 Section 18 of Mark Twain and the New York Times, Part 2, 1880–1889. Mark Twain and the New York Times, Part 2, Section 18, December 23, 1882. On Plymouth Rock Again. On Plymouth Rock Again. The pilgrim's sons talking of their forefathers. The New England men in New York congratulating themselves and the country on their ancestors' virtues and the resultant blessings. The 77th annual dinner of the New England Society of New York was given at Delmonico's last evening, and about 250 gentlemen, members of the society and their friends, braved the inclement weather and celebrated the 262nd anniversary of the landing of the pilgrims by attending the banquet. The banquet hall was decorated simply with American flags and streamers, and the shields of the thirteen original states were scattered in convenient positions about the walls. The raised table for the officers and distinguished guests extended along the entire western end of the room, and below this five long tables stretched down the hall. These, however, were found to be insufficient to accommodate the large number of guests, and one of the parlors was transformed into a dining-room in which covers were laid for about twenty-five of the guests. A string band enlivened the dinner with popular music. Josiah M. Fisk, president of the society, presided at the dinner, supported on the left by General U.S. Grant and on the right by Joseph S. Chote. The other guests at the principal table were Senator Miller of California, Governor John D. Long of Massachusetts, General Horace Porter, Samuel L. Clemens, Mark Twain, the Reverend J. R. Paxton, Commodore Upsher of the Brooklyn Navy Yard, Colonel W. T. Villas of Madison, Wisconsin, Governor Hobart V. Bigelow of Connecticut, Mayor Grace, Benjamin D. Silliman, president of the Brooklyn New England Society, Judge Abram R. Lawrence, John C. M. DePew, F. W. J. Hurst, and the Reverend Arthur Brooks. Among the guests at the other tables were Augustus G. Payne, Isaac H. Bailey, D. F. Appleton, Dexter A. Hawkins, Randolph W. Townsend, Gardner R. Colby, Marshall Jewel, Mar-Vell W. Cooper, Elihu Root, W. W. Niles, Frederick A. Potts, William Dowd, Stuart L. Woodford, Ian Taylor, Carlisle Norwood Jr., Cornelius M. Bless, J. Pierpont Morgan, Noah Brooks, Frederick Billings, Professor Silly of Exeter, New Hampshire, William A. Wielach, Judge Horace Russell, Samuel Shetter, Lorenzo G. Woodhouse, W. B. Dinsmore, and Albin P. Mann. It was nearly nine o'clock before the descendants of the pilgrims concluded the frugal repast which Delmonico had provided for them, and when cigars were lighted, the President, Josiah M. Fisk, called the assembly to order, the harm of conversation ceased, and amid profound silence the Reverend Arthur Brooks returned thanks. President Fisk then opened a literary portion of the feast by a brief address which was applauded to the echo. Mr. Fisk said, We have assembled this evening to celebrate the 77th anniversary of our society, one so highly favored in having so many of New England's noblest sons among its members. I know you will join me in welcoming to this banquet these distinguished and honored guests from sister states and sister societies who commemorate with us the 262nd anniversary of the landing of the pilgrims. We meet under most happy auspices our land overflowing with plenty and at peace with all the world. Our relations with sister societies are still as ever of a most cordial character. Through the generous contributions of our members instigated by the zealous efforts of ex-president Appleton, our prospects are bright for the erection and unveiling within a year of the pilgrim statue in an appropriate place in Central Park to command, we hope, the admiration and homage of all visitors. Allow me a word at this time in behalf of one of the needs of the society. It is a New England hall in this city, one adapted to all its wants. I hope some descendants of the pilgrims will be inspired to inaugurate and carry to a successful termination of this work. Need I say that while we are grateful for all our blessings, let us not forget those of our number who have passed away. And now, gentlemen, I shall leave it to the honored speakers of the evening to carry you back to Plymouth Rock and the days of your forefathers, and before doing so allow me to thank you most sincerely for the honor conferred upon me in re-electing me, your president, during my absence from the country, and to express my regrets that I have so poorly fulfilled the duties incumbent upon me. Woman, God bless her. The next toast on the list was Woman, God bless her, and this was responded to by Mark Twain in an address which kept the tables in a roar for a quarter of an hour. The speaker brought his words out in an indescribable drawl, and puffed a cloud of smoke from his cigar between every two sentences. He said, The toast includes the sex. Universally, it is to woman, comprehensively, wheresoever she may be found. Let us consider her ways. First comes the matter of dress. This is a most important consideration in a subject of this nature, and must be disposed of before we can intelligently proceed to examine the profounder depths of the theme. For text let us take the dress of two antipodal types, the savage woman of Central Africa, and the cultivated daughter of our high modern civilization. Among the fangs a great Negro tribe, a woman when dressed for home, or to go to market, or go out calling, does not wear anything at all but just her complexion. That is all. That is her entire outfit. It is the lightest costume in the world, but is made of the darkest material. It has often been mistaken for mourning. It is the trimmest and neatest and gracefulest costume that is now in fashion. It wears well, is fast colors, doesn't show dirt. You don't have to send it downtown to wash, and have some of it come back scorched with the flat iron, and some of it with the buttons ironed off, and some of it petrified with starch, and some of it chewed by the calf, and some of it rotted with acids, and some of it exchanged for other customers' things that haven't any virtue but holiness, and ten-twelfths of the pieces overcharged for, and the rest of the dozen mislaid, and it always fits. It is the perfection of a fit, and it is the handiest dress in the whole realm of fashion. It is always ready, always done up. When you call on a fan-lady and send up your card, the hired girl never says, Please take a seat, madam is dressing, she will be down in three-quarters of an hour. No, madam is always dressed, always ready to receive. And before you can get the doormat before your eyes, she is in your midst. Then again the fan-ladies don't go to church to see what each other has got on, and they don't go back home and describe it and slander it. Such is the dark child of savagery as to every day toilet, and thus curiously enough she finds a point of contact with the fair daughter of nation and high fashion, who often has nothing to wear, and thus these widely separated types of the sex meet upon common ground. Yes, such is the fang woman as she appears in her simple, ostentatious and everyday toilet. But on state occasions she is more dressy. At a banquet she wears bracelets. At a lecture she wears earrings and a belt. At a ball she wears stockings. And with true feminine funness for display she wears them on her arms. At a funeral she wears a jacket of tar and ashes. At a wedding the bride who can afford it puts on pantaloons. Thus the dark child of savagery and the fair daughter of civilization meet once more upon common ground, and these two touches of nature make their whole world kin. Now we will consider the dress of our other type. A large part of the daughter of civilization is her dress as it should be. Some civilized women would lose half their charm without dress, and some would lose all of it. The daughter of modern civilization, dressed at her utmost best, is a morsel of exquisite and beautiful art and expense. All the lands, all the climbs, and all the arts are laid under tribute to furnish her forth. Her linen is from Belfast. Her robe is from Paris. Her lace is from Venice or Spain or France. Her feathers are from the remote regions of southern Africa. Her furs from the remote home of the iceberg and the aurora. Her fan from Japan. Her diamonds from Brazil. Her bracelets from California. Her pearls from Ceylon. Her cameos from Rome. She has gems and trinkets from buried Pompeii and others that graced cummly Egyptian forms that have been dust and ashes now for forty centuries. Her watch is from Geneva. Her card case is from China. Her hair is from... from... I don't know where her hair is from. I never could find out. That is, her other hair. Her public hair. Her Sunday