March 11 Sunday – Isabel Lyon’s journal:
This morning I went in with some more left over mail. A letter from John D. Rockefeller S.S. [Sunday School] chairman or something, asking Mr. Clemens to address that class. He chuckled and said “I daren’t be with them, but I’d like it mighty well,” for he’d talk about Joseph of course. We had such a talk about the human race.
But the morning was so beautiful. Mr. Clemens went to work to write a fictitious correspondence between himself & Brig. Gen. Fred D. Grant which was to be submitted to H.G. Muller & Mr. Dearborn when they came this afternoon, & to be printed in the Carnegie Hall programs to excuse Mr. Clemens from any formal Fulton Memorial speech making. He read most of it aloud to me when I went in later & was joined there by Mr. Paine who came in to show Mr. Clemens the Tribune article which was in the Herald & Mr. Clemens excused us both so that he could continue his work & we came up to my rooms.
[continued on separate pieces of paper:]
Mr. Clemens didn’t come down to luncheon, he had a glass of milk & at 2:30 Mr. & Mrs. Gordon Miller came for the interview or rather Mr. Muller, but we all went up to the bedroom & Mr. Clemens read aloud that fictitious correspondence & the plans are made for the Carnegie Hall speech which is to be made some time in the week before “Holy Week”. Mr. Clemens remarked “Mrs. Miller is a pretty and very young woman. Too good for Miller.”
After they left Mr. Clemens went down to the living room where we had music until we were interrupted by a young Mr. Elsberg—the student who introduced everyone to Mr. Clemens at the Columbia Reception a fortnight or so ago. He proved a tiresome creature, & when A.C. Fahnestock came in to see Mr. Clemens that gave him the needed chance to leave the worrisome companionship of young Elsberg, & when Mr. F. left, Mr. Clemens slipped away & out into the fresh air for a stroll. Elsberg stayed on & on, but by & by Mary Lawton came in, handsome & fresh & full of Dr. Anspacher’s play of Tristan & Isolde which she has just been reading & which is admirably suited to her heroic personality, & which she is to have for her own if she can interest people in the rather costly presentation of it. Finally Elsberg left & then Miss Lawton told us of an interesting interview she had had the afternoon before with Ada Rehan, when she went to see her with a letter of introduction from Mr. Clemens. Miss Lawton was very anxious to have Ada Rehan coach her in the Shrew, but that couldn’t be brought about for Miss Rehan doesn’t ever coach anyone. Miss Lawton said that Ada Rehan is a very impressive figure now, a majestic creature who has lived beyond her victories. She lives always in the past, & her outlook is a very pessimistic one, for she sees how dramatic art has been commercialized in these days, & that without money one might as well give up. Mary Lawton said that she was beautiful & like a woman at the head of a Salon, with the graciousness of manner, a beauty of gesture that one may read about, but rarely see. She sent sweet little messages to Mr. Clemens begging him not to work too hard, not to let the public demand of him beyond his strength. She couldn’t realize the fun he gets out of his talks for Y.M.C.A.’s & for the Freundschaft Clubs and their like. He loves it all. It’s a tonic to him to see the sea of faces before him & to hear the wave—the burst of adoring homage they lavish upon him.
We were alone for dinner, for Jean went up to dine with Mrs. Loomis & Mr. Clemens was very tired. He stayed downstairs only a little while, & for only the andante movement of the Schubert Unfinished Symphony—but as I went upstairs later he called me in to his room & said that he wanted me to telephone Mrs. Stanchfield in the morning to ask her to tell me the story of the Irish woman who lived at Elmira many years ago & whose illegitimate daughter was recognized among good people because the mother had built up for herself a character of great nobility by her work for & her devotion to that baby. Then deeply moved he told me the story of John O’Donnell that faithful Elmira coachman, but tomorrow Mrs. Stanchfield will doubtless tell the stories to me and Miss Hobby will shorthand them for she is to be there for that purpose. Mr. Clemens looked tired & depressed & beautiful as he lay there with the soft cloud of tobacco smoke from his cigar surrounding him & the carved columns of the beautiful old bed, a picture for always [MTP TS 46-49]. Note: The following to and from Grant, according to Lyon’s above entry were “fictitious.” Nevertheless,t they are given unique UCCL #’s by the MTP. In his A.D. Sam discussed these following 8 correspondences, done with the approval of Grant:
I shall be unspeakably sorry if the bronchitis catches me, for that will mean six weeks in bed– my annual tribute to it for the last sixteen years. I shall be sorry because I want to be in condition to appear at Carnegie Hall on the night of April 10 and take my permanent leave of the platform. I never intended to lecture for pay again, and I think I shall never lecture again where the audience has paid to get in. I shall go on talking, but it will be for fun, not money. I can get lots of it to do.
