June 29 Saturday – The London Times on July 1, ran “Mark Twain and the Savage Club” about the Lord Mayor of London giving a dinner with Mark Twain as guest, Saturday night (June 29) at the Savage Club. But first, Sam had to travel to Stratford for a luncheon and be trapped by Marie Corelli. Sam’s own words are the best account of the event, which he tried unsuccessfully to wriggle out of:
I met Marie Corelli at a small dinner party in Germany fifteen years ago [1891 or 2], and took a dislike to her at once—a dislike which expanded and hardened with each successive dinner- course until, when we parted, at last, the original mere dislike had grown into a very strong aversion. When I arrived in England, two months ago, I found a letter from her awaiting me at Brown’s Hotel. It was warm, affectionate, eloquent, persuasive; under its charm the aversion of fifteen years melted away and disappeared. It seemed to me that the aversion must have been falsely based; I thought I must certainly have been mistaken in the woman, and I felt a pang or two of remorse. I answered her letter at once—her love-letter I may say; answered it with a love-letter [not extant]. Her home is Shakespeare’s Stratford. She at once wrote again, urging me in the most beguiling language to stop there and lunch with her when I should be on my way to London, on the 29th . It looked like an easy matter; the travel connected with it could not amount to much, I supposed, therefore I accepted by return mail. I had now—not for the first time, nor the thousandth—trampled upon an old and wise and stern maxim of mine, to wit:
“Supposing is good, but finding out is better.” The supposing was finished, the letter was gone; it was now time to find out. Ashcroft examined the timetables and found that I would leave Oxford at eleven o’clock the 29th , leave Stratford at mid-afternoon, and not reach London until about half-past six. That is to say, I would be seven hours and a half in the air, so to speak, with no rest for the sole of my foot, and a speech at the Lord Mayor’s to follow! Necessarily I was aghast; I should probably arrive at the Lord Mayor’s banquet in a hearse. Ashcroft and I then began upon a hopeless task—to persuade a conscienceless fool to mercifully retire from a self- advertising scheme which was dear to her heart. She held her grip; any one who knew her could have told us she would. She came to Oxford on the 28th to make sure of her prey [See June 28 for this segment and description of Corelli].
So we [with Ashcroft] went to Stratford by rail, with a car-change or two, we not knowing that one could save time and fatigue by walking. She received us at Stratford station with her carriage, and was going to drive us to Shakespeare’s church, but I canceled that; she insisted, but I said that the day’s program was already generous enough in fatigues without adding another. She said there would be a crowd at the church to welcome me, and they would be greatly disappointed, but I was loaded to the chin with animosity, and childishly eager to be as unpleasant as possible, so I held my ground, particularly as I was well acquainted with Marie by this time and foresaw that if I went to the church I should find a trap arranged for a speech; my teeth were already loose from incessant speaking, and the very thought of adding a jabber at this time was a pain to me; besides, Marie, who never wastes an opportunity to advertise herself, would work the incident into the newspapers, and I who could not waste any possible opportunity of disobliging her, naturally made the best of this one.
She said she had been purchasing the house which the founder of Harvard College had once lived in, and was going to present it to America—another advertisement. She wanted to stop at that dwelling and show me over it, and she said there would be a crowd there. I said I didn’t want to see the damned house. I didn’t say it in those words, but in that vicious spirit, and she understood; even her horses understood, and were shocked, for I saw them shudder. She pleaded, and said we need not stop for more than a moment, but I knew the size of Marie’s moments, by now, when there was an advertisement to be had, and I declined. As we drove by I saw that the house and the sidewalk were full of people—which meant that Marie had arranged for another speech. However, we went by, bowing in response to the cheers, and presently reached Marie’s house, a very attractive and commodious English home. I said I was exceedingly tired, and would like to go immediately to a bedchamber and stretch out and get some rest, if only for fifteen minutes. She was voluble with tender sympathy, and said I should have my desire at once; but deftly steered me into the drawing-room and introduced me to her company. That being over, I begged leave to retire, but she wanted me to see her garden, and said it would only take a moment. We examined her garden, I praising it and damning it in the one breath—praising it with the mouth and damning it with the heart. Then she said there was another garden, and dragged me along to look at it. I was ready to drop with fatigue, but I praised and damned as before, and hoped I was through now and might be suffered to die in peace; but she beguiled me to a grilled iron gate and pulled me through it into a stretch of waste ground where stood fifty pupils of a military school, with their master at their head— arrangement for another advertisement. She asked me to make a little speech, and said the boys were expecting it. I complied briefly, shook hands with the master and talked with him a moment, then—well then we got back to the house. I got a quarter of an hour’s rest, then came down to the luncheon. Toward the end of it that implacable woman rose in her place, with a glass of champagne in her hand, and made a speech! With me for a text, of course. Another advertisement, you see—to be worked into the newspapers. When she had finished I said—
“I thank you very much”—
and sat still. This conduct of mine was compulsory, therefore not avoidable; if I had made a speech, courtesy and custom would have required me to construct it out of thanks and compliments, and there was not a rage of that kind of material lurking anywhere in my system [MTFWE 73-74; MTAD Aug. 16, 1907]. Note: Corelli’s initial letter waiting at the Hotel is not extant, but her follow up letters of June 20 and 23 are; see entries.
