The Letters Of Mark Twain, Complete

M >> Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) >> The Letters Of Mark Twain, Complete


I have other propositions for a book, but have doubted the propriety of
interfering with good newspaper engagements, except my way as an author
could be demonstrated to be plain before me. But I know Richardson, and
learned from him some months ago, something of an idea of the
subscription plan of publishing. If that is your plan invariably, it
looks safe.

I am on the N. Y. Tribune staff here as an "occasional,", among other
things, and a note from you addressed to
Very truly &c.
SAM L. CLEMENS,

New York Tribune Bureau, Washington, will find me, without fail.


The exchange of these two letters marked the beginning of one of the
most notable publishing connections in American literary history.
The book, however, was not begun immediately. Bliss was in poor
health and final arrangements were delayed; it was not until late in
January that Clemens went to Hartford and concluded the arrangement.

Meantime, fate had disclosed another matter of even greater
importance; we get the first hint of it in the following letter,
though to him its beginning had been earlier--on a day in the blue
harbor of Smyrna, when young Charles Langdon, a fellow-passenger on
the Quaker City, had shown to Mark Twain a miniature of young
Langdon's sister at home:


To Mrs. Jane Clemens and Mrs. Moffett, in St. Louis:

224 F. STREET, WASH, Jan. 8, 1868.
MY DEAR MOTHER AND SISTER,--And so the old Major has been there, has he?
I would like mighty well to see him. I was a sort of benefactor to him
once. I helped to snatch him out when he was about to ride into a
Mohammedan Mosque in that queer old Moorish town of Tangier, in Africa.
If he had got in, the Moors would have knocked his venerable old head
off, for his temerity.

I have just arrived from New York-been there ever since Christmas staying
at the house of Dan Slote my Quaker City room-mate, and having a splendid
time. Charley Langdon, Jack Van Nostrand, Dan and I, (all Quaker City
night-hawks,) had a blow-out at Dan's' house and a lively talk over old
times. We went through the Holy Land together, and I just laughed till
my sides ached, at some of our reminiscences. It was the unholiest gang
that ever cavorted through Palestine, but those are the best boys in the
world. We needed Moulton badly. I started to make calls, New Year's
Day, but I anchored for the day at the first house I came to--Charlie
Langdon's sister was there (beautiful girl,) and Miss Alice Hooker,
another beautiful girl, a niece of Henry Ward Beecher's. We sent the old
folks home early, with instructions not to send the carriage till
midnight, and then I just staid there and worried the life out of those
girls. I am going to spend a few days with the Langdon's in Elmira, New
York, as soon as I get time, and a few days at Mrs. Hooker's in Hartford,
Conn., shortly.

Henry Ward Beecher sent for me last Sunday to come over and dine (he
lives in Brooklyn, you know,) and I went. Harriet Beecher Stowe was
there, and Mrs. and Miss Beecher, Mrs. Hooker and my old Quaker City
favorite, Emma Beach.

We had a very gay time, if it was Sunday. I expect I told more lies than
I have told before in a month.

I went back by invitation, after the evening service, and finished the
blow-out, and then staid all night at Mr. Beach's. Henry Ward is a
brick.

I found out at 10 o'clock, last night, that I was to lecture tomorrow
evening and so you must be aware that I have been working like sin all
night to get a lecture written. I have finished it, I call it "Frozen
Truth." It is a little top-heavy, though, because there is more truth in
the title than there is in the lecture.

But thunder, I mustn't sit here writing all day, with so much business
before me.

Good by, and kind regards to all.
Yrs affy
SAM L. CLEMENS.


Jack Van Nostrand of this letter is "Jack" of the Innocents. Emma
Beach was the daughter of Moses S. Beach, of the 'New York Sun.'
Later she became the wife of the well-known painter, Abbot H.
Thayer.

We do not hear of Miss Langdon again in the letters of that time,
but it was not because she was absent from his thoughts. He had
first seen her with her father and brother at the old St. Nicholas
Hotel, on lower Broadway, where, soon after the arrival of the
Quaker City in New York, he had been invited to dine. Long
afterward he said: "It is forty years ago; from that day to this she
has never been out of my mind."

From his next letter we learn of the lecture which apparently was
delivered in Washington.