hair. I don't mean the hair she goes to bed with. Why, you ought to know the hair I mean. It's that thing which she calls a switch. Of which resembles a switch as much as it does a brick bat or a shotgun or any other thing which you correct people with. It's that thing which she twists and then coils round and round her head beehive fashion and then tucks the end in under the hive and harpoons it with a hairpin. And that reminds me of a trifle. Any time you want to you can glance around the carpet of a Pullman car and go and pick up a hairpin. But not to save our life can you get any woman in that car to acknowledge that hairpin. She will deny that hairpin before a hundred witnesses. I have stupidly got into more trouble and more hot water trying to hunt up the owner of a hairpin in a Pullman car than by any other indiscretion of my life. Well, you see what the daughter of civilization is when she is dressed and you have seen what the daughter of savagery is when she isn't. Such is woman as to costume. I come now to consider her in her higher and nobler aspects as mother, wife, widow, grass widow, mother in law, hired girl, telegraph operator, telephone hallower, queen, book agent, wet nurse, stepmother, boss, professional fat woman, professional double headed woman, professional beauty and so forth and so on. We will simply discuss these few. Let the rest of the sex tarry in Jericho until we come again. First in the list of right and first in our gratitude come a woman who, why dear me I've been talking three quarters of an hour. I beg a thousand pardons, but you see yourselves I had a large contract. I have accomplished something anyway. I have introduced my subject and if I had until next forefather's day I am satisfied that I could discuss it adequately and appreciatively as a so gracious and noble theme deserves. But as the matter stands now let us finish as we began and say without jesting but with all sincerity woman God bless her. End of section 18 December 23 1882 on Plymouth Rock again read by John Greenman. Section 19 of Mark Twain in the New York Times part 2 1880 to 1889. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Mark Twain in the New York Times part 2 section 19 December 25 1882. Trollope and Mark Twain by Joaquin Miller read by John Greenman. Trollope and Mark Twain unavailingly seeking information about Mustang riding Joaquin Miller in the Somerville, New Jersey Unionist. Pardon one digression from New York as I must say one word respecting a friend just departed Anthony Trollope. A strong man was he with a great good human heart. A power has gone out from London a grand steady and sterling nature and honest in all he did and said. There is little of the flash and sensation order of things to fascinate and fill the journals today and so it is this substantial pillar which once bore more of London on its shoulders than most men know or London is willing to concede has passed away and little is said. Strange he should have died so sudden and so soon for physically he was the largest and most powerful of a large and powerful race of men. He always visited me on horseback in dense old London, the east side and most humble quarter of the city and mounted on a horse as large and powerful proportionately as himself he was the marvel of the denizens as he slowly rode through the crowded and dingy streets. He was very partial to his saddle and had spent years on horseback in Australia where his sons or most of them are settled and are now engaged in raising sheep far in the interior. He had rode all over South America and Mexico and while I think he had little admiration for my writings he liked my preference for the saddle and we often rode together. He did not like my big showy Mexican saddle however and on my insisting on its superior advantages he arranged that I should come to his country place where he would furnish the horses and we could put the qualities of our respective saddles to the test. I remember at a dinner at the Garrick Club which he had given to Mark Twain and myself he rode his favorite hobby, the saddle almost to the verge of anger. You see, Mark Twain was then lecturing or about to lecture on riding the Mustang. Trollope began to talk riding with the soup and endeavored hard to draw the great humorist out and get the advantage of his long experience with the Mustang in the far west but Mark was silent very thoughtful. He essayed once or twice to talk about Jerusalem and even made some faint illusions to the old masters. He went off eloquently on the weather two or three times but he left the discussion of the question entirely to Trollope and myself greatly to the disappointment of the former. After dinner as we sauntered back to Mark's hotel, the Edwards, St. George's Square, where he was living in great state on the same floor with Disraeli, Mark Twain pulled me up suddenly under a lamp-post and said in his dry, slow and inimitable way, Look here, old boy, now why didn't you help me out of that Hoth business, eh? Didn't know you wanted any help, Mark? Well, now, didn't you see me trying to talk about Jerusalem and the weather and the state of future punishments? Why, look here, and he pulled out of his vest pocket a short dozen of little bits of pasteboard. See them? Tickets for that riding school in Queen Street down by Hyde Park. I bought a dozen of them the other day. Have eleven left. Take them. Take them all. I'll never go back there as long as I live. I've used one. I got on one of the old mayors there and she scraped me off, and I won't go back there no more. What, said I, don't you know how to ride? Never was on a horse before, and never will be again. But you see, as I am lecturing on how to ride a Mustang, I thought I ought to know something about horses. But I know enough. But, said I, as we parted, you don't mean to tell me you know nothing about horses? Nothing. Nothing at all, and don't want to. You see, I'm a steamboat man. End of Section 19, Trollop and Mark Twain by Joaquin Miller, read by John Greenman. Section 20 of Mark Twain in the New York Times, Part 2, 1880-1889. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Mark Twain in the New York Times, Part 2, Section 20, January 10, 1883. Mark Twain Loses a Suit, read by John Greenman. Mark Twain Loses a Suit, Chicago, January 9. Sometimes since Samuel L. Clemens brought suit in the United States Court against Belford, Clark, and company publishers to restrain them from republishing his works. It appeared in evidence that the books republished were not copyrighted, but Clemens claimed his pseudonym of Mark Twain as a trademark. The Court, in its decision yesterday, held that non-deplume could not be construed as trademarks, and that his failure to copyright left his works open to republication by anyone. End of Section 20, January 10, 1883, Mark Twain Loses a Suit, read by John Greenman. Section 21 of Mark Twain in the New York Times, Part 2, 1880-1889. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Mark Twain in the New York Times, Part 2, Section 21, March 11, 1883. Judge Clemens, read by John Greenman. Judge Clemens. How Mark Twain's father commands silence in the courtroom. Communication to the St. Louis Republican. In 1843, at Hannibal, Missouri, John Marshall Clemens, the father of Samuel L. Clemens, Mark Twain, filled the ancient and honorable office known as Justice of the Peace. He was a stern, unbending man of splendid common sense, and was indeed the autocrat of the little dingy room on Bird Street, where he held his court, meted out justice and general satisfaction to litigants, commanded peace, and preserved order as best he could in the village. This room fairly indicated the rustic simplicity of the people and the frugal and careful manner in which Judge Clemens lived and transacted business. Its furniture consisted of a dry goods box, which served the double purpose of a desk for the judge and table for the lawyers, three or four rude stools, and a punchin' bench for the jury. And here, on court days, when the judge climbed upon his three-legged stool, wrapped on the box with his knuckles and demanded silence in the court, it was fully expected that silence would reign supreme. As a general thing, the rough and ready characters who had lounged in to see the wheels of justice move bowed submissively to the mandates of the judge and observed the utmost respect for his honour. Alan B. McDonald, an overbearing, turbulent, and quarrelsome man, was an exception, and many a time he had violated the rules and been rebuked by the court. Late in the fall of 1843 the case of Alan B. McDonald against Jacob Smith was on trial. Judge Clemens was presiding with his usual dignity, and the courtroom was filled with witnesses