The London Times, July 1, 1907, reported some of Sam’s remarks to the military boys:
[Twain] “mentioned that he had once been a soldier for two weeks during the American Civil War, but his experiences were such that he did not care to remember them. Looking upon the budding warriors before him, he sincerely wished them a better liking for their lot than his had been and more of it. The mayor, he understood, had wished to award him civic honours, but his request was that his visit might be considered a personal one to Miss Corelli.”
Sam returned to London, arriving at 6:30 p.m. “in a pouring rain”. He went to bed for a few hours and later spoke at the Lord Mayor’s banquet at the Savage Club. He called that speech “a botch” due to the “most hateful day my seventy-two years have ever known” [MTFWE 76; MTAD Aug. 16, 1907].
In the evening Sam met at the Mansion House with “The Savages” of whom the Lord Mayor (Sir William Purdie Treloar) was a longtime member. The London Daily Chronicle called the banquet “a genial reunion” [July 1, p.5, “Lord Mayor and the Savages”]. The London Daily Mail revealed that “The assembly sprang to its feet and shouted its welcome…” [July 1, p.5, “Mark Twain’s Stories”]. The London Tribune reported “a touch of melancholy” in Sam’s address that it “was unlikely…that he would ever see England again” [July 1, p.6]. The London Daily Telegraph, July 1, p.13 had perhaps the most complete reporting of the event including Sam’s speech:
Mark Twain was the guest of the evening at a dinner given at the Mansion House on Saturday by the Lord Mayor to his fellow-members of the Savage Club. The gathering was a distinguished one, for in the company, which numbered close on 250, were “Savages” who had attained eminence in almost every profession. To the left of the Lord Mayor sat Mark Twain
[…].
Giving the loyal toasts, the Lord Mayor reminded the gathering that until his accession the King was an honorary “Savage,” and that they still had as honorary members the Prince of Wales and the Duke of Connaught.
Dr. [Fridtjof] Nansen, replying to the toast of the honorary life members, proposed by Mr. Mostyn Pigott [sic Piggott], remarked that he thought the club represented everything that made life worth living.
The Lord Mayor then called upon Mark Twain to respond. As he rose everyone instantly sprang up, and the cheering was loud and long. When “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow” had been sung, the applause was renewed. This was the second wildly enthusiastic reception given to the great humourist during the evening.
When the cheering had subsided, Mark Twain said: “I don’t make speeches—as I have no time to prepare them. I have been very busy since I landed in England trying to rehabilitate my character. I assure you that I am not as dishonest as I look. I began years and years go to frame for myself a moral constitution that would impress the world. I was not as honest then as I am now—but I was reasonably honest. Since that time I have done nothing that has called my honesty into question. I had once an experience which I have ever used as a warning for myself, and the result is I have climbed step by step to where I am now—or to where I was before the Ascot Cup was stolen” […See Fatout p. 564-5 for the Father Hawley story, and the christening story here] .
….
When the merriment which this anecdote provoked had ceased, Mark Twain continued in a serious strain. He felt that the nation had honoured him, and through him his country, and he was affected at saying farewell. He spoke with bowed head: “I am going from here in a week or two. I came to get an honorary degree, and I would have compassed seven seas for an honour like that. I cannot feel too grateful to the University and to Lord Curzon for conferring it upon me. I am sure my country must appreciate the honour, for of course it is first and foremost to my country. While I am in spirit young I am in flesh old, therefore it is unlikely I shall ever see England again, but I shall ever retain the recollection of what I have experienced here in the way of generous, most kindly welcomes. I took in the welcome you gave me when I entered the room, and I am duly grateful for it. And so I must say good-bye, and in saying good-bye I do so not with my lips, but with my whole heart.” (Loud cheers.)
