May 3 Thursday – In the wee hours burglars entered the Clemens Farmington St. home and made off with a few misc. articles. In his autobiographical dictation some twenty years later, Sam mistakenly remembered this event as “about two o’clock one black and dreary March morning,” and related a humorous conversation with Livy in the upstairs bedroom while the thief rummaged the house [MTA 78]. The May 4, 1888 issue of the Hartford Courant places this date in “Burglars Again Operate,” p.8, and includes reports of theft of Aaron Kenny’s and Major E.V. Preston’s nearby homes (not included):

BURGLARS AGAIN OPERATE

 — — — —

THREE HILL RESIDENCES ENTERED

 — — — —

A Large Amount of Property Stolen —

Mark Twain Among the Victims.

Mr. S.L. Clemens (“Mark Twain”) failed to find his dress shoes yesterday morning [May 3] when he was dressing for a journey. Investigation showed that two overcoats, a silk umbrella, and other portable property had vanished. An open window at the south end of the house, outside of which stood a packing-box, indicated the manner in which the thieves had effected an entrance.

      …Following is an inventory of the property taken, as reported to the police: —  …

      From Mark Twain, two overcoats, a silk umbrella, a pair of dress shoes, 4 napkin rings, an ivory paper cutter and a pair of silver tongs. The amount of valuable bric-a-brac, etc., left behind here is simply astounding, and seems to indicate that the marauders were but poor appraisers of the value of articles.

…  Tracks found in the soft earth in the vicinity prove that there were two of the thieves, and that they both had feet rather above the average size. …

      It is reported that during the last two or three days two tramps have loitered around the scene of the burglaries and that they made application for food at Mr. Clemens’s Wednesday evening.

Sam’s account of the event from MTA 78-9:

It [burglar alarm] let fly about two o’clock one black and dreary March [May] morning, and I turned out promptly, because I knew that it was not fooling, this time. The bathroom door was on my side of the bed. I stepped in there, turned up the gas, looked at the annunciator, turned off the alarm — so far as the door indicated was concerned — thus stopping the racket. Then I came back to bed.

      Mrs. Clemens said, “What was it?”

      I said, “It was the cellar door.”

      She said, “Was it a burglar, do you think?”

      “Yes,” I said, “of course it was. Do you suppose it was a Sunday-school superintendent?”

      She said, “What do you suppose he wants?”

      I said: “I suppose he wants jewelry, but he is not acquainted with the house and he thinks it is in the cellar. I don’t like to disappoint a burglar whom I am not acquainted with and who has done me no harm, but if he had had common sagacity enough to inquire, I could have told him we kept nothing down there but coal and vegetables. Still, it may be that he is acquainted with this place and that what he really wants is coal and vegetables. On the whole, I think it is vegetables he is after.”

      She said, “Are you going down to see?”

      “No,” I said; “I could not be of any assistance. Let him select for himself.”

      Then she said, “But suppose he comes up to the ground floor!”

      I said: “That’s all right. We shall know it the minute he opens a door on that floor. It will set off the alarm.”

      Just then the terrific buzzing broke out again. I said: “He has arrived. I told you he would. I know all about burglars and their ways. They are systematic people.”

      I went into the bathroom to see if I was right, and I was. I shut off the dining-room and stopped the buzzing and came back to bed. My wife said:

      “What do you suppose he is after now?”

      I said: “I think he has got all the vegetables he wants and is coming up for napkin rings and odds and ends for the wife and the children. They all have families — burglars have — and they are always thoughtful of them…

      We went to sleep, and at a quarter before eight in the morning I was out, and hurrying, for I was to take the 8:29 train for New York. I found the gas burning brightly — full head — all over the first floor. My new overcoat was gone; my old umbrella was gone; my new patent-leather shoes, which I had never worn, were gone. The large window which opened into the ombra at the rear of the house was standing wide. I passed out through it and tracked him without difficulty, because he had blazed his progress with imitation-silver napkin rings and my umbrella, and various other things which he had disapproved of; and I went back in triumph and proved to my wife that he was a disappointed burglar. I had suspected he would be, from the start, and from his not coming up to our floor to get human beings.

Note: from the Courant article and this account it is clear that Sam either embroidered the account or confused it with another occasion. He did not go to New York the next morning, for example, but the items he relates match the newspaper accounts. Thanks to Wayne Gannaway for pointing me to the Courant article, and for his article in The Mark Twain Annual, 2007 No. 5, p.27-41

Orion Clemens wrote to Sam, sorry to hear through Mrs. Langdon to Mollie that Livy had been very sick. Orion offered advice on Webster & Co.’s lawsuit [MTP].

Eugene Meyer, N.Y. Piano teacher, receipted $60 for “piano lessons from Feb 23rd until May the 3rd” [MTP].