This untitled manuscript of twenty-two leaves in the Mark Twain Papers, here assigned the title “Reflections on a Letter and Book,” was probably written in late April or early May 1903. Clemens designated it “Auto.” on the first page, which transcribes a letter to him from one Hilary Trent (pseudonym of R. M. Manley), author of Mr. Claghorn’s Daughter. Manley asked Clemens to read his book, obviously hoping that he would comment on it. Clemens used the occasion to ridicule the selfishness of the entire human race, himself included: “We do no benevolences whose first benefit is not for ourselves.” On 26 April 1903 he wrote Manley that he had read the book “with a strong interest, because I am in sympathy with its sermon” and because he approved of “the grace & vigor of your style & because of the attractions of the story as a story” (transcript in CU-MARK; Clemens allowed a condensed version of this “puff” to be used in advertisements for the book). Manley’s “sermon” was in fact an attack on Presbyterian doctrine in general and the Westminster Confession of Faith in particular. Near the end of his manuscript Clemens inserted clippings of three articles about recent events that he thought were relevant to his argument, but he made no attempt to actually integrate them into his text. In the four concluding pages, however, he did devote one paragraph to the Westminster Catechism, which the first article had reported as being under revision.
All of the physical evidence (ink, paper, pagination) establishes that these pages make up a single work, but the connection between the first seventeen and the last four seemed so tentative to Paine that he actually turned them (by virtue of penciled titles) into separate works. He published the first section in “Unpublished Chapters from the Autobiography of Mark Twain” in the August 1922 issue of Harper’s Monthly (SLC 1922c, 312–15), supplying the title “A Young Author Sends Mark Twain a Book,” but he did not reprint it in his edition of the autobiography. He did not publish the second section, on which he penciled what seemed to him an appropriate title, “Moral and Intellectual Man.” Neider declined to include even the first part, and the present text is therefore the first time the manuscript has been published in full.
Another of those peculiarly depressing letters—a letter cast in artificially humorous form, whilst no art could make the subject humorous: to me.Ⓐapparatus note
DearⒶapparatus note Sir:—I have written a bookⒺexplanatory note—naturally, which fact, however, since I am not your enemy need give you no occasion to rejoice. Nor need you grieve, though I am sending you a copy. If I knew of any way of compelling you to read it I would do so, but unless the first few pages have that effect, I can do nothing. Try the first few pages. I have done a great deal more than that with your books, so perhaps you owe me something—say ten pages. If after that attempt you put it aside, I shall be sorry—for you!
I am afraid that the above looks flippant—but think of the twitterings of the soul of him who brings in his hand an unbidden book, written by himself. To such a one much is due in the way of indulgence. Will you remember that? Have you forgotten early twitterings of your own?Ⓐapparatus note
The coat-of-arms of the human race ought to consist of a man with an axe on his shoulder proceeding toward a grindstone. Or, it ought to represent the several members of the human race holding out the hat to each other. For we are all beggars. Each in his own way. One beggarⒶapparatus note is too proud to beg for pennies, but will beg a loan of dollars, knowing he can’t repay;Ⓐapparatus note [begin page 182] another will not beg a loan, but will beg for a postmastership;Ⓐapparatus note another will not do that but will beg for an introduction to “society;”Ⓐapparatus note one, being rich, will not beg a hod of coal of the railway company, but will beg a pass; his neighbor will not beg coal, nor pass,Ⓐapparatus note but in social converse with a lawyer will place before him a supposititious case in the hope of getting an opinion out of him for nothing; one who would disdain to beg for any of these things will beg frankly forⒶapparatus note the Presidency. None of the lot is ashamed of himself, but he despisesⒶapparatus note the rest of the mendicants. Each admires his own dignity, and carefully guards it, but in his opinion the others haven’t any.
Mendicancy is a matter of taste and temperament, no doubt, but certainly no human being is without a form of it. I know my own form, you know yours; let us curtain it from view and abuse the others. To every man cometh, at intervals, a man with an axe to grind. To you, reader, among the rest.Ⓐapparatus note By and by that axe’s aspect becomes familiar to you—when you are the proprietor of the grindstone—and the moment you catch sight of it you perceive that it is the same old axe; then you withdraw within yourself, and stick out your spines. If you are the Governor, you know that this stranger wants a position. The first six times the axe came, you were deceived—after that,Ⓐapparatus note humiliated. The bearer of it poured out such noble praises of you and of your politicalⒶapparatus note record that your lips trembled, the moisture dimmed your eyes, there was a lump in your throat, and you were thankfulⒶapparatus note that you had lived to have this happiness; then the stranger disclosed his axe and his real motive in coming and in applauding, and you were ashamed of yourself and of your race, recognizing that you had been coarsely affrontedⒶapparatus note by this person whom you had treated hospitably.Ⓐapparatus note Six repetitions are sure to cure you. After that, (if you are not a candidate for re-electionⒶapparatus note), you interrupt the compliments and say—
“Yes-yes, that is all right, never mind about that; come down to business—what is it you want?”