and friends of the parties to the suit. The honourable RF Lakenan, still living and in political life, represented the plaintiff, and old horse Alan, now dead, was counsel for defendant. Frank Snyder, a peaceable citizen, had given his testimony in favour of defendant Smith and resumed his seat, when McDonald, with an exasperating air, made a face at him. As quick as thought Snyder whipped out an old pepper-box revolver and emptied every barrel at McDonald, slightly grazing Mac's head with one shot, hurting no one else, but filling the room with smoke and consternation. In the confusion that followed Judge Clemens, doubtless remembering McDonald's many mean tricks, instantly concluded that he was the aggressor, and gathering up a hammer that lay nearby, he dealt him a blow that sent him senseless and quivering to the floor. The irate court was complete master of the situation. Judge Clemens was a kind-hearted man and was mortified when he learned that he had struck the wrong fellow, but the oldest inhabitants never heard him admit that it was a lick, a miss. He held his office for years afterward, and it is not recorded where any other disturbance ever occurred in his courtroom. He died at a ripe old age, honoured and respected by all who knew him, and now sleeps at a beautiful spot in Mount Olivet Cemetery, near Hannibal, a site selected and beautified by his son Mark Twain. The grave is marked by a pretty and tasteful monument, and many a traveller goes out of his way to view the last resting place of Judge Clemens, the father of the noted humorist. March 11, 1883. Judge Clemens. Read by John Greenman. Section 22 of Mark Twain in the New York Times, Part 2, 1880-1889. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Mark Twain in the New York Times, Part 2, Section 22. May 30, 1883. Mark Twain's Copyright Struggles. Read by John Greenman. Mark Twain's Copyright Struggles. Ottawa, May 29. For several days past, Mr. Samuel L. Clemens, Mark Twain, has been a guest at the Government House. He has succeeded in securing a Canadian copyright for his last work, Life on the Mississippi. His failure to secure Canadian copyright last year for his prince and pauper probably led him to take another course this time, which would be more likely to secure him the protection he desired. In the first instance he brought out his new work in England, which entitled him to British copyright. This only gave him partial protection in the British colonies, as any foreign publisher could introduce his work in Canada by paying him a royalty of twelve and a half percent on the value of each volume. Not satisfied with this and being determined that his works should be copyrighted in Canada, he transferred his work to his English publisher, Andrew Chateau of London, who applied for and was granted Dominion Copyright on May 15. End of Section 22, May 30, 1883. Mark Twain's Copyright Struggles. Read by John Greenman. Section 23 of Mark Twain in the New York Times. Part 2, 1880 to 1889. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Mark Twain in the New York Times. Part 2, Section 23. June 10, 1883. Mark Twain, Excited. Read by John Greenman. Mark Twain, Excited. On seeing the name of Captain C. C. Duncan in print. Amid the verter of his Hartford home, he relates some facts in the career of a proud father of three sons. Hartford, Connecticut, June 9. With his strawberries and cream before him and his New York Times in his hand, Mark Twain sat upon the portico of his handsome home this morning and made merry. He had chanced upon an item concerning an old acquaintance, Captain C. C. Duncan, New York's shipping commissioner, and the father of the three illustrious young men whose powers of absorbing the funds of the United States government are, as far as is now known, illimitable. Well, well, well, so the old man's in hot water, says the author of Roughing It and Tom Sawyer, with a mock expression of pity on his face as he pushed aside his strawberries. Poor devil, I should think that after a while he'd conclude to put a little genius into his rascality and try to hoodwink the public as his little game of robbery goes on. It don't become muscoundrel to be an ass. The combination always makes a mix of things, and if Duncan will persist in his wicked ways, somebody ought to have a guardian appointed for him, a guardian with sense enough to throw a little gauze over the work of the gauge. He is still shipping commissioner, is he? And his dear noble boys surround him in his old age, supporting his steps, lightening his cares, and helping him to bankrupt the government. Let us see what does this item say. A bad man named Root, presuming on his position as a United States district attorney, is making war on the magnificent patriot, and Root don't like the way in which the funds of the shipping commission are dispersed. He thinks it isn't just the thing for the gallant Duncan, after gobbling five thousand dollars for personal salary, to give a half dollar or so to an errand boy and then cut the surplus into three equal parts and to each of the signs of the house of Duncan give an equal and exact third. A hard man to please, is this district attorney Root. He may bless his stars and fervently congratulate the government that Captain C. C. Duncan has not created a deficit just to give his sons even money, say, three thousand six hundred and fifty dollars instead of three thousand six hundred and forty eight dollars and thirty cents, as is the case. I see the Times says that just about two thousand dollars has been turned over to the government's treasury by Captain C. C. Duncan during the ten years he has been shipping commissioner. There must be some mistake here if a single penny in any year or by any means has fallen into the treasury. A doleful error has occurred. Old Duncan never intended it. And I'll wager this new white duck suit I put on this morning that when the old man read the Times this morning and saw that a little cash had glided out of his grip, he hurried downtown to cook up some job by which he could make the hoggish government hand that cash back again. So he and his three sons appropriated to themselves fifteen thousand nine hundred and forty two dollars and ninety cents of the government's funds for the work they professed to have done last year. That's monstrous. There's no joke in that. It's scoundrel-y. It's nauseating, bald, bare-faced robbery. But it's Duncan through and through. Why, my boy, if I wanted to get rich rapidly the one contract I'd most delight in making would be to hire one hundred and fifty Duncan families by the year and get just half of this fifteen thousand nine hundred forty four dollars and ninety cents which Captain C.C. and his noble offspring take. And, as I calculated, my profits would be precisely the whole amount the government gave me if I hired them at their true value for a Duncan of the C.C. stripe is worthless absolutely. Multiply him by one hundred and fifty or one hundred and fifty times one hundred and fifty it will make no difference. Enough brains could not be found in a C.C. Duncan family to run the kitchen of a sixth-ward restaurant, respectively. Brains never were there. Brains could not be induced to enter there. It is the old story of water declining to climb uphill. As to the matter of honesty that always was an absent quality with the old man where the honesty ought to have been in his makeup an inscrutable providence provided a vacuum walled in by hypocrisy and the meanest of meanness. It has been my honor to know the old man for a number of years, longer, much longer than has been to my profit perhaps. The honor fell to me way back in 1867 when I got my text for Innocence Abroad in his gorgeous scheme of an excursion to the Holy Land, Egypt, the Crimea, Greece, and intermediate points of interest. People who have read my tract will remember that I was one of the victims of that excursion, and they may remember too how I endeavored to immortalize the fair name of Duncan, though through reverence to truth I was obliged faithfully to note some things which a narrow-minded world chose to set not down to the glory and honor of the man who led New York Harbor a captain and developed within twenty-four hours into the ship's head waiter. Queer things happened on that excursion. I performed but my duty to the world and coming generations when I narrated those happenings in words of soberness and truth, but Captain C. C. Duncan felt aggrieved. For years he kept his galled feelings pent up, but finally the time came when somebody advised him to enter the lecture field. He was going to explain all about the Holy Land as he sought. He departed a little from his program and explained all about me as he did not