To Mrs. Jane Clemens and Mrs. Moffett, in St. Louis:

WASH. Jan. 9, 1868.
MY DEAR MOTHER AND SISTER,--That infernal lecture is over, thank Heaven!
It came near being a villainous failure. It was not advertised at all.
The manager was taken sick yesterday, and the man who was sent to tell
me, never got to me till afternoon today. There was the dickens to pay.
It was too late to do anything--too late to stop the lecture. I scared
up a door-keeper, and was ready at the proper time, and by pure good luck
a tolerably good house assembled and I was saved! I hardly knew what I
was going to talk about, but it went off in splendid style. I was to
have preached again Saturday night, but I won't--I can't get along
without a manager.

I have been in New York ever since Christmas, you know, and now I shall
have to work like sin to catch up my correspondence.

And I have got to get up that book, too. Cut my letters out of the
Alta's and send them to me in an envelop. Some, here, that are not
mailed yet, I shall have to copy, I suppose.

I have got a thousand things to do, and am not doing any of them. I feel
perfectly savage.
Good bye
Yrs aff
SAM.


On the whole, matters were going well with him. His next letter is
full of his success--overflowing with the boyish radiance which he
never quite outgrew.


To Mrs. Jane Clemens and Mrs. Moffett, in St. Louis:

HARTFORD, CONN. Jan. 24-68.
DEAR MOTHER AND SISTER,--This is a good week for me. I stopped in the
Herald office as I came through New York, to see the boys on the staff,
and young James Gordon Bennett asked me to write twice a week,
impersonally, for the Herald, and said if I would I might have full
swing, and (write) about anybody and everybody I wanted to. I said I
must have the very fullest possible swing, and he said "all right."
I said "It's a contract--" and that settled that matter.

I'll make it a point to write one letter a week, any-how.

But the best thing that has happened was here. This great American
Publishing Company kept on trying to bargain with me for a book till I
thought I would cut the matter short by coming up for a talk. I met Rev.
Henry Ward Beecher in Brooklyn, and with his usual whole-souled way of
dropping his own work to give other people a lift when he gets a chance,
he said, "Now, here, you are one of the talented men of the age--nobody
is going to deny that---but in matters of business, I don't suppose you
know more than enough to came in when it rains. I'll tell you what to
do, and how to do it." And he did.

And I listened well, and then came up here and made a splendid contract
for a Quaker City book of 5 or 600 large pages, with illustrations, the
manuscript to be placed in the publishers' hands by the middle of July.
My percentage is to be a fifth more than they have ever paid any author,
except Horace Greeley. Beecher will be surprised, I guess, when he hears
this.

But I had my mind made up to one thing--I wasn't going to touch a book
unless there was money in it, and a good deal of it. I told them so.
I had the misfortune to "bust out" one author of standing. They had his
manuscript, with the understanding that they would publish his book if
they could not get a book from me, (they only publish two books at a
time, and so my book and Richardson's Life of Grant will fill the bill
for next fall and winter)--so that manuscript was sent back to its author
today.

These publishers get off the most tremendous editions of their books you
can imagine. I shall write to the Enterprise and Alta every week,
as usual, I guess, and to the Herald twice a week--occasionally to the
Tribune and the Magazines (I have a stupid article in the Galaxy, just
issued) but I am not going to write to this, that and the other paper any
more.

The Chicago Tribune wants letters, but I hope and pray I have charged
them so much that they will not close the contract. I am gradually
getting out of debt, but these trips to New York do cost like sin.
I hope you have cut out and forwarded my printed letters to Washington
--please continue to do so as they arrive.

I have had a tip-top time, here, for a few days (guest of Mr. Jno.
Hooker's family--Beecher's relatives-in a general way of Mr. Bliss, also,
who is head of the publishing firm.) Puritans are mighty straight-laced
and they won't let me smoke in the parlor, but the Almighty don't make
any better people.

Love to all-good-bye. I shall be in New York 3 days--then go on to the
Capital.
Yrs affly, especially Ma.,
Yr SAM.

I have to make a speech at the annual Herald dinner on the 6th of May.