My first appearance before and audience was forty years ago, in San Francisco. If I live to take my farewell in Carnegie Hall on the night of the 10 , I shall see, and see constantly, what no one else in that house will see. I shall see two vast audiences–the San Francisco audience of forty years ago and the one which will be before me at that time. I shall see that early audience with as absolute distinctness in every detail as I see it at this moment, and as I shall see it while looking at the Carnegie audience. I am promising myself a great, a consuming pleasure, on that Carnegie night, and I hope that the bronchitis will leave me alone and let me enjoy it.
I was vaguely meditating a farewell stunt when General Fred Grant sent a gentleman over here a week ago to offer me a thousand dollars to deliver a talk for the benefit of the Robert Fulton Monument Association of which he is the President and I Vice-President. This was the very thing, and I accepted it at once, and said I would without delay write some telegrams and letters from Fred Grant to myself and sign his name to them, and in this way we could make a good advertisement and I could thus get the fact before the public that I was now delivering my last and final platform talk for money. I wrote the correspondence at once. General Grant approved it, and I here insert it [The following 8 notes, including to and from Hugh Gordon Miller, were included in this “fictitious” bunch] [MTA 1: 425-428 A.D. Mar. 20, 1906].
Frederick D. Grant’s telegram marked “Private and Confidential,” which prompted a telegram reply, then back and forth notes all on this day. Grant asked if Sam would consider, for $1,000, to speak at Carnegie Hall for the benefit of the Robert Fulton Memorial Assoc.
Sam telegraphed reply to Grant that he’d “be glad to do it, but I must stipulate that you keep the thousand dollars and add it to the Memorial Fund as my contribution.”
Grant’s short note suggesting Sam not contribute the full amount and asking, “Why should you do this work wholly without compensation?”
Sam replied again to Grant’s last note:
Because I stopped talking for pay a good many years ago, and I could not resume the habit now without a great deal of personal discomfort. I love to hear myself talk, because I get so much instruction and moral upheaval out of it, but I lose the bulk of this joy when I charge for it. Let the terms stand.
General, if I have your approval, I wish to use this good occasion to retire permanently from the platform.
Grant wrote back: “Certainly. But as an old friend, permit me to say, Don’t do that. Why should you?—you are not old yet.”
Sam then wrote a much longer and more humorous reply.
Dear General: / I mean the pay-platform; I shan’t retire from the gratis-platform until after I am dead and courtesy requires me to keep still and not disturb the others.
What shall I talk about? My idea is this: to instruct the audience about Robert Fulton, and…Tell me—was that his real name, or was it his nom de plume? However, never mind, it is not important—I can skip it, and the house will think I knew all about it, but forgot. Could you find out for me if he was one of the Signers of the Declaration, and which one? But if it is any trouble, let it alone, I can skip it. Was he out with Paul Jones? Will you ask Horace Porter? And ask him if he brought both of them home. These will be very interesting facts, if they can be established. But never mind, don’t trouble Porter, I can establish them anyway. The way I look at it, they are historical gems—gems of the very first water.
Well, that is my idea, as I have said: first, excite the audience with a spoonful of information about Fulton, then quiet them down with a barrel of illustration drawn by memory from my books—and if you don’t say anything the house will think they never heard it before, because people don’t really read your books, they only say they do, to keep you from feeling bad. Next, excite the house with another spoonful of Fultonian fact. Then tranquillize them again with another barrel of illustration. And so on and so on, all through the evening; and if you are discreet and don’t tell them the illustrations don’t illustrate anything, they won’t notice it and I will send them home as well informed about Robert Fulton as I am myself. Don’t you be afraid; I know all about audiences. They believe everything you say, except when you are telling the truth. / Truly yours, … P.S. Mark all the advertisements “Private and confidential,” otherwise the people will not read them [MTA 1: 425-428 A.D. Mar. 20, 1906].
Hugh Gordon Miller for the Fulton Monument Assoc. wrote to ask Sam how long he would talk in order for him to know when to call the carriages afterward. Sam replied “I cannot say for sure. It is my custom to keep on talking till I get the audience cowed. Sometimes it takes an hour and fifteen minutes, sometimes I can do it in an hour” [MTA 1: 428 A.D. Mar. 20, 1906]. Note: end of “fictitious” notes written by Sam and approved by Grant.
The New York Times, Mar. 12, “Carnegie Assaults the Spelling Book,” announced that Andrew Carnegie had led the formation of a new group on Mar. 11, The Simplified Spelling Board, of which Mark Twain was a member.