The Planet (London), June 29, 1907, p.18, ran a feature article by Raymond Blathwayt, “Mark Twain on Humour.” This was a reminiscence by Blathwayt of an interview with Twain sixteen years before, or 1891, with Sam playing billiards and talking about humor. Thanks to Tom Tenney for this article. Also found in [Tenney: “A Reference Guide Fifth Annual Supplement,” American Literary Realism, Autumn 1981 p. 166].
London’s Saturday Review, p. 809-10 ran “Humorists Twain,” on the humor of Mark Twain and Augustine Birrell at the June 25 Pilgrim’s luncheon [Tenney: “A Reference Guide Seventh Annual Supplement,” American Literary Realism, Autumn 1983 p. 170].
Isabel Lyon’s journal: We sailed at 11, down Long Island Sound. The boat isn’t attractive. The decks are naturally small and so we are crowded with me who smoke and women with harsh strident voices and there is no peace—no peace. We have the chief engineer’s room, a cosy cabin, but no place to sit, and no bell. So I course up and down the corridors when we are in need of things and perhaps we find a steward—perhaps not. But I slept on deck from sheer exhaustion [MTP 75].
Frank Clements for Sunday School Union, with Children’s Holiday and Convalescent Homes at Bournemouth and Clacton-on-Sea, wrote asking for “an article from your pen on these Homes” that they might use to help raise funds [MTP].
David Gilmore wrote from Belfast a rather tongue-in-cheek scolding while praising of Sam’s works, specifically mentioning “Mrs McWilliams and the Lightening,” which he’d read five times. “Don’t imagine I read your works for pleasure—only to see the depths of your depravity I read them, and to find out how much superior morally I am to you, for one can’t see his own goodness without a glaring example of wickedness in another, and you are the prime, the absolute example…Yours in righteous indignation…” [MTP].
Blanche Lindsay (Lady Caroline Blanche Elizabeth Fitroy Lindsay) wrote from London sending two of her books, that he’d given her permission to do when they met at Arch-Deacon Wilberforce’s [MTP]. Note: See Gribben p.410, which lists her two books with inscriptions to Clemens, though these are not specified in her letter. Sam signed his copies of From a Venetian Balcony and Other Poems of Venice and the Near Lands (1904); and Godfrey’s Quest: A Fantastic Poem both by (Lady) Caroline Blanche Elizabeth (Fitzroy) Lindsay: “SL. Clemens / June, 1907. / London. / From Lady Lindsay” [Gribben 410-411].
Thomas Manden wrote from Bristol wishing Sam and family long prosperity [MTP].
Thomas Power O’Connor wrote on T.P.’s Weekly letterhead: “Don’t worry. I found the passage. It was as I suspected in ‘A Tramp Abroad’ . Its in the story of ‘The man who put up at Gadsby’s’ I hope I have not given you any trouble” [MTP]. Note: see June 20 for O’Connor’s question on the sketch he sought.
Mrs. Edmund Routledge wrote from Coombe Lodge: “I should so like to see you again. I am sorry you cannot manage to come to our garden party on the 6 th” Could Sam see him for a few minutes one morning next week? “Edmund was so good & true a friend, he was so fond of you. If you could spare his widow 5 minutes…it would be such a pleasure” [MTP].
Francis H. Skrine wrote again: “We were ‘desolated’ at finding your card, again, on our return from calling.If you had only sent us a post-card we would have stayed at home!” [MTP].
“Two sisters” middle aged, wrote from Southampton, “having but few pleasures in life; one of their greatest is to read anything written by Mark Twain” and “rejoice to know that he is so widely honored and beloved” [MTP].
Marianne Sullivan wrote from Hastings, England to ask if Sam “would contribute a book or photograph to aid the work of the Hastings…Branch of the ‘National Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Children’” [MTP]. Note: Ashcrpoft noted a photo was sent.
Henry W. Taunt wrote on Henry W. Taunt & Co., photographer, Oxford letterhead wrote that he’d stopped by this a.m. but Sam was gone to the station. Taunt wanted to show his photo taken of Twain “among the worthies going to the Theatre, with Kipling and others” [MTP].
Hallam Tennyson wrote from Aldworth, Haslemere: “We shall be delighted to welcome you here on July 5th ” [MTP].