No formal contract for the book had been made when this letter was
written. A verbal agreement between Bliss and Clemens had been
reached, to be ratified by an exchange of letters in the near
future. Bliss had made two propositions, viz., ten thousand
dollars, cash in hand, or a 5-per-cent. royalty on the selling price
of the book. The cash sum offered looked very large to Mark Twain,
and he was sorely tempted to accept it. He had faith, however, in
the book, and in Bliss's ability to sell it. He agreed, therefore,
to the royalty proposition; "The best business judgment I ever
displayed" he often declared in after years. Five per cent.
royalty sounds rather small in these days of more liberal contracts.
But the American Publishing Company sold its books only by
subscription, and the agents' commissions and delivery expenses ate
heavily into the profits. Clemens was probably correct in saying
that his percentage was larger than had been paid to any previous
author except Horace Greeley. The John Hooker mentioned was the
husband of Henry Ward Beecher's sister, Isabel. It was easy to
understand the Beecher family's robust appreciation of Mark Twain.

From the office of Dan Slote, his room-mate of the Quaker City
--"Dan" of the Innocents--Clemens wrote his letter that closed the
agreement with Bliss.


To Elisha Bliss, Jr., in Hartford:

Office of SLOTE & WOODMAN, Blank Book Manufacturers,
Nos. 119-121 William St.
NEW YORK, January 27, 1868.
Mr. E. Bliss, Jr.
Sec'y American Publishing Co.
Hartford Conn.

DEAR SIR, Your favor of Jan. 25th is received, and in reply, I will say
that I accede to your several propositions, viz: That I furnish to the
American Publishing Company, through you, with MSS sufficient for a
volume of 500 to 600 pages, the subject to be the Quaker City, the
voyage, description of places, &c., and also embodying the substance of
the letters written by me during that trip, said MSS to be ready about
the first of August, next, I to give all the usual and necessary
attention in preparing said MSS for the press, and in preparation of
illustrations, in correction of proofs--no use to be made by me of the
material for this work in any way which will conflict with its interest
--the book to be sold by the American Publishing Co., by subscription
--and for said MS and labor on my part said Company to pay me a copyright
of 5 percent, upon the subscription price of the book for all copies
sold.

As further proposed by you, this understanding, herein set forth shall be
considered a binding contract upon all parties concerned, all minor
details to be arranged between us hereafter.
Very truly yours,
SAM. L. CLEMENS.


(Private and General.)

I was to have gone to Washington tonight, but have held over a day, to
attend a dinner given by a lot of newspaper Editors and literary
scalliwags, at the Westminster Hotel. Shall go down to-morrow, if I
survive the banquet.
Yrs truly
SAM. CLEMENS.


Mark Twain, in Washington, was in line for political preferment: His
wide acquaintance on the Pacific slope, his new fame and growing
popularity, his powerful and dreaded pen, all gave him special
distinction at the capital. From time to time the offer of one
office or another tempted him, but he wisely, or luckily, resisted.
In his letters home are presented some of his problems.


To Mrs. Jane Clemens and Mrs. Moffett, in St. Louis:

224 F. STREET WASHINGTON Feb. 6, 1868.
MY DEAR MOTHER AND SISTER,--For two months there have been some fifty
applications before the government for the postmastership of San
Francisco, which is the heaviest concentration of political power on the
coast and consequently is a post which is much coveted.,

When I found that a personal friend of mine, the Chief Editor of the Alta
was an applicant I said I didn't want it--I would not take $10,000 a year
out of a friend's pocket.

The two months have passed, I heard day before yesterday that a new and
almost unknown candidate had suddenly turned up on the inside track, and
was to be appointed at once. I didn't like that, and went after his case
in a fine passion. I hunted up all our Senators and representatives and
found that his name was actually to come from the President early in the
morning.

Then Judge Field said if I wanted the place he could pledge me the
President's appointment--and Senator Conness said he would guarantee me
the Senate's confirmation. It was a great temptation, but it would
render it impossible to fill my book contract, and I had to drop the
idea.

I have to spend August and September in Hartford which isn't San
Francisco. Mr. Conness offers me any choice out of five influential
California offices. Now, some day or other I shall want an office and
then, just my luck, I can't get it, I suppose.

They want to send me abroad, as a Consul or a Minister. I said I didn't
want any of the pie. God knows I am mean enough and lazy enough, now,
without being a foreign consul.