see me. I smiled and said nothing for a time, and finally only wasted a little ink for a New York newspaper after long and urgent solicitation. I don't think Captain C. C. Duncan was any happier when I got through with him than he was before I began. I put on parade one or two of his little frauds that had not been seen hitherto. I called attention to his advertisements that on his big excursion Henry Ward Beecher, General Sherman, Maggie Mitchell, and other celebrities were to be among the passengers, how none of them appeared, how none of them, I guess, ever had any thought of making the trip. I showed up a few other of his thinly disguised frauds and exposed him pretty thoroughly as an old piece of animated flatulence. To excruate the old rascal began to give me fun. I didn't lack for ammunition. What I did not have in stock came to hand readily. I discovered that the world was fairly jammed with folks who had dealt with C. C. and sadly regretted it. A reputable New York law firm supplied me with a big batch of indictments against the Humbug Mariner. The papers and documents they gave to support their charges were absolutely convincing. There was a long list of offenses. For instance, it was shown that on December 18, 1867, Duncan filed a petition in bankruptcy submitting his schedule of liabilities amounting to $166,000, and that among these debts, as sworn by himself, was one of $5,265.28 to J. G. Richardson of Liverpool, England. This was the proceeds of a consignment of canvas sold by him on account of Richardson and retained by him. He was also obliged to show an item of $634.42 for money collected by Duncan for haul, cornish and company, and not paid over to them. Of course, this was rank dishonesty. There were other equally questionable items in the schedule, but this was not all. But bah! it disgusts me to recite this fellow's manifold offenses. A half-dozen years ago I read a paragraph in the New York Times chronicling some of Duncan's wickedness and what I wrote for publication then I reiterate now. I have known and observed Duncan for years, and I think I have reason for believing him wholly without principle, without moral sense, without honour of any kind. I think I am justified in believing that he is cruel enough and heartless enough to rob any sailor or sailor's widow or orphan when he can get his clutches upon. And I know him to be coward enough. I know him to be a canting hypocrite, filled to the chin with sham godliness and forever oozing and dripping false piety and phariseical prayers. I know his word to be worthless. It is a shame and a disgrace to the civil service that such a man was permitted to work himself into an office of trust and responsibility. And I repeat today what I said then, that the act creating the shipping commission concocted by himself for his own profit was simply and purely an act to create a pirate, a pirate that has flourished and still flourishes. I tell you, my boy, Judas Iscariot rises into respectability, and the star-root rogues are paragons compared with this same canting C. C. Duncan shipping commissioner. And Mark Twain returned to his strawberries. End of Section 23, June 10, 1883, Mark Twain excited on seeing the name of Captain C. C. Duncan in print. Read by John Greenman. Section 24 of Mark Twain in the New York Times, Part 2, 1880 to 1889. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Mark Twain in the New York Times, Part 2, Section 24, November 11, 1883. Mark Twain on Copyright Law. Read by John Greenman. Mark Twain on Copyright Law. The editor of the Boston musical record a few weeks ago wrote Mr. Samuel L. Clemens for his opinion on an international copyright law, and this was the reply. I am forty-seven years old, and therefore shall not live long enough to see the international copyright established. Neither will my children live long enough. Yet for the sake of my possible remote descendants, I feel a languid interest in the subject. Yes, to answer your question squarely, I am in favour of an international copyright law. So was my great-grandfather. It was in 1847 that he made his struggle in this great work, and it is my hope and prayer that as long as my stock shall last, the transmitted voice of that old man will still go ringing down the centuries, stirring the international heart in the interest of the international cause for which he struggled and died. I favour the treaty which was proposed four or five years ago, and is still being considered by our State Department. I also favour engraving it on brass. It is on paper now. There is no lasting quality about paper. End of Section 24, November 11, 1883, Mark Twain on Copyright Law. Read by John Greenman. Section 25 of Mark Twain in the New York Times. Part 2, 1880-1889. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Mark Twain in the New York Times. Part 2, Section 25. December 4, 1883. Mark Twain aggrieved. Read by John Greenman. Mark Twain aggrieved. Why a Statue of Liberty when we have Adam? Mark Twain was asked to contribute to the album of artist sketches and autograph letters to be raffled for that the Bartolady Pedestal Fund Art loan exhibition, and this is his response which accompanied his contribution. You know my weakness for Adam, and you know how I have struggled to get him a monument and failed. Now it seems to me here is my chance. What do we care for a Statue of Liberty when we've got the thing itself in its wildest sublimity? What you want of a monument is to keep you in mind of something you haven't got. Something you've lost. Very well. We haven't lost Liberty. We've lost Adam. Another thing. What has Liberty done for us? Nothing in particular that I know of. What have we done for her? Everything. We've given her a home and a good home too. And if she knows anything, she knows it's the first time she ever struck that novelty. She knows that when we took her in she had been a mere tramp for six thousand years, biblical measure. Yes, and we not only ended her troubles and made things soft for her permanently, but we made her respectable, and that she hadn't ever been before. And now, after we've poured out these Atlantic's of benefits upon this aged outcast, lo and behold you, we are asked to come forward and set up a monument to her. Go to. Let her set up a monument to us if she wants to do the clean thing. But suppose your statue represented her old bent closed in rags, downcast, shame-faced with the insults and humiliation of six thousand years imploring a crust and all ours rest for, God's sake, at our back door. Come now, you're shouting. That's the aspect of her which we need to be reminded of, lest we forget it. Not this proposed one where she's hearty and well-fed and holds up her head and flourishes her hospitable schooner of flame and appears to be inviting all the rest of the tramps to come over. Oh, go to. This is the very insolence of prosperity. But on the other hand, look at Adam. What have we done for Adam? Nothing. What has Adam done for us? Everything. He gave us life. He gave us death. He gave us heaven. He gave us hell. These are inestimable privileges, and remember, not one of them should we have had without Adam. Well, then, he ought to have a monument, for evolution is steadily and surely abolishing him, and we must get up a monument and be quick about it, or our children's children will grow up ignorant that there ever was an Adam. With trifling alterations this present statue will answer very well for Adam. You can turn that blanket into an Ulster without any trouble. Part the hair on one side or conceal the sex of his head with a fire-helmet, and at once he's a man. Put a harp and a halo and a palm branch in his left hand to symbolize a part of what Adam did for us, and leave the fire-basket just where it is to symbolize the rest. My friend, the father of life and death and taxes has been neglected long enough. Shall this infamy be allowed to go on, or shall it stop right here? Is it but a question of finance? Behold the enclosed paid bank checks. Use them as freely as they are freely contributed. Heaven knows I would there were a ton of them. I would send them all to you, for my heart is in the sublime work. S.L.C. End of Section 25, December 4, 1883. Mark Twain aggrieved, why a Statue of Liberty, when we have Adam. Read by John Greenman. Section 26 of Mark Twain in the New York Times, Part 2, 1880 to 1889. