July 16 Sunday – In Dublin, N.H. Sam wrote to Virginia Frazer Boyle in Memphis, Tenn.
We are here for 6 months, & shall go home when the cold drives us. I shall find your book there if it doesn’t come here—& there is the right place, for I do not read anything that is interesting when I am at work, because it breaks my thread, & summer is my work-time. I have lost only one day of the 60-odd that I have had here. The resulting stack of manuscript is pretty high. When shall I arrive down there? I am very close to 70, now, & I don’t suppose I shall ever make another journey. I beg you to give my cordial regards to your husband, & thank him for thinking so well of my work. Sometimes I don’t admire it myself after it gets into print, but I like others to admire it.
Jean is here with me, but Clara is spending a year & a half in a rest-cure in Connecticut.
Jean came yesterday from a visit there, & brings a good report from specialist & nurse.
Jean & I wish to remember ourselves most kindly to you [MTP]. Note: Boyle’s 1905 book, Serena, A Novel is the likely book referred to [Gribben 80].
Sam also wrote to daughter Clara.
Clärchen dear, Jean arrived yesterday afternoon per a succession of belated trains & was tired out and famished. But she is up & entirely restored & satisfactory to-day. She doesn’t bring as good a report of you as I would like, but she thinks you will improve—so mote it be!
At the nice little club house in the woods by the lake they had a talk yesterday afternoon by a bright Japanese gentleman & I went & heard it. It was an exceedingly nice & attractive audience of 50 or 60—chiefly ladies—& I held the usual reception. They asked me if I wouldn’t do a talk presently, & I said I would if all mention of it could be kept out of print— but I took that back & said I must have your consent & Jean’s first.
My idea is a talk, from a page of skeleton notes, upon the construction of the human mind & its methods of procedure—a subject that is full of meat, & surpassingly interesting. What do you think of the project, dear?
When Duneka was here the other day [July 12] he wanted me to write Eve’s Diary for the Xmas Harper, & I said I would think about it & let him know. I wrote upon it 3 days—6,500 or 7,000 words, (Adam’s is only 4,500.)
I like it. But it makes Adam’s Diary seem coarse & poor. Eve has no unrefinements, either of conduct or speech, & I think she’s charming. Miss Lyon says she reminds her of you all the time. I suppose certain qualities of her nature & character, she means—& what you would be in Eve’s place: immature, & very ignorant.
I think the Diary is finished, Miss Lyon thinks not. I will wait a day or two or a week or two & see. Meantime I will go back to “The Mysterious Stranger” or to the “Adventures of a Microbe”—the former, I think.
I made the notes for that (possible) talk to-day, but I did no work yesterday, for I waited for Eve to speak & she didn’t; I thought she might speak to-day, but she didn’t. If she doesn’t speak tomorrow I will go at those other books.
Jean & I are going calling, now. / Love to you, dear ashcat. / Father [MTP].
Note: Sam did give a talk, likely for this group. A. Hoffman writes of it but gives no date nor citation for the quote used, though he contends it was Sam’s first public comments in a year. It would have been sometime after this letter and before his trip to Norfolk, Conn. Aug. 9. “Agreeing to speak at a benefit for a cause that interested his Monadnock neighbors, Mark Twain’s first public appearance in over a year, he rolled halfway through an anecdote until the clicking of knitting needles arrested Sam mid-thought. He declared, ‘I have never had the pleasure of playing second fiddle to a sock, so I’ll stop speaking! I suggest that you all knit more socks and sell them for your charity.’” [465]. Hill also cites this event but gives it as 1906, which would negate Hoffman’s contention that it was his first appearance in a year; Hill also fingers the knitter as the daughter of Thomas Wentworth Higginson [117].
Sam also wrote to Frederick A. Duneka.
Dear Mr. Duneka,—I wrote Eve’s Diary, she using Adam’s Diary as her (unwitting and unconscious) text, of course, since to use any other text would have been an imbecility—then I took Adam’s Diary and read it. It turned my stomach. It was not literature; yet it had been literature once—before I sold it to be degraded to an advertisement of the Buffalo Fair. I was going to write and ask you to melt the plates and put it out of print. But this morning I examined it without temper, and saw that if I abolished the advertisement it would be literature again. So I have done it. I have struck out 700 words and inserted 5 MS pages of new matter (650 words), and now Adam’s Diary is dam good—sixty times as good as it ever was before.