Sometime in the course of the present century I think they will create a
Commissioner of Patents, and then I hope to get a berth for Orion.

I published 6 or 7 letters in the Tribune while I was gone, now I cannot
get them. I suppose I must have them copied.
Love to all
SAM.


Orion Clemens was once more a candidate for office: Nevada had become a
State; with regularly elected officials, and Orion had somehow missed
being chosen. His day of authority had passed, and the law having failed
to support him, he was again back at his old occupation, setting type in
St. Louis. He was, as ever, full of dreams and inventions that would
some day lead to fortune. With the gift of the Sellers imagination,
inherited by all the family, he lacked the driving power which means
achievement. More and more as the years went by he would lean upon his
brother for moral and physical support. The chances for him in
Washington do not appear to have been bright. The political situation
under Andrew Johnson was not a happy one.


To Orion Clemens, in St. Louis:

224 F. STREET, WASH., Feb. 21. (1868)
MY DEAR BRO.,--I am glad you do not want the clerkship, for that Patent
Office is in such a muddle that there would be no security for the
permanency of a place in it. The same remark will apply to all offices
here, now, and no doubt will, till the close of the present
administration.

Any man who holds a place here, now, stands prepared at all times to
vacate it. You are doing, now, exactly what I wanted you to do a year
ago.

We chase phantoms half the days of our lives.

It is well if we learn wisdom even then, and save the other half.

I am in for it. I must go on chasing them until I marry--then I am done
with literature and all other bosh,--that is, literature wherewith to
please the general public.

I shall write to please myself, then. I hope you will set type till you
complete that invention, for surely government pap must be nauseating
food for a man--a man whom God has enabled to saw wood and be
independent. It really seemed to me a falling from grace, the idea of
going back to San Francisco nothing better than a mere postmaster, albeit
the public would have thought I came with gilded honors, and in great
glory.

I only retain correspondence enough, now, to make a living for myself,
and have discarded all else, so that I may have time to spare for the
book. Drat the thing, I wish it were done, or that I had no other
writing to do.

This is the place to get a poor opinion of everybody in. There isn't one
man in Washington, in civil office, who has the brains of Anson
Burlingame--and I suppose if China had not seized and saved his great
talents to the world, this government would have discarded him when his
time was up.

There are more pitiful intellects in this Congress! Oh, geeminy! There
are few of them that I find pleasant enough company to visit.

I am most infernally tired of Wash. and its "attractions." To be busy
is a man's only happiness--and I am--otherwise I should die
Yrs. aff.
SAM.


The secretarial position with Senator Stewart was short-lived. One
cannot imagine Mark Twain as anybody's secretary, and doubtless
there was little to be gained on either side by the arrangement.
They parted without friction, though in later years, when Stewart
had become old and irascible, he used to recount a list of
grievances and declare that he had been obliged to threaten violence
in order to bring Mark to terms; but this was because the author of
Roughing It had in that book taken liberties with the Senator, to
the extent of an anecdote and portrait which, though certainly
harmless enough, had for some reason given deep offense.

Mark Twain really had no time for secretary work. For one thing he
was associated with John Swinton in supplying a Washington letter to
a list of newspapers, and then he was busy collecting his Quaker
City letters, and preparing the copy for his book. Matters were
going well enough, when trouble developed from an unexpected
quarter. The Alta-California had copyrighted the letters and
proposed to issue them in book form. There had been no contract
which would prevent this, and the correspondence which Clemens
undertook with the Alta management led to nothing. He knew that he
had powerful friends among the owners, if he could reach them
personally, and he presently concluded to return to San Francisco,
make what arrangement he could, and finish his book there. It was
his fashion to be prompt; in his next letter we find him already on
the way.


To Mrs. Jane Clemens and family, in St. Louis:

AT SEA, Sunday, March 15, Lat. 25. (1868)
DEAR FOLKS,--I have nothing to write, except that I am well--that the
weather is fearfully hot-that the Henry Chauncey is a magnificent ship
--that we have twelve hundred, passengers on board--that I have two
staterooms, and so am not crowded--that I have many pleasant friends
here, and the people are not so stupid as on the Quaker City--that we had
Divine Service in the main saloon at 10.30 this morning--that we expect
to meet the upward bound vessel in Latitude 23, and this is why I am
writing now.