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Mark Twain in the New York Times, Part 2, Section 26, November 19, 1884. Genius and Versatility. Mr. Cable exhibits both and Mark Twain, something else. Read by John Greenman. Genius and Versatility. Mr. Cable exhibits both and Mark Twain, something else. A numerous and enthusiastic audience assembled at Chickering Hall last evening to listen to readings from the writings of Mr. Samuel L. Clemens, who prefers to be known as Mark Twain, and Mr. George W. Cable. The gentlemen who read were the gentlemen who had written. The management in its newspaper advertisements spoke of the entertainment as a combination of genius and versatility, but neglected to say which of the gentlemen had the genius and which the versatility. Some of those who were present last evening may have felt justified in coming to the conclusion that Mr. Cable represented both these elements, while Mr. Clemens was simply man, after the fashion of that famous hunting animal, one half of which was pure Irish setter and the other half just plain dog. Mr. Cable was humorous, pathetic, weird, grotesque, tender, and melodramatic by turns, while Mr. Clemens confined his efforts to the ridicule of such ridiculous matters as aged colored gentlemen, the German language, and himself. It became evident early in the evening that the gentlemen who conceived the plan of bringing these two readers together had a marvelous faculty for grasping the sublimest possibilities of contrast. The audience appeared, however, to enjoy the sensation of dropping abruptly downward from such delightful people as Narcisse, Risto Fallo, and Kate Riley, to such earthy creatures as Huckleberry Finn. The first selection was from Dr. Sevier, the interesting scene in which Narcisse thinks he can baw that fifty-dollar himself. Then Mr. Clemens recited a selection from The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, which will be continued in Mr. Clemens' next book. Mr. Cable followed with a scene from Dr. Sevier, in which Kate Riley yields her hand so eagerly to Risto Fallo. The audience appeared to enjoy hugely the Italian's complacent Das All Right! Mr. Clemens then read his tragic tale of a fish-wife, which continued some remarkable linguistic contortions produced by adapting the German genders to the English language. Mr. Clemens was recalled after this effort and ladled out another section of the Huckleberry Finn advance sheets. Then Mr. Cable read A Sound of Drums from Dr. Sevier. This masterly bit of word-painting was recited with fine elocutionary art, and held the audience spellbound to the close, when a burst of enthusiastic applause recalled Mr. Cable to the stage and compelled him to sing one of the old Confederate war songs that he learned by the campfire. Mr. Clemens recited A Trying Situation, one of those peculiar productions which attributes to its author much idiocy, and suggests the thought that it was written in the hope that it would make men deem the writer a very different kind of man. Mr. Cable's last selection from Dr. Sevier was Mary's Night Ride, in which weirdness, tenderness, and melodramatic force were joined with a rare skill that evoked hearty and continued applause. Mr. Clemens concluded the entertainment with A Ghost Story, which had no merit beyond the reader's suggestion that it was a queer story to tell children at bedtime. This afternoon the same program will be given, and this evening this combination of contrasts will present a fresh batch of readings. End of Section 26. November 19, 1884. Genius and Versatility. Mr. Cable exhibits both, and Mark Twain, something else. Read by John Greenman. Section 27 of Mark Twain in the New York Times, Part 2, 1880 to 1889. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Mark Twain in the New York Times, Part 2, Section 27. December 31, 1884. Put him on the witness stand. Read by John Greenman. Put him on the witness stand. He may make another extraordinary exhibition of himself. Boston, Massachusetts, December 30. Samuel L. Clemens, Mark Twain, through his counsel, George L. Huntress, filed today in the United States Circuit Court a bill against Estes and Laureate publishers, praying that they may be restrained from further distribution of a catalog of books in which they announce that the forthcoming book by Mark Twain, entitled Huckleberry Finn, is now ready for sale at a price reduced from $2.75 to $2.25. The bill alleges that said Estes and Laureate published said statement, knowing it to be untrue, and for the purpose of injuring the author and interfering in his business and hindering and delaying sales by his authorized agents at the regular subscription price of $2.75. That Estes and Laureate have not said book for sale and have never even seen a copy. That said book has not been published, as they well know, and is not for sale by anyone. That said statement is made for the purpose of preventing subscriptions and is false. That no copies of said book are to be sold except to subscribers, and that even after publication it can be obtained by Estes and Laureate only by collusion and conspiracy with the plaintiff's agents, and by inducing them to break their lawful contract with the plaintiff to sell only to subscribers, and that they are now so conspiring. The bill also alleges past damages. Judge Colt has issued an order to the defendant to appear on Tuesday January 6 to show cause at which time the plaintiff will make a formal motion for an injunction. This is a test question between rival methods of publishing popular books. End of Section 27, December 31, 1884. Put him on the witness stand. Read by John Greenman. Section 28 of Mark Twain in the New York Times, Part 2, 1880-1889. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Mark Twain in the New York Times, Part 2, Section 28, January 15, 1885. Mark Twain, a Plaintiff. Read by John Greenman. Mark Twain a Plaintiff. He seeks to prevent the sale of one of Mark Twain's books at a reduced price. Boston, January 14. Judge Colt heard this morning in the United States Circuit Court the case of Samuel L. Clemens, Mark Twain, against Estes and Laureate, publishers in this city. The complainant wished to enjoin Estes and Laureate from issuing a catalogue offering Mark Twain's unpublished book, Huckleberry Finn, at a price less than the subscription rate, and also from collusion with the subscription agents so as to obtain the books at a price less than their agreement allowed. George L. Huntress and S. Lincoln appeared for Mr. Clemens, and S. J. Elder for Estes and Laureate. Mr. Huntress explained the difference between the subscription method of sale and the trade method, and declared that the custom had always been that subscription books should not be sold to the trade and should not be sold at prices less than the rate set by the publishers. He cited the case of Prince Albert against Strange. The latter obtained plates of a private book of etchings of Prince Albert and the Queen and advertised the etchings for exhibition. He was restrained not only from exhibiting the etchings, but also from advertising them. Mark Twain's book will not be ready for four or five weeks, yet last month Estes and Laureate advertised in their catalogue the book as then ready for sale at the price of two dollars and twenty-five cents instead of two dollars and seventy-five cents the subscription rate. They based their advertisement on the probability of causing some agent to break his agreement by selling to them at reduced rates. The affidavit of Charles L. Webster of New York, publisher for Mark Twain, stated the agreements which every agent had to sign, agreeing not to sell the book to booksellers or to anyone except subscribers. The affidavits of Charles E. Laureate, Dana Estes, and others connected with the firm offered testimony substantiating the declarations of counsel. They denied having approached any agent to corrupt him. Mr. Elder stated that out of courtesy the firm would not send out any more catalogues, but good faith, with their customers, required them to fulfill the orders already received and to be received. Upon the convening of the court in the afternoon Mr. Lincoln made his argument for Mr. Clemens, and Mr. Elder cited certain authorities bearing upon his side of the case, and the court took the papers and reserved decision. End of Section 28, January 15, 1885. Mark Twain, a plaintiff. Read by John Greenman. Section 29 of Mark Twain in the New York Times Part 2. 1880 to 1889. