ah, a happy thought! If he would sign the letter with + me that would change the whole complexion of the thing, of course. I do + not know him, yet I would sign any commercial scheme that he would sign. + As he does not know me, it follows that he would sign anything that I + would sign. This is unassailable logic—but really that is all that + can be said for it.) + </p> + <p> + No, I withdraw the letter. This virgin is pure up to date, and is going to + remain so. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ys sincerely, + S. L. C. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Rev. J. H. Twichell, in Hartford: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + WELLINGTON COURT, + KNIGHTSBRIDGE, Mch. 4, '00. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR JOE,—Henry Robinson's death is a sharp wound to me, and it goes + very deep. I had a strong affection for him, and I think he had for me. + Every Friday, three-fourths of the year for 16 years he was of the + billiard-party in our house. When we come home, how shall we have + billiard-nights again—with no Ned Bunce and no Henry Robinson? I + believe I could not endure that. We must find another use for that room. + Susy is gone, George is gone, Libby Hamersley, Ned Bunce, Henry Robinson. + The friends are passing, one by one; our house, where such warm blood and + such dear blood flowed so freely, is become a cemetery. But not in any + repellent sense. Our dead are welcome there; their life made it beautiful, + their death has hallowed it, we shall have them with us always, and there + will be no parting. + </p> + <p> + It was a moving address you made over Ward Cheney—that fortunate, + youth! Like Susy, he got out of life all that was worth the living, and + got his great reward before he had crossed the tropic frontier of dreams + and entered the Sahara of fact. The deep consciousness of Susy's good + fortune is a constant comfort to me. + </p> + <p> + London is happy-hearted at last. The British victories have swept the + clouds away and there are no uncheerful faces. For three months the + private dinner parties (we go to no public ones) have been Lodges of + Sorrow, and just a little depressing sometimes; but now they are smiley + and animated again. Joe, do you know the Irish gentleman and the Irish + lady, the Scotch gentleman and the Scotch lady? These are darlings, every + one. Night before last it was all Irish—24. One would have to travel + far to match their ease and sociability and animation and sparkle and + absence of shyness and self-consciousness. + </p> + <p> + It was American in these fine qualities. This was at Mr. Lecky's. He is + Irish, you know. Last night it was Irish again, at Lady Gregory's. Lord + Roberts is Irish; and Sir William Butler; and Kitchener, I think; and a + disproportion of the other prominent Generals are of Irish and Scotch + breed-keeping up the traditions of Wellington, and Sir Colin Campbell of + the Mutiny. You will have noticed that in S. A. as in the Mutiny, it is + usually the Irish and the Scotch that are placed in the fore-front of the + battle. An Irish friend of mine says this is because the Kelts are + idealists, and enthusiasts, with age-old heroisms to emulate and keep + bright before the world; but that the low-class Englishman is dull and + without ideals, fighting bull-doggishly while he has a leader, but losing + his head and going to pieces when his leader falls—not so with the + Kelt. Sir Wm. Butler said “the Kelt is the spear-head of the British + lance.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Love to you all. + MARK. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The Henry Robinson mentioned in the foregoing letter was Henry C. + Robinson, one-time Governor of Connecticut, long a dear and intimate + friend of the Clemens household. “Lecky” was W. E. H. Lecky, the + Irish historian whose History of European Morals had been, for many + years, one of Mark Twain's favorite books: + + In July the Clemenses left the small apartment at 30 Wellington + Court and established a summer household a little way out of London, + at Dollis Hill. To-day the place has been given to the public under + the name of Gladstone Park, so called for the reason that in an + earlier time Gladstone had frequently visited there. It was a + beautiful spot, a place of green grass and spreading oaks. In a + letter in which Mrs. Clemens wrote to her sister she said: “It is + simply divinely beautiful and peaceful; the great, old trees are + beyond everything. I believe nowhere in the world do you find such + trees as in England.” Clemens wrote to Twichell: “From the house + you can see little but spacious stretches of hay-fields and green + turf..... Yet the massed, brick blocks of London are reachable in + three minutes on a horse. By rail we can be in the heart of London, + in Baker Street, in seventeen minutes—by a smart train in five.” + + Mail, however, would seem to have been less prompt. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To the Editor of the Times, in London: + </p> + <p> + SIR,—It has often been claimed that the London postal service was + swifter than that of New York, and I have always believed that the claim + was justified. But a doubt has lately sprung up in my mind. I live eight + miles from Printing House Square; the Times leaves that point at 4 o'clock + in the morning, by mail, and reaches me at 5 in the afternoon, thus making + the trip in thirteen hours. + </p> + <p> + It is my conviction that in New York we should do it in eleven. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + C. +</pre> + <p> + DOLLIS HILL, N. W. <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Rev. J. H. Twichell, in Hartford: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DOLLIS HILL HOUSE, KILBURN, N. W. + LONDON, Aug. 12, '00. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR JOE,—The Sages Prof. Fiske and Brander Matthews were out here + to tea a week ago and it was a breath of American air to see them. We + furnished them a bright day and comfortable weather—and they used it + all up, in their extravagant American way. Since then we have sat by coal + fires, evenings. + </p> + <p> + We shall sail for home sometime in October, but shall winter in New York + where we can have an osteopath of good repute to continue the work of + putting this family in proper condition. + </p> + <p> + Livy and I dined with the Chief Justice a month ago and he was as + well-conditioned as an athlete. + </p> + <p> + It is all China, now, and my sympathies are with the Chinese. They have + been villainously dealt with by the sceptred thieves of Europe, and I hope + they will drive all the foreigners out and keep them out for good. I only + wish it; of course I don't really expect it. + </p> + <p> + Why, hang it, it occurs to me that by the time we reach New York you + Twichells will be invading Europe and once more we shall miss the + connection. This is thoroughly exasperating. Aren't we ever going to meet + again? