That Mark Twain should feel and privately report something of his
triumphs we need not wonder at. Certainly he was never one to give
himself airs, but to have the world's great literary center paying
court to him, who only ten years before had been penniless and
unknown, and who once had been a barefoot Tom Sawyer in Hannibal,
was quite startling. It is gratifying to find evidence of human
weakness in the following heart-to-heart letter to his publisher,
especially in view of the relating circumstances.
*****
To Elisha Bliss, in Hartford:
LONDON, Sept. 28, 1872.
FRIEND BLISS,--I have been received in a sort of tremendous way,
tonight, by the brains of London, assembled at the annual dinner of the
Sheriffs of London--mine being (between you and me) a name which was
received with a flattering outburst of spontaneous applause when the
long list of guests was called.
I might have perished on the spot but for the friendly support and
assistance of my excellent friend Sir John Bennett--and I want you
to paste the enclosed in a couple of the handsomest copies of the
“Innocents” and “Roughing It,” and send them to him. His address is
“Sir John Bennett,
Cheapside,
London.”
Yrs Truly
S. L. CLEMENS.
The “relating circumstances” were these: At the abovementioned
dinner there had been a roll-call of the distinguished guests
present, and each name had been duly applauded. Clemens, conversing
in a whisper with his neighbor, Sir John Bennett, did not give very
close attention to the names, applauding mechanically with the
others.
Finally, a name was read that brought out a vehement hand-clapping.
Mark Twain, not to be outdone in cordiality, joined vigorously, and
kept his hands going even after the others finished. Then,
remarking the general laughter, he whispered to Sir John: “Whose
name was that we were just applauding?”
“Mark Twain's.”
We may believe that the “friendly support” of Sir John Bennett was
welcome for the moment. But the incident could do him no harm; the
diners regarded it as one of his jokes, and enjoyed him all the more
for it.
He was ready to go home by November, but by no means had he had
enough of England. He really had some thought of returning there
permanently. In a letter to Mrs. Crane, at Quarry Farm, he wrote:
“If you and Theodore will come over in the Spring with Livy and me,
and spend the summer you will see a country that is so beautiful
that you will be obliged to believe in Fairyland..... and Theodore
can browse with me among dusty old dens that look now as they looked
five hundred years ago; and puzzle over books in the British Museum
that were made before Christ was born; and in the customs of their
public dinners, and the ceremonies of every official act, and the
dresses of a thousand dignitaries, trace the speech and manners of
all the centuries that have dragged their lagging decades over
England since the Heptarchy fell asunder. I would a good deal
rather live here if I could get the rest of you over.”
In a letter home, to his mother and sister, we get a further picture
of his enjoyment.
*****
To Mrs. Jane Clemens and Mrs. Moffett:
LONDON, Nov. 6, 1872.
MY DEAR MOTHER AND SISTER,--I have been so everlasting busy that I
couldn't write--and moreover I have been so unceasingly lazy that I
couldn't have written anyhow. I came here to take notes for a book, but
I haven't done much but attend dinners and make speeches. But have had a
jolly good time and I do hate to go away from these English folks; they
make a stranger feel entirely at home--and they laugh so easily that it
is a comfort to make after-dinner speeches here. I have made hundreds
of friends; and last night in the crush of the opening of the New
Guild-hall Library and Museum, I was surprised to meet a familiar face
every few steps. Nearly 4,000 people, of both sexes, came and went
during the evening, so I had a good opportunity to make a great many new
acquaintances.
Livy is willing to come here with me next April and stay several
months--so I am going home next Tuesday. I would sail on Saturday, but
that is the day of the Lord Mayor's annual grand state dinner, when they
say 900 of the great men of the city sit down to table, a great many of
them in their fine official and court paraphernalia, so I must not miss
it. However, I may yet change my mind and sail Saturday. I am looking
at a fine Magic lantern which will cost a deal of money, and if I buy
it Sammy may come and learn to make the gas and work the machinery,
and paint pictures for it on glass. I mean to give exhibitions for
charitable purposes in Hartford, and charge a dollar a head.
In a hurry,
Ys affly
SAM.
He sailed November 12th on the Batavia, arriving in New York two
weeks later. There had been a presidential election in his absence.
General Grant had defeated Horace Greeley, a result, in some measure
at least, attributed to the amusing and powerful pictures of the
cartoonist, Thomas Nast. Mark Twain admired Greeley's talents, but
he regarded him as poorly qualified for the nation's chief
executive. He wrote:
*****
To Th. Nast, in Morristown, N. J.:
HARTFORD, Nov. 1872.
Nast, you more than any other man have won a prodigious victory for
Grant--I mean, rather, for civilization and progress. Those pictures
were simply marvelous, and if any man in the land has a right to hold
his head up and be honestly proud of his share in this year's vast
events that man is unquestionably yourself. We all do sincerely honor
you, and are proud of you.