September 21 Friday – In N.Y.C. Sam began a letter to Mary B. Rogers (Mrs. H.H. Rogers, Jr.) that he added to after reaching Norfolk, Conn. Sept. 22, where he finished it on Sept. 23. Daughter Clara was to make her American debut as a concert singer in Norfolk on Sept. 22.
[first page of letter written between typewritten lines of letter to SLC from W. M. Vanderweyde:]
At 3 p.m., I put Clara in her coupè, & started her for Norfolk, then I undressed & went to bed, bringing with me, from my handbag, Clara’s most recent letter, Jean’s most recent & yours. I was reading yours when the photographer entered the room. I dropped my hand & looked up, & he said: “There—don’t move—stay just as you are, the letter in your hand—a good pose! looks just as if you’d been interrupted, & wanted to use language!” I said, “Oh, no, nothing severer than ‘Don’t, Mary’”—& he laughed the laugh which a person laughs when he pretends to understand but know very well he doesn’t. He made a half a dozen negatives & said he would have couple of finished pictures awaiting me at the house on my return Sunday eve, from Norfolk. I want to trade you one for butter.
21st Sept.
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In Disgrace.
8 p.m. I was up & out again at 5 p.m. & called on a lady, & would have stayed to dinner, but didn’t, because a pair of distinguished strangers were coming, & this is no weather for exertion, mental or physical. It was providential—for my cravat wasn’t tied. I found it out when I got home. I feel very much disgraced. Still, it was not my fault: my pal was far away, Katy was gone to the station with Clara, there was no none to do the tieing, no one to stop me on my way out & remind me that I was irregular. Shall I cry?….I will think about it.
8.15. In bed, of course. Katy—bearing news—has come up to pack my luggage for the early train. When I was taking leave of Clara I asked her to let me lead her out before her audience. She said, no—“You’ll get all the welcome, & I none.” But on the way to the station, she told Katy she had changed her mind, & would like to be led out by her father. Mariechen, it’s butter from the butterless! & very gratifying. Next, there’ll be butter from Jean—yes, & even from you; I am not despairing [MTP].
Chapters from “My Autobiography—II” ran in the N.A.R.
William M. Vander Weyde, photographer in N.Y.C. wrote to ask if he might photograph Mark Twain for The Reader magazine. It would only take “about five minutes of your time.” He brought the note to Sam’s house on Fifth Ave. [MTP]. See next.
Sam inscribed a copy of HF to William M. Vander Weyde, photographer: “Taking the pledge will not make bad liquor good, but it will improve it. Truly Yours Mark Twain. Sept. 21/06. With compliments to Mr. W.M. Van der Wyde” [MTP].
Henry Watterson wrote on Louisville Courier-Journal letterhead to Sam.
Although I sent the enclosed [not extant] to George Harvey yesterday to be shown to you, I send it direct in order to say that the more I think about its suggestion the more it impresses me. Is it true, as I have heard, that you and Sydney Rosenfeld have collaborated on a play on the “Sellers Motif”? If not, have you ever seriously thought about it? My idea is a new play altogether written around the old plot, but brought down to date. Undoubtedly Godwin is the man to play the part.
If you have the address of either of Jim Lampton’s daughters, send it to me. I am afraid that one of them, who is the preacher’s wife and lives in Dallas, Tex. Is a little out of humor with me. Anyhow I want them to see what I have said about their dear old dad.
Don’t let them work you too much, either speaking or writing. Your place in history is made, your fame secured, and I take it you have money enough about your clothes to pay for drinks. That George Harvey is a castiron devil of a hustler and he will never reflect that you are not as young as you used to be.
No, nor Howells neither; to whom my cordial regards [MTP].