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Mark Twain in the New York Times Part 2. Section 29. March 19, 1885. Trashy and vicious. Read by John Greenman. Trashy and vicious. From the Springfield Republican. The Concord Public Library Committee deserve well of the public by their action in banishing Mark Twain's new book, Huckleberry Finn, on the ground that it is trashy and vicious. It is time that this influential pseudonym should cease to carry into homes and libraries unworthy productions. Mr. Clemens is a genuine and powerful humorist with a bitter vein of satire on the weakness of humanity which is sometimes wholesome, sometimes only grotesque, but in certain of his works degenerates into a gross trifling with every fine feeling. The trouble with Mr. Clemens is that he has no reliable sense of propriety. His notorious speech at an Atlantic dinner, marshalling Longfellow and Emerson and Whittier in vulgar parodies in a western miner's cabin, illustrated this, but not in much more relief than the adventures of Tom Sawyer did, or than these Huckleberry Finn stories do. The advertising samples of this book, which have disfigured the Century Magazine, are enough to tell any reader how offensive the whole thing must be. They are no better in tone than the dime novels which flood the blood-and-thunder-reading population. Mr. Clemens has made them smarter, for he has an inexhaustible fund of quips and cranks and wasms and wiles, and his literary skill is, of course, superior, but their moral level is low, and their perusal cannot be anything less than harmful. End of Section 29. March 19, 1885. Trashy and Vicious. Read by John Greenman. Section 30 of Mark Twain and the New York Times. Part 2. 1880-1889. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Mark Twain and the New York Times. Part 2. Section 30. April 10, 1885. For the Actors Fund. Read by John Greenman. For the Actors Fund. Philadelphia, April 9. The benefit performance of the Actors Fund of America drew a large audience at the Academy of Music this afternoon. Most of those who took part in the performance came from New York in a special car. Harry Miner, the President of the Actors Fund, J. W. Rickman, Secretary, Colonel Sin of the Park Theatre, Brooklyn, and John Poole of Niblows were with the party. There were nearly fifty ladies and gentlemen. Several members of the reception committee met them at Trenton and returned with them to this city. The performance began with an overture by the combined orchestras of Philadelphia under the direction of Simon Hasler. James H. Hevrin then delivered an address. The Madison Square Company gave the first act of the private secretary, McCall's opera company, the second act of Appajoun, and Joseph Murphy and Ella Baker appeared in the second act of Sean Rue. Mark Twain recited the tragic tale of the fishwife. Pauline Hale sang a solo. Professor Keller gave one of his cabinet performances. Will S. Rising sang a Neapolitan song. The orchestra, conducted by Harry Saxton, played an overture, and the Cellbino Trio displayed their skill on the bicycle. President Minor stated that the receipts of the performance would be about $3,400. End of Section 30, April 10, 1885, for the Actors Fund, read by John Greenman. Section 31 of Mark Twain and the New York Times, Part 2, 1880 to 1889. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Mark Twain and the New York Times, Part 2, Section 31, August 10, 1886. An injunction refused against John Wanamaker. Read by John Greenman. An injunction refused. Philadelphia, August 9. Judge Butler in the United States District Court rendered a decision today in the application of Samuel L. Clemens, Mark Twain, in behalf of C. L. Webster and Company of Hartford, Connecticut, for a preliminary injunction to constrain sale of copies of General Grant's personal memoirs in this city by John Wanamaker and Company. In his opinion, Judge Butler says, if this case was substantially identical with the publishing company against Smith, recently decided by the Circuit Court for Ohio, we would esteem it our duty to follow the ruling in that case and grant the writ. It is not, however. In some material respects the cases are clearly distinguishable. The one before us seems to resemble Clemens against Estes, 22 Fed, Rep. 899, in which the writ was refused. As the question must be further considered on final hearing when the facts may be more fully developed, it would be unwise to discuss it at this time. After full consideration, the complainants' rights, as disclosed by the affidavits and accompanying papers, are not deemed sufficiently clear to warrant the preliminary writ asked for. End of Section 31, August 10, 1886, an injunction refused against John Wanamaker, read by John Greenman. Section 32 of Mark Twain in the New York Times, Part 2, 1880 to 1889. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Mark Twain in the New York Times, Part 2, Section 32, March 21, 1887, Mark Twain's English Royalties, read by John Greenman. Mark Twain's English Royalties, from the Palmaal Gazette. Until some aggrieved author assassinates the President of the United States, so long will the brains of the English author be stolen and served up as cheap plaits by the pirate publishers of America. Mrs. Chateau and Windus publish some of Bret Hart's books, Artemis Wards and Mark Twain's. As might be expected, there is little sale for Artemis. Bret Hart is popular, but Mark Twain makes a really handsome income by his books, which are, of course, copyright. Mrs. Chateau and Windus are Mr. Clemens' English publishers. His books, I should say, are eleven in number, published at prices varying from seven shilling sixpence to two shillings. The following are the payments made to him in royalties. 1,281 pounds, 1,522 pounds, 610 pounds, 904 pounds, 356 pounds, 979 pounds, 471 pounds, 70 pounds, 162 pounds, 398 pounds, 960 pounds, total, 7,713 pounds, or an annual income of over 1,000 pounds. Verbalm sap. End of Section 32, March 21st, 1887, Mark Twain's English Royalties from the Palmal Gazette. Read by John Greenman. Section 33 of Mark Twain in the New York Times, Part 2, 1880 to 1889. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Mark Twain in the New York Times, Part 2, Section 33, April 9th, 1889, Baseball at Delmonico's. Read by John Greenman. Baseball at Delmonico's. Banquet to the ball tossers who went around the world. Baseball, here before, has been regarded as an athletic game in which muscle and a desire to dispute with the umpire have been potent factors. But that is all a mistake. Baseball is an intellectual pursuit, which is indulged in only by gentlemen of the highest mental caliber, and by those whose minds have undergone a singularly stringent training in the matter of intellectuality. This fact was established last night at a dinner given in the Great Banquet Hall at Delmonico's to the players whose tour through various foreign lands gave the American national game a world-wide fame. The Banquet Hall was jammed with people, and enthusiasm and champagne went hand in hand. Champagne sometimes got the better of enthusiasm, but the intellectuality of the gathering was its most conspicuous feature. Among the speakers calling the deepest and heartiest cheers from the lungs of the listeners were Mr. Baby Anson and the Honourable Chauncey M. Depew, Mr. Johnny Ward, and the Honourable Daniel Doherty, Mr. Jimmy Manning and Alfred C. Chapin, Mayor of Brooklyn, Mr. Freddy Pfeiffer and Judge Henry E. Howland. Governor Hill of New York, Governor Bulkley of Connecticut, Governor Green of New Jersey and Mayor Grant were to have added to the pleasure of the evening, but each sent a letter of regret affirming that baseball was the noblest and most exhilarating and intellectual game that man had ever devised. Mayor Chapin was the first speaker, the fact that he hadn't seen a game of baseball for 25 years seemed to weigh upon Mr. Chapin's mind and he said he only felt justified as appearing at this flow of reason by the fact that Brooklyn was familiarly regarded as the birthplace of baseball and he lived in Brooklyn. Mr. Baby Anson was considerably embarrassed when he rose to his feet but was also thankful that he had been permitted to assist in teaching the world what it most needed to know and Mr. Johnny Ward seemed glad of the opportunity given him to display his singularly correct knowledge of the English language. Other speeches were made by a gentleman to whom the less intellectual habit of talking was most familiar and the erudite persons present made generous allowance for their shortcomings. They were Mark Twain, Mr. Depew, Mr. Doherty, Erastus Wyman, Judge Howland, Jay Cever Page, and Mr. William H. McElroy. Mr. DeWolf Hopper and Mr. Digby Bell, gentlemen who combine an intellectual knowledge of baseball with a physical knowledge of how to be funny, came in late and made speeches. Some of the names of these members ought to be given that they might henceforth be regarded as patrons of high art. Besides those already mentioned, there were present McGrane Cox, C. T. Dillingham, Commodore James D. Smith, Frank Millet, Clay M. Green, Joseph J. O'Donoghue, Honourable's S. Beatle, Theodore Roosevelt, Elliot Roosevelt, Paul Dana, R. 30 Sullivan, Judge H. A. Gildersleeve, Herman Ulrich, and Colonel John A. McCall. The baseball season has begun. End of Section 33, Article 9, 1889, Baseball at Delmonico's, read by John Greenman. Section 34 of Mark Twain in the New York Times, Part 2, 1880-1889. