7 January 1875 • Hartford, Conn. (MS: CSmH, UCCL 01175)
Those Annual Bills.
Air—Those Evening Bells.
By Mark Twain.
Those annual bills! those annual bills! ghost discord trills How many a song their warning thrills fills tells swells Of “truck” consumed, enjoyed, forgot Since New Year last Since I reviewed received Since I was floored, strapped, fell under, skinned, scalped, flayed by last year’s lot! Those joyous beans are past away Those hams Those onions blithe, O where are they? Once loved, lost, mourned—now vexing ills shades troop back Your ghosts return in annual bills aground cleaned And so will be when I am broke; ose yearly duns will still go around That annual Ⓐemendation While bards than I more frantic still While other bards shall with frantic quills Shall damn & damn these annual bills!I send this original rought draft just as it was when I laid the pen down to welcome you two hours ago. If you had only opened my cheque-book (which lay under the MS.,) you would have found New-Year inspiration there for even a more gifted poem than this one is. I
the following insertion is vertical in relation to the rest of the letter
J. T. Fields,
148 Charles st.
Boston.
I am glad to send this to you, since you are were complimentary enough to ask it.
Clemens’s date is incorrect: on 7 January 1874 he was in England.
Since relinquishing the editorship of the Atlantic to Howells in July 1871, Fields had remained active as an author and lecturer ( L4 , 93–94 n. 1; Austin, 423–25). He did not lecture in Hartford at this time, but he visited the Clemenses on 7 January. From home he answered Clemens’s letter, addressing the envelope to “Samuel L. Clemens Esq. at the House Beautiful” (CU-MARK):
Before sending the manuscript draft of “Those Annual Bills” to Fields, Clemens had evidently made himself a fair copy. He later revised it slightly and published it in Sketches, New and Old, paired with the Thomas Moore poem it parodied (SLC 1875, 62):
THOSE EVENING BELLS.
by thomas moore.
Those evening bells! those evening bells! How many a tale their music tells Of youth, and home, and that sweet time When last I heard their soothing chime.
Those joyous hours are passed away; And many a heart that then was gay, Within the tomb now darkly dwells, And hears no more those evening bells.
And so ’twill be when I am gone— That tuneful peal will still ring on; While other bards shall walk these dells, And sing your praise, sweet evening bells.
THOSE ANNUAL BILLS
by mark twain.
Those joyous beans are passed away; Those onions blithe, O where are they! Once loved, lost, mourned—now vexing ills Your shades troop back in annual bills!
And so ’twill be when I’m aground— These yearly duns will still go round, While other bards, with frantic quills, Shall damn and damn these annual bills!
MS, Henry E. Huntington Library, San Marino (CSmH, call no. FI 5076).
L6 , 341–43; Howe, 248–49, MS facsimile.
See Huntington Library in Description of Provenance.
More information on provenance may be found in Description of Provenanceclick to open link.