No matter how big or how little your place in life may be, you have a grindstone, and people will bring axes to you. None escapes.
Also, you are in the business yourself. You privately rage at the manⒶapparatus note who brings his axe to you, but every now and then you carry yours to somebody and askⒶapparatus note a whet. I don’t carry mine to strangers, I draw the line there; perhaps that is your way. This is bound to set us up on a high and holy pinnacle and make us look down in cold rebuke upon persons who carry their axes to strangers.
Now, then, since we all carry axes, and must, and cannot break ourselves of it, why has not a best way to do it been invented by some wise and thoughtful person? There can be no reason but one: from the beginning of time each member of the human race, while recognizing with shame and angry disapproval that everybody else is an axe-bearer and beggar, has all the while deceived himself with the superstition that he is free of the taint. And so it would never occur to him to plan out for the help and benefit of the race a scheme whichⒶapparatus note could not advantage himself. For that is human nature.Ⓐapparatus note
But—let us recognize it and confess it—we are all concerned to plan out a best way to approach a person’s grindstone, for we are all beggars;Ⓐapparatus note a best way, a way which shall as nearly as possible avoid offensiveness, a way which shall best promise to secure a grinding for the axe. How would this plan answer, for instance:
[begin page 183] Never convey the axe yourself; send it by another stranger; or by your friend; or by the grindstone-man’s friend; or by a person who is friend to both of you.Ⓐapparatus note
Of course this last is best-best, but the others are good. You see, when you dispatch the axe yourself, (along with your new book, for instance,)Ⓐapparatus note you are making one thing absolutely certain: the grindstone-man will be all ready with a prejudice against it and an aversion, before he has even looked at it. Because—why, merely because you have tied his hands, you have not left him independent, he feels himself cornered, and he frets at this, he chafes, he resents as an impertinenceⒶapparatus note your taking this unfair advantage of him—and he is right. He knows you meant to take a mean advantage of him—Ⓐapparatus notewith all your clumsy arts you have not deceived him. He knows you framed your letter with deliberation, to a distinct end: to compel an answer. You haveⒶapparatus note paid himⒶapparatus note homage: by all the laws of courtesy, he has gotⒶapparatus note to pay for it. And heⒶapparatus note cannot choose theⒶapparatus note way: he hasⒶapparatus note to pay for it in thanksⒶapparatus note and return-compliments. Your ingenuities resemble those of the European professional beggar: to head you off from pretending youⒶapparatus note did not receive his letter, he registers it—and he’s got you!
I respect my own forms of passing the hat, but not other people’s. I realize that this is natural. Among my forms is not that of sending my books to strangers. To do that is to beg for a puff—it has that object, whether the object is confessed in words or not. Since that is not my form of soliciting alms, I look down upon it with a polar disdain. It seems to me that this alsoⒶapparatus note is natural. The first time a stranger ever sent me his book, I was as pleased as a child, and I took all the compliments at par; I supposed the letter was written just to get in those compliments. I didn’t read between the lines, I didn’t know there was anything between the lines. However, as the years dragged along and brought experienceⒶapparatus note I became an expert on invisibles, and could find more meat between the lines than anywhere else. After that, those letters gave me no pleasure; they inarticulately,Ⓐapparatus note but strenuously, demanded pay for the compliments, and they made me ashamed of the offerer; and alsoⒶapparatus note of myself, for being a person who, by the offerer’sⒶapparatus note estimate, was on a low enough grade to value complimentsⒶapparatus note on those terms.
