Clemens was now fairly back again in the wash of banquets and
speech-making that had claimed him on his return from England, five
years before. He made no less than a dozen speeches altogether that
winter, and he was continually at some feasting or other, where he
was sure to be called upon for remarks. He fell out of the habit of
preparing his addresses, relying upon the inspiration of the moment,
merely following the procedure of his daily dictations, which had
doubtless given him confidence for this departure from his earlier
method. There was seldom an afternoon or an evening that he was not
required, and seldom a morning that the papers did not have some report
of his doings. Once more, and in a larger fashion than ever, he had
become “the belle of New York.” But he was something further. An
editorial in the Evening Mail said:
Mark Twain, in his “last and best of life for which the first was
made,” seems to be advancing rapidly to a position which makes him a
kind of joint Aristides, Solon, and Themistocles of the American
metropolis--an Aristides for justness and boldness as well as
incessancy of opinion, a Solon for wisdom and cogency, and a
Themistocles for the democracy of his views and the popularity of
his person.
Things have reached the point where, if Mark Twain is not at a
public meeting or banquet, he is expected to console it with one of
his inimitable letters of advice and encouragement. If he deigns to
make a public appearance there is a throng at the doors which
overtaxes the energy and ability of the police. We must be glad
that we have a public commentator like Mark Twain always at hand and
his wit and wisdom continually on tap. His sound, breezy
Mississippi Valley Americanism is a corrective to all sorts of
snobbery. He cultivates respect for human rights by always making
sure that he has his own.
He talked one afternoon to the Barnard girls, and another afternoon to
the Women's University Club, illustrating his talk with what purported
to be moral tales. He spoke at a dinner given to City Tax Commissioner
Mr. Charles Putzel; and when he was introduced there as the man who had
said, “When in doubt tell the truth,” he replied that he had invented
that maxim for others, but that when in doubt himself, he used more
sagacity.
The speeches he made kept his hearers always in good humor; but he made
them think, too, for there was always substance and sound reason and
searching satire in the body of what he said.
It was natural that there should be reporters calling frequently at Mark
Twain's home, and now and then the place became a veritable storm-center
of news. Such a moment arrived when it became known that a public
library in Brooklyn had banished Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer from the
children's room, presided over by a young woman of rather severe morals.
The incident had begun in November of the previous year. One of the
librarians, Asa Don Dickinson, who had vigorously voted against the
decree, wrote privately of the matter. Clemens had replied:
DEAR SIR,--I am greatly troubled by what you say. I wrote Tom
Sawyer & Huck Finn for adults exclusively, & it always distresses me
when I find that boys & girls have been allowed access to them. The
mind that becomes soiled in youth can never again be washed clean.
I know this by my own experience, & to this day I cherish an
unappeasable bitterness against the unfaithful guardians of my young
life, who not only permitted but compelled me to read an
unexpurgated Bible through before I was 15 years old. None can do
that and ever draw a clean, sweet breath again this side of the
grave. Ask that young lady--she will tell you so.
Most honestly do I wish that I could say a softening word or two in
defense of Huck's character since you wish it, but really, in my
opinion, it is no better than those of Solomon, David, & the rest of
the sacred brotherhood.
If there is an unexpurgated in the Children's Department, won't you
please help that young woman remove Tom & Huck from that
questionable companionship?
Sincerely yours,
S. L. CLEMENS.