We shall reach Aspinwall Thursday morning at 6 o'clock, and San Francisco
less than two weeks later. I worry a great deal about being obliged to
go without seeing you all, but it could not be helped.

Dan Slote, my splendid room-mate in the Quaker City and the noblest man
on earth, will call to see you within a month. Make him dine with you
and spend the evening. His house is my home always in. New York.
Yrs affy,
SAM.


The San Francisco trip proved successful. Once on the ground Clemens had
little difficulty in convincing the Alta publishers that they had
received full value in the newspaper use of the letters, and that the
book rights remained with the author. A letter to Bliss conveys the
situation.


To Elisha Bliss, Jr., in Hartford:

SAN FRANCISCO, May 5, '68.

E. BLISS, Jr. Esq.

Dr. SIR,--The Alta people, after some hesitation, have given me
permission to use my printed letters, and have ceased to think of
publishing them themselves in book form. I am steadily at work, and
shall start East with the completed Manuscript, about the middle of June.

I lectured here, on the trip, the other night-over sixteen hundred
dollars in gold in the house--every seat taken and paid for before night.
Yrs truly,
MARK TWAIN.


But he did not sail in June. His friends persuaded him to cover his
lecture circuit of two years before, telling the story of his
travels. This he did with considerable profit, being everywhere
received with great honors. He ended this tour with a second
lecture in San Francisco, announced in a droll and characteristic
fashion which delighted his Pacific admirers, and insured him a
crowded house.--[See Mark Twain: A Biography, chap xlvi, and
Appendix H.]

His agreement had been to deliver his MS. about August 1st.
Returning by the Chauncey, July 28th, he was two days later in
Hartford, and had placid the copy for the new book in Bliss's hands.
It was by no means a compilation of his newspaper letters. His
literary vision was steadily broadening. All of the letters had
been radically edited, some had been rewritten, some entirely
eliminated. He probably thought very well of the book, an opinion
shared by Bliss, but it is unlikely that either of them realized
that it was to become a permanent classic, and the best selling book
of travel for at least fifty years.




IX.

LETTERS 1868-70. COURTSHIP, AND "THE INNOCENTS ABROAD"

The story of Mark Twain's courtship has been fully told in the
completer story of his life; it need only be briefly sketched here
as a setting for the letters of this period. In his letter of
January 8th we note that he expects to go to Elmira for a few days
as soon as he has time.

But he did not have time, or perhaps did not receive a pressing
invitation until he had returned with his MS. from California.
Then, through young Charles Langdon, his Quaker City shipmate, he
was invited to Elmira. The invitation was given for a week, but
through a subterfuge--unpremeditated, and certainly fair enough in
a matter of love-he was enabled to considerably prolong his visit.
By the end of his stay he had become really "like one of the
family," though certainly not yet accepted as such. The fragmentary
letter that follows reflects something of his pleasant situation.
The Mrs. Fairbanks mentioned in this letter had been something more
than a "shipmother" to Mark Twain. She was a woman of fine literary
taste, and Quaker City correspondent for her husband's paper, the
Cleveland Herald. She had given Mark Twain sound advice as to his
letters, which he had usually read to her, and had in no small
degree modified his early natural tendency to exaggeration and
outlandish humor. He owed her much, and never failed to pay her
tribute.

Part of a letter to Mrs. Jane Clemens and family, in St. Louis:

ELMIRA, N.Y. Aug. 26, 1868.
DEAR FOLKS,--You see I am progressing--though slowly. I shall be here
a week yet maybe two--for Charlie Langdon cannot get away until his
father's chief business man returns from a journey--and a visit to Mrs.
Fairbanks, at Cleveland, would lose half its pleasure if Charlie were not
along. Moulton of St. Louis ought to be there too. We three were Mrs.
F's "cubs," in the Quaker City. She took good care that we were at
church regularly on Sundays; at the 8-bells prayer meeting every night;
and she kept our buttons sewed on and our clothing in order--and in a
word was as busy and considerate, and as watchful over her family of
uncouth and unruly cubs, and as patient and as long-suffering, withal, as
a natural mother. So we expect.....