Although I am finding so much fault with this matter I am not ignorant of the fact that compliments are not often given away. A return is expected. And one gets it, tooⒶapparatus note—though not always when the compliments areⒶapparatus note sent by letter. When an audience applauds, it isn’t aware that it is requiring pay for that compliment. But it is; and if the applause is not in some way thankfully acknowledged by the recipient of it,—by bow and smile, for instance—Ⓐapparatus notethe audience will discover that it was expecting an equivalent. Also, it will withdraw its trade, there and then; it is not going to give something for nothing, not if it knows itself. When a beautiful girl catches a compliment in our eye, sheⒶapparatus note pays spot cash for it with a dear little blush. We did not know we were expecting pay, but if she should flash offended dignity at us, instead of that little blush,Ⓐapparatus note we should then know better. She would get no more of our trade on those terms. But in truth, compliments are sometimes actually given away, and no bill presented. I know it can occur as much as once in a century, for it has happened once to me, and I am not a century old, yet. It was twenty-nine years ago. I was lecturing in London at the time. I received a most lovely letter, sparkling and glowing with cordial and felicitous praises—and there was no name signed, and no address!
It was all mine—all free—all gratis—no bill enclosed, nothing to pay, no possible way to pay—an absolutely free gift! It is the only gratis compliment I have ever received, it is the only [begin page 184] gratis compliment I have ever even heard of. Whenever a stranger tagsⒶapparatus note his compliment with his name and address, it stands for C.O.D. He may not consciously and deliberately intend it so, but that is because he has not the habit of searching his motives to the bottom. People avoid that. And that is wise in its way, for the most of one’s motives are best concealed from oneself. I know this by long experience and close examination of my own.
It is not right for a stranger to send me his book himself. It is an embarrassmentⒶapparatus note for him, it is an embarrassmentⒶapparatus note for me. I have not earned this treatment, I have not done him any harm. Why not send it through B, and instruct BⒶapparatus note to say to me, “Take no notice of this unless you are really moved to do it, for A is modest and sensitive, and he would be offended if he knew what I am doing.”
The absence of the club over me would make me feel so grateful that I should find merits in that book that had no existence there nor anywhere else. But no, the author always sends it himself. He knows he is doing an unfair thing; he is ashamed of it, and playfully tries to pretend he isn’t, but his letter always gives him away. He is aware that he is begging. And not for a candid opinion of his book, but for a puff. He is aware that you will want to say that to him, but he is also aware that your self-love will not let you do it. One of two things he always puts in: 1, heⒶapparatus note admires you; 2, you probably asked and received help and encouragement yourself when you were a struggling beginner. It is a curious absence of tact. He wants a gratuity of you, and prepares the way by putting the thing at you as an obligation—it’s your duty to grant it. It may be true, but we resent it, just the same; we don’t want strangers to dictate our duties to us. Sometimes the stranger does thisⒶapparatus note ungracious thing facetiously, sometimes he does it in very plainⒶapparatus note English; but he is in serious earnest in both cases, and you do not like it any better in the one case than in the other.
I am built just as other people are built, so far as I can discover, and therefore I do prize a good hearty compliment above rubies; and am grateful for it, and as glad as you are yourself when I can in sincerity return the mate to it. But when a man goes beyond compliment, it does not give me pleasure, it makes me ashamed. It makes me ashamed; I am not thinking about him, I am thinking about myself; he may humiliate himself if he likes, it is his privilege, but I do not want to be humiliated. Adulation. Adulation—spoken or hinted.Ⓐapparatus note And never earned; never due, to any human being. What a king must suffer! For he knows, deep down in his heart, that he is a poor, cheap, wormy thing like the rest of us, a sarcasm, the Creator’s prime miscarriage in inventions, the moral inferior of all the animals, the inferior of each one of them in one superb physical specialty or another, the superior of them all in one gift only, and that one not up to his estimation of it—intellect.
I do not know how to answer that stranger’s letter. I wish he had spared me. Never mind about him—I am thinking about myself; I wish he had spared me. The book has not arrived, yet; but no matter, I am prejudiced against itⒶapparatus note.
I suppose the reader—if he is an old and experienced person—already knows what it was that I did. I followed custom. I did what one always does after searching for new spirit-quieting methods and finding none: I fell back upon the old, old, over-worked and over-fatigued dodge, trick, subterfuge, polite lie, and wrote him thanking him for his book and promising myself—“at an early date”—the pleasure of reading it.
[begin page 185]That set me free: I was not obliged to read the book, now, unless I chose. Being free, my prejudice was gone. My prejudice being gone, a very natural curiosity took its place. Since I could examine the book without putting myself under an obligation of any sort, I opened it and began, as soon as it came. It was a costly adventureⒶapparatus note for me. I had work to do and no time to spare, but I was not able to put the book down until I had finished it. It embarrassed me a little to write the author and confess this fact, right on the heels of that courteously-discourteous letter which had preceded it, but I did itⒶapparatus note. I did it because I could get more peace for my spirit out of doing it than out of leaving it undone.Ⓐapparatus note Were you thinking I did it to give that author pleasure? I did—at second hand. We do noⒶapparatus note benevolences whose first benefit is not for ourselves.
