May 13 Saturday – At the Hotel Krantz in Vienna, Austria, Sam finished his May 12 letter to William Dean Howells. Livy and Theodor Leschetizky and an “English lady” chaperoned a group of 24 young people to Semmering, a lower-Austrian town famous for its skiing. Sam wrote it took three hours each way and he had little interest in going. During the letter writing someone telephoned him from Semmering, but he directed that a message be taken—he supposed the message was how lovely it was in Semmering and that an outbound train would leave in a half hour should he want to take it. He also included this episode from earlier in the day:

I was out walking at noon today, in splendid summer weather, & came dreaming around the corner of a palace, & found myself fenced off by a long leather strap; I traced the strap leftward & found a sweet young lady holding the end of it; I traced it to starboard, then, & found a prodigious dog hitched to that end. He probably thought it was his palace, for he had one leg up & was washing it down. I was embarrassed, but those others were not. I waited a second or two, not knowing just what to do, then backed away & pulled out around the Fraulein & departed. She & the string were barring the whole sidewalk. I went a little piece, then stopped to observe. That dog was loaded for bear; & before he had accomplished his relief, a woman, a boy, then a man, then another man, had all been obliged to turn out & deploy around the young lady. They ought to water that dog at home. It would have made a curious picture if I had had a Kodak & courage enough to use it. I felt a good deal of resentment against that girl for making me do all the blushing & embarrassing by myself, there before the public, when by rights it was her place to do it [MTHL 2: 694-9].

Possibly Sam had begun another version of The Mysterious Stranger; he closed the long letter, heading the last section “6 p.m.”

For several years I have been intending to stop writing for print as soon as I could afford it. At last I can afford it, & have put the pot-boiler pen away. What I have been wanting was a chance to write a book without reserves—a book which should take account of no one’s feelings, no one’s prejudices, opinions, beliefs, hopes, illusions, delusions; a book which should say my say, right out of my heart, in the plainest language & without a limitation of any sort. I judged that that would be an unimaginable luxury, heaven on earth. There was no condition but one under which the writing of such a book could be possible; only one—the consciousness that it would not see print.

It is under way, now, & it is a luxury! an intellectual drunk. Twice I didn’t start it right; & got pretty far in, both times, before I found it out. But I am sure it is started right this time. It is in tale-form. I believe I can make it tell what I think of Man, & how he is constructed, & what a shabby poor ridiculous thing he is, & how mistaken he is in his estimate of his character & powers & qualities & his place among the animals.

So far, I think I am succeeding. I let the madam into the secret day before yesterday, & locked the doors & read to her the opening chapters. She said—

“It is perfectly horrible—and perfectly beautiful!” [MTHL 2: 694-9].

Sam also wrote to his nephew, Samuel E. Moffett in N.Y.C., writing below the Apr. 29 letter from Wilfred R. Hollister and R. Harry Norman, which asked for contacts who might provide biographical information of “unpublished incidents” of Sam’s life. Would Moffett answer them and explain that his new biographical sketch (for the Uniform Edition) “will be the only authorised one, & refer him to that, all others being spurious”? [MTP]. Note: The 1900 Five Famous Missourians, included p. 9-86 on Mark Twain; it is a folksy narrative without citation or much to recommend; some errors noted.