I believe it is as good as Eve’s Diary now—no, it’s not quite that good, I guess, but it is good enough to go in the same cover with Eve’s. I’m sure of that. I hate to have the old Adam go out any more—don’t put it on the presses again, let’s put the new one in place of it; and next Xmas, let us bind Adam and Eve in one cover. They score points against each other—so, if not bound together, some of the points would not be perceived. . . .
P. S. Please send another Adam’s Diary , so that I can make 2 revised copies. Eve’s Diary is Eve’s love-Story, but we will not name it that. / Yrs ever, … [MTP]. Note: Sam took up Eve’s Diary on July 12.
Sam also wrote to John Y. MacAlister in London. He began by expressing sympathy for both Mr. and Mrs. MacAlister’s health. Then reflected on their tough year:
So it has been a long year for us, & not without anxiety. Clara’s horse ran away the other day, & that gave me a scare, but it turned out that Clara was not along at the time—it was only strangers that were endangered, & I don’t so much mind strangers.
We like it here in the mountains in the shadow of Monadnock. It is a woodsy solitude. We have no near neighbors. I arrived May 20, & have turned out considerably more than 100,000 words & the mill is still grinding cheerfully. We have neighbors, & I can see their houses scattered in the far distance, for we live /on a hill. I am astonished to find that I have known 8 of these 14 neighbors a long long time—10 years, is the shortest; then seven beginning with 25 years & running up to 37 years’ friendship. It is the most remarkable thing I ever heard of.
With great love to you & to Mrs. Mac Alister— [MTP]. Note: Paine mistook the second and third paragraphs above as to Twichell [MTB 1238].
Isabel Lyon’s journal: Jean told me much about C.C. [Clara]. There seems to be a tragic something hanging near. Some fate that is coursing along in their blood, and waiting to drop with a clutch at their hearts.
Today Mr. Clemens wrote Mr. Duneka about correcting on Adam’s Diary and the eventual joint publication of Adam’s & Eve’s Diaries [MTP TS 78].
From 5 to 8 p.m. Sam and daughter Jean called on neighbors [July 17 to Clara].
We are here for 6 months, & shall go home when the cold drives us. I shall find your book there if it doesn’t come here—& there is the right place, for I do not read anything that is interesting when I am at work, because it breaks my thread, & summer is my work-time. I have lost only one day of the 60-odd that I have had here. The resulting stack of manuscript is pretty high. When shall I arrive down there? I am very close to 70, now, & I don’t suppose I shall ever make another journey. I beg you to give my cordial regards to your husband, & thank him for thinking so well of my work. Sometimes I don’t admire it myself after it gets into print, but I like others to admire it.
Jean is here with me, but Clara is spending a year & a half in a rest-cure in Connecticut.
Jean came yesterday from a visit there, & brings a good report from specialist & nurse.
Jean & I wish to remember ourselves most kindly to you [MTP]. Note: Boyle’s 1905 book, Serena, A Novel is the likely book referred to [Gribben 80].
Sam also wrote to daughter Clara.
Clärchen dear, Jean arrived yesterday afternoon per a succession of belated trains & was tired out and famished. But she is up & entirely restored & satisfactory to-day. She doesn’t bring as good a report of you as I would like, but she thinks you will improve—so mote it be!
At the nice little club house in the woods by the lake they had a talk yesterday afternoon by a bright Japanese gentleman & I went & heard it. It was an exceedingly nice & attractive audience of 50 or 60—chiefly ladies—& I held the usual reception. They asked me if I wouldn’t do a talk presently, & I said I would if all mention of it could be kept out of print— but I took that back & said I must have your consent & Jean’s first.
My idea is a talk, from a page of skeleton notes, upon the construction of the human mind & its methods of procedure—a subject that is full of meat, & surpassingly interesting. What do you think of the project, dear?
When Duneka was here the other day [July 12] he wanted me to write Eve’s Diary for the Xmas Harper, & I said I would think about it & let him know. I wrote upon it 3 days—6,500 or 7,000 words, (Adam’s is only 4,500.)