PRESBYTERIAN DOCTRINE.
Two-thirds of the Presbyteries in Favor of
Revising Confession of Faith.
Philadelphia, April 27.—The Rev. Dr. W. H. Roberts, Stated Clerk of the Presbyterian General Assembly, announced to-day that two-thirds of the presbyteries had voted in favor of revising the Confession of Faith and of the declaratory statement elucidating chapters 3 and 10 of the ConfessionⒺexplanatory note. The subject will be finally disposed of by the General Assembly, which will meet in Los Angeles, Cal., next month. It is expected that the overtures from the presbyteries will be enacted by the General Assembly.
RUSSIAN MASSACRE OF JEWS.
Dispatch to a Local Jewish Paper Telling
of the Slaughter at
Kishinev—120 Reported Killed.
The Jewish Daily News will print this afternoon the following cable dispatch in reference to the anti-Jewish riot in Kishinev, Russia:
“St. Petersburg, April 25th.—(Taken across the border line for transmission in order to escape the Censor.)—The anti-Jewish riots in Kishinev, Bessarabia, are worse than the Censor will permit to publish. There was a well laid plan for the general massacre of Jews on the day following the Russian Easter. The mob was led by priests and the general cry: “Kill the Jews!” was taken up all over the city. The Jews were taken totally unaware, and were slaughtered like sheep. The dead number 120, and the injured about 500.
“The scenes of horror attending this massacre are beyond description. Babes were literally torn to pieces by the frenzied and blood-thirsty mob. The local police made no attempt to check the reign of terror. At sunset the streets were piled with corpses and wounded. Those who could make their escape fled in terror and the city is now practically deserted of Jews.
“Just as in the riots of 1880–1881, there is a popular belief among the Russian peasants that the Czar decreed the slaughtering of Jews. The immediate cause of the riot, however, is the ritual murder accusation against the Jews in Dubosary, government of Kherson. Immediate relief is wanted.”
[begin page 186]
After waiting a year to make up his mind as to whether the story of Adam and Eve was a myth, Gilbert A. Lovell, of Plainfield, N. J., a young churchman who was denied by the Presbytery of Elizabeth a license to preach the Gospel because he expressed his disbelief in that part of the book of Genesis, was to-day licensed by the Presbytery at its spring session held in Perth Amboy.
Lovell and Harrison K. Wright, of Plainfield, applied last spring to the Presbytery for license, but as both held the same opinion as to Adam and Eve being mythical, they were each rejected by a large majority. Afterward a special session of the Presbytery was held to give them an opportunity to recant. Mr. Wright appeared before it and declared his views had changed on the disputed subject, and he was willing to acknowledge his mistake. His explanation and other answers proved satisfactory. He got his license, and later was ordained by the Presbytery.
Lovell, however, sent word he would wait a year before making another try for a license. Meanwhile he evidently experienced a change of heart, as his examination to-day on all theological points gave entire satisfaction to the Presbytery, which will set a date for his ordination.
WeⒶapparatus note have no respectworthy evidence that the human being has morals. He is himself the only witness. Persons who do not know him value his testimony. They think he is not shallow and vain because he so despises the peacock for possessing these qualities. They are deceived into not regarding him as a beast and a brute, because he uses these terms to disapprovinglyⒶapparatus note describe qualities which he possesses, yetⒶapparatus note which are not possessed by any creature but himself. On his verbalⒶapparatus note testimony they take him for every creditable thing which he particularly isn’t, and (intentionally?) refrain from examining theⒶapparatus note testimony of his acts. It is the safest way, but man did not invent it, it was the polecat. From the beginning of time the polecats have quite honestly andⒶapparatus note naively regarded themselves as representing in the animal kingdom what the rose represents in the vegetable kingdom. This is because they do not examine.
Man thinks he is not a fiend.Ⓐapparatus note It is because he has not examined the Westminster Catechism which he invented. He and the polecat— But it is not fair to class them together, the polecat has not invented a Westminster CatechismⒺexplanatory note.
