January 29 Tuesday – At 1410 W. 10th in N.Y.C., Sam wrote to Joe Twichell.

Dear Joe,—

I’m not expecting anything but kicks for scoffing, & am expecting a diminution of my bread & butter by it, but if Livy will let me I will have my say. This nation is like all the others that have been spewed upon the earth—ready to shout for any cause that will tickle its vanity or fill its pocket. What a hell of a heaven it will be, when they get all these hypocrites assembled there!

I can’t understand it! You are a public guide & teacher, Joe, & are under a heavy responsibility to men, young & old; if you teach your people—as you teach me—to hide their opinions when they believe the flag is being abused & dishonored, lest the utterance do them & a publisher a damage, how do you answer for it to your conscience? You are sorry for me; in the fair way of give & take, I am willing to be a little sorry for you.

However, I seem to be going counter to my own Private Philosophy—which Livy won’t allow me to publish—because it would destroy me. But I hope to see it in print before I die. I planned it 15 years ago, & wrote it in ‘98. I’ve often tried to read it to Livy, but she won’t have it; it makes her melancholy. The truth always has that effect on people. Would have, anyway, if they ever got hold of a rag of it—Which they don’t. You are supposing that I am supposing that I am moved by a Large Patriotism, & that I am distressed because our President has blundered up to his neck in the Philippine mess; & that I am grieved because this great big ignorant nation, which doesn’t know even the A B C facts of the Philippine episode, is in disgrace before the sarcastic world—drop that idea! I care nothing for the rest—I am only distressed & troubled because I am befouled by these things. That is all. When I search myself away down deep, I find this out. Whatever a man feels or thinks or does, there is never any but one reason for it—& that is a selfish one.

At great inconvenience, & expense of precious time I went to the chief synagogue the other night & talked in the interest of a charity school of poor Jew girls. I know—to the finest, shades—the selfish ends that moved me; but no one else suspects. I could give you the details if I had time. You would perceive how true they are.

I’ve written another article; you better hurry down & help Livy squelch it.

She’s out pottering around somewhere, poor housekeeping slave; & Clara is in the hands of the osteopath, getting the bronchitis pulled & hauled out of her. It was a bad attack, & a little disquieting. It came day before yesterday, & she hasn’t sat up till this afternoon. She is getting along satisfactorily, now.

Lots of love to you all.

MARK

[MTP: Paine’s 1917 Mark Twain’s Letters 704-6]. Note: Sam’s “&”’s restored that Paine yanked out.

Sam also wrote a postcard to the Plasmon Co., 41 Astor Court Bldg. asking them to send “some (quarter pound packets) to hand around.” Sam announced he was “coming soon” [MTP].

Sam’s notebook: “Mrs. Custer, dinner?” [NB 44 TS 4].