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Mark Twain in the New York Times, Part 2, Section 34, December 10, 1889, Mark Twain and his book, The Humorist on the Copyright Question, read by John Greenman. Mark Twain and his book, The Humorist on the Copyright Question, the spread of foreign notions not to his liking, what his English publisher dared not print. Where is Farmington Avenue? asked a stranger on arriving at Hartford, Connecticut, station the other day. Do you know Mark Twain's? was the interrogative response from which it would seem that there is no object in the topography of Hartford than the magnificent avenue on which his house stands. If you walk along this avenue for a mile, you come to Mark Twain's on the left, at 351. The house is in a beautiful situation, especially in summer, but just now the trees about it are bare, the creepers on the veranda are withered, and no evergreen shrubs brighten the lawn. One of the colleagues, however, guarded the entrance the other day, and a pole at the bell brought a polite negro to the door. Mr. Clemens soon appeared, clad in a light grey suit. His fine profusion of hair is silvering fast, but remains in a state of artistic disorder characteristic of it. His mustache clings to its reddish hue, and his heavy eyebrows appropriately maintain a just equilibrium as Mr. Clemens, as is his custom, spoke very quietly and slowly. His new book will be published in New York on the tenth, but before then he will pay a flying visit to Canada. He will just look over the frontier and register on the other side. He could register near home with less trouble, but his peep into Canada will secure him copyright there and in England. There's something to say about this new book and about how he had been obliged to modify it to suit the English publisher. Mr. Clemens was one of the first leaders in the modern fight for copyright. Many years ago, when only a young author, he started in like a knight-errant to secure copyright, but the crusade collapsed because the hero was not backed up. He advocated and took an active interest in the chase-bill of last session. Had the same party been in power, said Mr. Clemens, I would have gone to Washington again with the boys, but I don't know the feeling of the present Congress, and I have not much faith in a Republican Congress anyway. They are more likely to clap on more protection where it isn't needed to pass a measure which would do some good. Everyone ought to get value for his labor, whether he makes boots or manuscripts. What do you think of the opinion held by an eminent American author that American literature is now on its legs and does not need protection since it has survived and overcome competition with pirated reprints? That, said Mr. Clemens, is true as far as it goes, but it does not go far enough. Publishers, as it happens, are constructed out of pretty much the same material as other people, and they are not likely to pay a royalty on a book by an unknown American author when they can get works by established authors in the country. I may as well speak out on the question. A month ago I wouldn't have done it, but now, yes, I will speak out. This, then, understand is not simply a question of protecting American authors. What becomes of them, whether they live or die, is of no consequence. It is a question of copyright. It is a question of maintaining in America a national literature of preserving national sentiment, national politics, national thought, and national morals. What becomes of a dozen chuckle-headed authors who can go and saw wood if they like is the nearest trifle compared with the great colossal national stakes involved. We are fed on a foreign literature and imbibe foreign ideas. But if I were to go to England and write down what I think of their monarchical shame, pour out my utter contempt for their pitiful lords and dukes, and preach my sermon, I would not be able to get my views published. No English publisher would do it. But if a foreigner comes along here, and after looking around for few minutes, goes home and writes a book, abusing our president, and reviling our institutions, his views are published and his book is gobbled up by American publishers and circulated throughout the country for twenty cents a copy. Foreigners, after that, tell us that we are thin-skinned. You Americans are very thin-skinned, they say. Our skin is not so very thin, but it would be tough if it were not lacerated by such things as these. And then our newspapers are abused. We are told that they are irreverent, coarse, vulgar, ribbled. I hope they will remain irreverent. I would like that irreverence to be preserved in America for ever and ever. Irreverence for all royalties and all those titled creatures born into privilege. Merit alone should constitute the one title to eminence, and we Americans can afford to look down and spit upon miserable, titled non-entities. But I am sorry that some of our newspapers are losing their irreverence. They publish too much about that puppet of an emperor in Germany. And this dissemination of foreign literature is affecting our women. There are women in America and perfectly respectable women who are ready to sell themselves to anything bearing the name of Duke. Mr. Clemens was carried away by indignation when delivering this broadside. He ceased towing with his watch chain and fired off his sentences to the accompaniment of emphatic gestures. His conversation in its normal condition is quiet, slow, and deliberate. Sometimes he lingers over one word and then accelerates the speed of the next few words so as to make up for the delay. He has a habit, when talking with you, of peering fixedly at some imaginary object in space, as if he had struck some luminous idea and was determined to hold on to it. Now and then his keen bright eyes sparkle as he lets off some brilliant sally or unexpected caruscation. Having delivered himself on the contamination of American ideas by the spread of foreign literature Mr. Clemens turned to his new book, which satirizes the shams, laws, and customs of today under pretense of dealing with England of the sixth century. I want, he said, to get at the Englishman. But in order to do that I must deal with the English publisher. And the English publishers are cowards and so are the English newspapers. I have had to modify and modify my book to suit the English publishers taste, until I really cannot cut it any more. I talked to Mr. Osgood about it and he said that there was only one publisher in London that would take my book as I wanted to leave it and that house was not quite reputable. I've got to have a respectable house and Mr. Osgood said that my London publisher, Mr. Chateau was one of the bravest of them. Yes, Mr. Chateau will do the best he can, but he will cut my book. All I could do was to appeal to him to cut it as little as possible. I am anxious to know my fate. I see that he has cut my preface. Yes, more than half of my preface is gone and all because of a little playful remark of mine about the divine right of kings. Mr. Clemens was very much cut up over the massacre of his preface. This is the part which was considered too long for Englishmen. The question as to whether there is such a thing as divine right of kings is not settled in this book, it was found too difficult. That the executive head of a nation should be a person of lofty character and extraordinary ability was manifest and indisputable. That none but the deity could select that head unerringly was also manifest and indisputable. That the deity ought to make that selection then was likewise manifest and indisputable. Consequently, that he does make it as claimed was an unavoidable deduction. I mean until the author of this book encountered the pompadour and Lady and some other executive heads of that kind these were found so difficult to work into the scheme that it was judged better to take the other tack in this book which must be issued this fall and then go into training and settle the question in another book. It is of course a question which ought to be settled and I am not going to have anything particular to do next winter anyway. Mr. Clemens is delighted at the way the artist has entered into the spirit of the book in executing the illustrations and pointed especially to the fine portrait of J. Gould in the capacity of the slave driver but he fears that some of the illustrations in the English edition will be sacrificed on the altar of English hypocrisy. I see you at work on this book Mr. Clemens. I projected it four