I like it. But it makes Adam’s Diary seem coarse & poor. Eve has no unrefinements, either of conduct or speech, & I think she’s charming. Miss Lyon says she reminds her of you all the time. I suppose certain qualities of her nature & character, she means—& what you would be in Eve’s place: immature, & very ignorant.
I think the Diary is finished, Miss Lyon thinks not. I will wait a day or two or a week or two & see. Meantime I will go back to “The Mysterious Stranger” or to the “Adventures of a Microbe”—the former, I think.
I made the notes for that (possible) talk to-day, but I did no work yesterday, for I waited for Eve to speak & she didn’t; I thought she might speak to-day, but she didn’t. If she doesn’t speak tomorrow I will go at those other books.
Jean & I are going calling, now. / Love to you, dear ashcat. / Father [MTP].
Note: Sam did give a talk, likely for this group. A. Hoffman writes of it but gives no date nor citation for the quote used, though he contends it was Sam’s first public comments in a year. It would have been sometime after this letter and before his trip to Norfolk, Conn. Aug. 9. “Agreeing to speak at a benefit for a cause that interested his Monadnock neighbors, Mark Twain’s first public appearance in over a year, he rolled halfway through an anecdote until the clicking of knitting needles arrested Sam mid-thought. He declared, ‘I have never had the pleasure of playing second fiddle to a sock, so I’ll stop speaking! I suggest that you all knit more socks and sell them for your charity.’” [465]. Hill also cites this event but gives it as 1906, which would negate Hoffman’s contention that it was his first appearance in a year; Hill also fingers the knitter as the daughter of Thomas Wentworth Higginson [117].
Sam also wrote to Frederick A. Duneka.
Dear Mr. Duneka,—I wrote Eve’s Diary, she using Adam’s Diary as her (unwitting and unconscious) text, of course, since to use any other text would have been an imbecility—then I took Adam’s Diary and read it. It turned my stomach. It was not literature; yet it had been literature once—before I sold it to be degraded to an advertisement of the Buffalo Fair. I was going to write and ask you to melt the plates and put it out of print. But this morning I examined it without temper, and saw that if I abolished the advertisement it would be literature again. So I have done it. I have struck out 700 words and inserted 5 MS pages of new matter (650 words), and now Adam’s Diary is dam good—sixty times as good as it ever was before.
I believe it is as good as Eve’s Diary now—no, it’s not quite that good, I guess, but it is good enough to go in the same cover with Eve’s. I’m sure of that. I hate to have the old Adam go out any more—don’t put it on the presses again, let’s put the new one in place of it; and next Xmas, let us bind Adam and Eve in one cover. They score points against each other—so, if not bound together, some of the points would not be perceived. . . .
P. S. Please send another Adam’s Diary , so that I can make 2 revised copies. Eve’s Diary is Eve’s love-Story, but we will not name it that. / Yrs ever, … [MTP]. Note: Sam took up Eve’s Diary on July 12.
Sam also wrote to John Y. MacAlister in London. He began by expressing sympathy for both Mr. and Mrs. MacAlister’s health. Then reflected on their tough year:
So it has been a long year for us, & not without anxiety. Clara’s horse ran away the other day, & that gave me a scare, but it turned out that Clara was not along at the time—it was only strangers that were endangered, & I don’t so much mind strangers.
We like it here in the mountains in the shadow of Monadnock. It is a woodsy solitude. We have no near neighbors. I arrived May 20, & have turned out considerably more than 100,000 words & the mill is still grinding cheerfully. We have neighbors, & I can see their houses scattered in the far distance, for we live /on a hill. I am astonished to find that I have known 8 of these 14 neighbors a long long time—10 years, is the shortest; then seven beginning with 25 years & running up to 37 years’ friendship. It is the most remarkable thing I ever heard of.
With great love to you & to Mrs. Mac Alister— [MTP]. Note: Paine mistook the second and third paragraphs above as to Twichell [MTB 1238].
Isabel Lyon’s journal: Jean told me much about C.C. [Clara]. There seems to be a tragic something hanging near. Some fate that is coursing along in their blood, and waiting to drop with a clutch at their hearts.
Today Mr. Clemens wrote Mr. Duneka about correcting on Adam’s Diary and the eventual joint publication of Adam’s & Eve’s Diaries [MTP TS 78].
From 5 to 8 p.m. Sam and daughter Jean called on neighbors [July 17 to Clara].
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