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + With no end of love from all of us, + MARK. +</pre> + <p> + P. S. Aug. 18. + </p> + <p> + DEAR JOE,—It is 7.30 a. m. I have been waking very early, lately. If + it occurs once more, it will be habit; then I will submit and adopt it. + </p> + <p> + This is our day of mourning. It is four years since Susy died; it is five + years and a month that I saw her alive for the last time-throwing kisses + at us from the railway platform when we started West around the world. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes it is a century; sometimes it was yesterday. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + With love + MARK. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We discover in the foregoing letter that the long European residence + was drawing to an end. More than nine years had passed since the + closing of the Hartford house—eventful years that had seen failure, + bereavement, battle with debt, and rehabilitated fortunes. All the + family were anxious to get home—Mark Twain most anxious of all. + + They closed Dollis Hill House near the end of September, and put up + for a brief period at a family hotel, an amusing picture of which + follows. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To J. Y. M. MacAlister, in London: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sep. 1900. +</pre> + <p> + MY DEAR MACALISTER,—We do really start next Saturday. I meant to + sail earlier, but waited to finish some studies of what are called Family + Hotels. They are a London specialty, God has not permitted them to exist + elsewhere; they are ramshackle clubs which were dwellings at the time of + the Heptarchy. Dover and Albemarle Streets are filled with them. The once + spacious rooms are split up into coops which afford as much discomfort as + can be had anywhere out of jail for any money. All the modern + inconveniences are furnished, and some that have been obsolete for a + century. The prices are astonishingly high for what you get. The bedrooms + are hospitals for incurable furniture. I find it so in this one. They + exist upon a tradition; they represent the vanishing home-like inn of + fifty years ago, and are mistaken by foreigners for it. Some quite + respectable Englishmen still frequent them through inherited habit and + arrested development; many Americans also, through ignorance and + superstition. The rooms are as interesting as the Tower of London, but + older I think. Older and dearer. The lift was a gift of William the + Conqueror, some of the beds are prehistoric. They represent geological + periods. Mine is the oldest. It is formed in strata of Old Red Sandstone, + volcanic tufa, ignis fatuus, and bicarbonate of hornblende, superimposed + upon argillaceous shale, and contains the prints of prehistoric man. It is + in No. 149. Thousands of scientists come to see it. They consider it holy. + They want to blast out the prints but cannot. Dynamite rebounds from it. + </p> + <p> + Finished studies and sail Saturday in Minnehaha. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yours ever affectionately, + MARK TWAIN. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + They sailed for New York October 6th, and something more than a week + later America gave them a royal welcome. The press, far and wide, + sounded Mark Twain's praises once more; dinners and receptions were + offered on every hand; editors and lecture agents clamored for him. + + The family settled in the Earlington Hotel during a period of + house-hunting. They hoped eventually to return to Hartford, but + after a brief visit paid by Clemens alone to the old place he wrote: +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To Sylvester Baxter, in Boston: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + NEW YORK, Oct. 26, 1900. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. BAXTER,—It was a great pleasure to me to renew the other + days with you, and there was a pathetic pleasure in seeing Hartford and + the house again; but I realize that if we ever enter the house again to + live, our hearts will break. I am not sure that we shall ever be strong + enough to endure that strain. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sincerely yours, + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mr. and Mrs. Rogers wished to have them in their neighborhood, but + the houses there were not suitable, or were too expensive. Through + Mr. Frank Doubleday they eventually found, at 14 West Tenth Street, + a large residence handsomely furnished, and this they engaged for + the winter. “We were lucky to get this big house furnished,” he + wrote MacAlister in London. “There was not another one in town + procurable that would answer us, but this one is all right—space + enough in it for several families, the rooms all old-fashioned, + great size.” + + The little note that follows shows that Mark Twain had not entirely + forgotten the days of Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + To a Neighbor on West Tenth Street, New York: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Nov. 30. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MADAM,—I know I ought to respect my duty and perform it, but I + am weak and faithless where boys are concerned, and I can't help secretly + approving pretty bad and noisy ones, though I do object to the kind that + ring door-bells. My family try to get me to stop the boys from holding + conventions on the front steps, but I basely shirk out of it, because I + think the boys enjoy it. + </p> + <p> + My wife has been complaining to me this evening about the boys on the + front steps and under compulsion I have made some promises. But I am very + forgetful, now that I am old, and my sense of duty is getting spongy. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Very truly yours, + S. L. CLEMENS. +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Letters Of Mark Twain, Volume 4, +1886-1900, by Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TWAIN LETTERS, VOL. 4 *** + +***** This file should be named 3196-h.htm or 3196-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/9/3196/ + +Produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> + </body> +</html> |