This morning I went in with some more left over mail. A letter from John D. Rockefeller S.S. [Sunday School] chairman or something, asking Mr. Clemens to address that class. He chuckled and said “I daren’t be with them, but I’d like it mighty well,” for he’d talk about Joseph of course. We had such a talk about the human race.
But the morning was so beautiful. Mr. Clemens went to work to write a fictitious correspondence between himself & Brig. Gen. Fred D. Grant which was to be submitted to H.G. Muller & Mr. Dearborn when they came this afternoon, & to be printed in the Carnegie Hall programs to excuse Mr. Clemens from any formal Fulton Memorial speech making. He read most of it aloud to me when I went in later & was joined there by Mr. Paine who came in to show Mr. Clemens the Tribune article which was in the Herald & Mr. Clemens excused us both so that he could continue his work & we came up to my rooms.
[continued on separate pieces of paper:]
Mr. Clemens didn’t come down to luncheon, he had a glass of milk & at 2:30 Mr. & Mrs. Gordon Miller came for the interview or rather Mr. Muller, but we all went up to the bedroom & Mr. Clemens read aloud that fictitious correspondence & the plans are made for the Carnegie Hall speech which is to be made some time in the week before “Holy Week”. Mr. Clemens remarked “Mrs. Miller is a pretty and very young woman. Too good for Miller.”
After they left Mr. Clemens went down to the living room where we had music until we were interrupted by a young Mr. Elsberg—the student who introduced everyone to Mr. Clemens at the Columbia Reception a fortnight or so ago. He proved a tiresome creature, & when A.C. Fahnestock came in to see Mr. Clemens that gave him the needed chance to leave the worrisome companionship of young Elsberg, & when Mr. F. left, Mr. Clemens slipped away & out into the fresh air for a stroll. Elsberg stayed on & on, but by & by Mary Lawton came in, handsome & fresh & full of Dr. Anspacher’s play of Tristan & Isolde which she has just been reading & which is admirably suited to her heroic personality, & which she is to have for her own if she can interest people in the rather costly presentation of it. Finally Elsberg left & then Miss Lawton told us of an interesting interview she had had the afternoon before with Ada Rehan, when she went to see her with a letter of introduction from Mr. Clemens. Miss Lawton was very anxious to have Ada Rehan coach her in the Shrew, but that couldn’t be brought about for Miss Rehan doesn’t ever coach anyone. Miss Lawton said that Ada Rehan is a very impressive figure now, a majestic creature who has lived beyond her victories. She lives always in the past, & her outlook is a very pessimistic one, for she sees how dramatic art has been commercialized in these days, & that without money one might as well give up. Mary Lawton said that she was beautiful & like a woman at the head of a Salon, with the graciousness of manner, a beauty of gesture that one may read about, but rarely see. She sent sweet little messages to Mr. Clemens begging him not to work too hard, not to let the public demand of him beyond his strength. She couldn’t realize the fun he gets out of his talks for Y.M.C.A.’s & for the Freundschaft Clubs and their like. He loves it all. It’s a tonic to him to see the sea of faces before him & to hear the wave—the burst of adoring homage they lavish upon him.
We were alone for dinner, for Jean went up to dine with Mrs. Loomis & Mr. Clemens was very tired. He stayed downstairs only a little while, & for only the andante movement of the Schubert Unfinished Symphony—but as I went upstairs later he called me in to his room & said that he wanted me to telephone Mrs. Stanchfield in the morning to ask her to tell me the story of the Irish woman who lived at Elmira many years ago & whose illegitimate daughter was recognized among good people because the mother had built up for herself a character of great nobility by her work for & her devotion to that baby. Then deeply moved he told me the story of John O’Donnell that faithful Elmira coachman, but tomorrow Mrs. Stanchfield will doubtless tell the stories to me and Miss Hobby will shorthand them for she is to be there for that purpose. Mr. Clemens looked tired & depressed & beautiful as he lay there with the soft cloud of tobacco smoke from his cigar surrounding him & the carved columns of the beautiful old bed, a picture for always [MTP TS 46-49]. Note: The following to and from Grant, according to Lyon’s above entry were “fictitious.” Nevertheless,t they are given unique UCCL #’s by the MTP. In his A.D. Sam discussed these following 8 correspondences, done with the approval of Grant:
I shall be unspeakably sorry if the bronchitis catches me, for that will mean six weeks in bed– my annual tribute to it for the last sixteen years. I shall be sorry because I want to be in condition to appear at Carnegie Hall on the night of April 10 and take my permanent leave of the platform. I never intended to lecture for pay again, and I think I shall never lecture again where the audience has paid to get in. I shall go on talking, but it will be for fun, not money. I can get lots of it to do.