years ago he replied and it has been in manuscript for three years. I put it in pigeon-holes and took it out now and then to see how it was getting on and replaced it again. I began to think several months ago that it was about ripe the times were about ripe for it and sure enough it was for there is Brazil gets rid of her emperor in 24 hours and there is talk of a republic in Portugal and in Australia and curiously enough the proclamation of the Brazilian republicans is very similar meaning in the ideas not the words to that which my hero issues abolishing the monarchy. The sales of Mr. Clemens books are about the same on both sides of the Atlantic when a book is first published only a third of the income comes from England and two thirds from the American edition but when the work falls into the category of old books it is reversed probably owing to the fact that cheap editions are published in England. Mr. Clemens cannot say which of his books has had the largest sale though he is inclined to give the palm to the Innocence Abroad that and his other earlier works are pirated in England a London publisher named Houghton once issued a set of Mark Twain's earlier works accompanied with a glossary to explain the words or the jokes of Mark Twain. Mark Twain's reflection on this proceeding at the time was I should like very much to blow Mr. Houghton's brains out not that I have any objection to Mr. Houghton but just to see. Are you pestered with autograph fiends? Mr. Clemens was next asked. Yes, he said I get my share I write out a few hundred cards now and then and give them to my secretary to mail when I sent them myself I used to discriminate I would not send my autograph unless the applicant sent addressed envelopes no matter whether they sent a thousand cards or a hundred thousand stamps if they didn't write the address I gobbled their stamps and kept my autograph Mr. Clemens took his visitor upstairs to what appeared to be his sanctum and a billiard room combined he had been standing at the billiard table writing he writes a young man's hand and better and clearer than most young men his copy is not likely to make compositors break the third commandment unless they are carried away by ecstasies over it he not only writes clearly and carefully but his punctuation is elaborate to a fault he walked up and down the room smoking a wooden pipe which had a chronic tendency to fall into and required refilling often there was a writing table in the room with a case full of books beside it do you write at that desk Mr. Clemens no I write there there was a small circular table pushed up close to the wall strewn with papers and affording very little elbow room for writing and when may we expect another book I don't know replied Mr. Clemens I don't write the book a book writes itself if there is another book in me it will come out and I will put it on paper thus the humorist's works pass through two stages of evolution first there is a process of mental incubation then the work is transferred to paper and remains in a sort of chrysalis condition in pigeonholes until it is ripe for publication end of section 34 December 10th 1889 Mark Twain and his book The Copyright Question read by John Greenman section 35 of Mark Twain in the New York Times part 2 1880 to 1889 this LibriVox recording is in the public domain Mark Twain in the New York Times part 2 section 35 December 17th 1889 Author's Readings read by John Greenman Author's Readings an interesting entertainment in Brooklyn last night Ex-Mayor Lowe presided last night at an author's reading in the Brooklyn Academy of Music under the auspices of the American Copyright League and for the benefit of its fund to secure the passage of an international copyright law the academy was filled with ladies and gentlemen Mr. Lowe occupied a chair in the center of the stage and directly behind him sitting in chairs arranged in a semi-circle were a number of gentlemen whose names and works are familiar to magazine readers seated also on the stage and in the boxes were, among others, these members of the League Generals A. C. Barnes W. A. White Frank Lyman Dr. P. P. Wells James L. Morgan Jr. Robert Munns G. W. Bordwell M. D. Farrington Dr. H. Lotto C. C. Wallace F. Siever S. V. Lowell C. Cuthbert Hall the Reverend J. W. Chadwick and Mrs. J. S. T. Stranahan Chairman Lowe, before introducing the readers made a brief address in which he referred to the necessity of an international copyright law and the injustice to which authors were now and have been for years subjected without it was Ernest Hope and he knew he voiced the thoughts of all fair-minded men that this session of Congress would not expire without the enactment of a law. He presented Mr. W. L. Keys who read the following communication from Mark Twain, sent in response to an invitation to be present. Gentlemen, I have worked for copyright in all the ways that its friends have suggested ever since in 1972, seventeen or eighteen years and I am cordially willing to continue to work for it all the rest of my life in all those ways but one. But I want to draw the line there. The Platform We can point to an aggregate of about twelve authors' readings now since the first attempt but we cannot point to a single one of them and say it was rationally conducted. Conducting a show is a trade. To do it well it must be done by a master, not novices and apprentices. There is no master with grit enough for the place. You cannot find him. He has not been born yet. Consider what is required of him. He must say to the small fry you are allowed ten minutes Platform time if you overpress it two minutes I shall bring down the gavel and shut you off to the very greatest poet he must say for your own sake you are allowed but fifteen minutes test your piece at home and time it by a friend's watch and allow for the difference between Platform time and Parlor time which is three minutes if it overpasses twelve minutes at home you must cut it down to twelve if you try to ring in an extra piece you'll hear the gavel he must say to the audience the performance will close at ten o'clock whether this program is finished or not and then keep his word he must find obscurities who are willing to take the tale places on the plain condition that they may possibly never be called up or no to rioties who will promise that they will not answer to their names after ten o'clock and will honorably keep that promise there is no such man alive unless it might be general Sherman author of the brisk and delightful memoirs and even then you would have to appoint me to police him and whisper from time to time general your time is up for possibly you have noticed it in no instance in history as the chairman of an author's reading failed to add an hour to the already intolerably long bill no, an author's reading conducted in the customary way turns to be the pleasantest of all entertainments into an experience to be forever remembered with bitterness by the audience remember Washington there are now living but for persons who paid to get into that house it is also a fact however privately it has been kept that twenty-two died and eighty-one on their way home I am miserable when I think of my share in that wanton that unprovoked massacre tell me any other way that I can help the cause and I will do my very level best sincerely yours S. L. Clemens Edward Eggleston after telling a few funny stories read bad means wooing from the Hoosiers schoolmaster then Mr. Lowe introduced Richard Watson Gilder editor of the Century the cause of international copyright said Mr. Gilder is the cause of national honor the fault of any individual may be excused but who shall excuse the crime of a nation the greatest crime of this country which we have had to acknowledge since slavery is the piracy of the intellect applause greeted his words Mr. Gilder read three of his short poems the build of the chimney Sheridan and on the life mask of Abraham Lincoln a question of today was read by its author Edwin Lasseter Binner Mr. R. R. Boker read from an autobiographic letter written by Amelia B. Edwards how she wrote her novels Robert Grant gave some humorous passages from his confessions of a frivolous girl William Hamilton Gibson read his article in the September Scribner's A Midnight Ramble and F. Hopkinson Smith by permission of Harper's magazine entertained the audience with an unpublished story called Six Hours in Squantico which he declared was a voracious narrative of a queer experience in the town. Theodore Roosevelt's name ended the program he told of his last encounter with a grizzly bear end of section 35 December 17th 1889 author's readings and end of Mark Twain in the New York Times part 2 1880 to 1889 read by John Greenman