My first appearance before and audience was forty years ago, in San Francisco. If I live to take my farewell in Carnegie Hall on the night of the 10 , I shall see, and see constantly, what no one else in that house will see. I shall see two vast audiences–the San Francisco audience of forty years ago and the one which will be before me at that time. I shall see that early audience with as absolute distinctness in every detail as I see it at this moment, and as I shall see it while looking at the Carnegie audience. I am promising myself a great, a consuming pleasure, on that Carnegie night, and I hope that the bronchitis will leave me alone and let me enjoy it.
I was vaguely meditating a farewell stunt when General Fred Grant sent a gentleman over here a week ago to offer me a thousand dollars to deliver a talk for the benefit of the Robert Fulton Monument Association of which he is the President and I Vice-President. This was the very thing, and I accepted it at once, and said I would without delay write some telegrams and letters from Fred Grant to myself and sign his name to them, and in this way we could make a good advertisement and I could thus get the fact before the public that I was now delivering my last and final platform talk for money. I wrote the correspondence at once. General Grant approved it, and I here insert it [The following 8 notes, including to and from Hugh Gordon Miller, were included in this “fictitious” bunch] [MTA 1: 425-428 A.D. Mar. 20, 1906].
Frederick D. Grant’s telegram marked “Private and Confidential,” which prompted a telegram reply, then back and forth notes all on this day. Grant asked if Sam would consider, for $1,000, to speak at Carnegie Hall for the benefit of the Robert Fulton Memorial Assoc.
Sam telegraphed reply to Grant that he’d “be glad to do it, but I must stipulate that you keep the thousand dollars and add it to the Memorial Fund as my contribution.”
Grant’s short note suggesting Sam not contribute the full amount and asking, “Why should you do this work wholly without compensation?”
Sam replied again to Grant’s last note:
Because I stopped talking for pay a good many years ago, and I could not resume the habit now without a great deal of personal discomfort. I love to hear myself talk, because I get so much instruction and moral upheaval out of it, but I lose the bulk of this joy when I charge for it. Let the terms stand.
General, if I have your approval, I wish to use this good occasion to retire permanently from the platform.
Grant wrote back: “Certainly. But as an old friend, permit me to say, Don’t do that. Why should you?—you are not old yet.”
Sam then wrote a much longer and more humorous reply.
Dear General: / I mean the pay-platform; I shan’t retire from the gratis-platform until after I am dead and courtesy requires me to keep still and not disturb the others.
What shall I talk about? My idea is this: to instruct the audience about Robert Fulton, and…Tell me—was that his real name, or was it his nom de plume? However, never mind, it is not important—I can skip it, and the house will think I knew all about it, but forgot. Could you find out for me if he was one of the Signers of the Declaration, and which one? But if it is any trouble, let it alone, I can skip it. Was he out with Paul Jones? Will you ask Horace Porter? And ask him if he brought both of them home. These will be very interesting facts, if they can be established. But never mind, don’t trouble Porter, I can establish them anyway. The way I look at it, they are historical gems—gems of the very first water.
Well, that is my idea, as I have said: first, excite the audience with a spoonful of information about Fulton, then quiet them down with a barrel of illustration drawn by memory from my books—and if you don’t say anything the house will think they never heard it before, because people don’t really read your books, they only say they do, to keep you from feeling bad. Next, excite the house with another spoonful of Fultonian fact. Then tranquillize them again with another barrel of illustration. And so on and so on, all through the evening; and if you are discreet and don’t tell them the illustrations don’t illustrate anything, they won’t notice it and I will send them home as well informed about Robert Fulton as I am myself. Don’t you be afraid; I know all about audiences. They believe everything you say, except when you are telling the truth. / Truly yours, … P.S. Mark all the advertisements “Private and confidential,” otherwise the people will not read them [MTA 1: 425-428 A.D. Mar. 20, 1906].
Hugh Gordon Miller for the Fulton Monument Assoc. wrote to ask Sam how long he would talk in order for him to know when to call the carriages afterward. Sam replied “I cannot say for sure. It is my custom to keep on talking till I get the audience cowed. Sometimes it takes an hour and fifteen minutes, sometimes I can do it in an hour” [MTA 1: 428 A.D. Mar. 20, 1906]. Note: end of “fictitious” notes written by Sam and approved by Grant.
The New York Times, Mar. 12, “Carnegie Assaults the Spelling Book,” announced that Andrew Carnegie had led the formation of a new group on Mar. 11, The Simplified Spelling Board, of which Mark Twain was a member.
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