However, moralless man, bloody and atrocious man, is high above the other animals in his one great and shining gift—intellectuality. It took him ages and ages to demonstrate the full magnitude and majestyⒶapparatus note of his gift, but he has accomplished it at last. For ages it was a mean animal indeedⒶapparatus note that was not vastly his superior in certain splendid faculties.Ⓐapparatus note In the beginning he had nothing but the puny strength of his unweaponed hands to protect his life with, and he was as helpless as a rabbitⒶapparatus note when the lion, the tiger, the elephant, the mastodon and the other mighty beasts came against him; in endurance he was far inferior to the other creatures;Ⓐapparatus note in fleetness on the land there was hardly an animal in the whole list that couldn’t shame him; in fleetness in the water every fish could excel him; his eyesightⒶapparatus note was a sarcasmⒶapparatus note: for seeing minute things it was blindness as compared to the eyesight of the insects, and the condor could see a sheep further than he could see a hotel.Ⓐapparatus note But by the ingenuities of his intellect he has equipped himself with all these gifts artificially and has madeⒶapparatus note them unapproachably effective. His locomotive can outstrip all birds and beasts in speed and beat them all in endurance; there are no eyes in the animal worldⒶapparatus note that can compete with his microscope and his telescope; the strength [begin page 187] of the tiger and the elephant is weakness, compared with the force which he carries in his mile-range terrible gun. In the beginning he was given “dominion” overⒶapparatus note the animal creation—a very handsome present, but it was mere words and represented a non-existent sovereignty.Ⓐapparatus note But he has turned it into an existent sovereignty,Ⓐapparatus note himself, and is master, of late. In physical talents he was a pauper when he started; by grace of his intellect he is incomparably the richest of all the animals now. But he is still a pauper in morals—incomparably the poorest of the creatures in that respect. The gods value morals alone; they have paid no compliments to intellect, nor offered it a single reward. If intellect is welcome anywhere in the other world, it is in hell, not heaven.
Dear Sir:—I have written a book] The author of this letter signed his name, “Hilary Trent,” and added a postscript notifying Clemens that his book, Mr. Claghorn’s Daughter, would “be sent you by the J. S. Ogilvie Publishing Co.” Clemens omitted the signature and postscript when inserting the letter here. Trent’s 1903 novel blends domestic melodrama with an attack on the Westminster Confession of Faith, the creed of the American Presbyterian church—specifically what was controversially called its doctrine of “infant damnation” (see the note at 185.15–16). The publisher’s advertising claimed that Hilary Trent was “a well-known writer who conceals his identity under a nom-de-plume” (“Mr. Claghorn’s Daughter,” New York Sun, 23 May 1903, 7), but documentary and internal evidence indicates that he was R. M. Manley, a decidedly little-known writer who harbored strong feelings about the Westminster Confession (Manley 1903; Manley 1897; Manley to SLC, 29 Apr 1903 and 4 May 1903, CU-MARK).
revising the Confession of Faith . . . chapters 3 and 10 of the Confession] The connection between Clemens’s screed on self-interest and the newspaper clippings that follow it is Presbyterian doctrine, the subject of Trent’s book (see the note at 181.3). In the late nineteenth century, American Presbyterians began to consider revisions to the Westminster Confession of Faith. Debate centered on chapter 3, which states that some souls have been predestined “unto everlasting life and others foreordained to everlasting death” (section 3); and chapter 10, which asserts that “elect infants” are saved, while infants (as well as adults) who are “not elected” cannot be saved (sections 3–4). Historically, this latter chapter has been interpreted as damning not only many Christian infants, but also all non-Christians (a fact which may bear upon Clemens’s inclusion of the clipping that follows, about the massacre of Russian Jews). In 1902, the year before the writing of the present essay, the Presbyterian church had adopted a statement endorsing a liberal construction of the disputed chapters; it was appended to the Confession in 1903 (Macpherson 1881, 48, 85–86; Briggs 1890, 21–22, 98–130; “Presbyterian Creed Revision Adopted,” New York Times, 23 May 1902, 5).
Westminster Catechism] The catechism based on the Westminster Confession would have been familiar to Clemens from his early religious training (see Fulton 2006, 140–55).
Source documents.
MS Untitled manuscript of 22 leaves, written in 1903; the first leaf is an undated typed letter from Hilary Trent to Clemens.Post Clipping from the New York Evening Post, 27 April 1903, 3, attached to a leaf of the MS numbered 17): ‘PRESBYTERIAN . . . wanted.” ’ (185.11–39).
Clipping Clipping from an unidentified newspaper, ca. 27 April 1903, attached to an unnumbered leaf of the MS, following 17): ‘After . . . ordination.’ (186.1–16).
Clemens’s introductory paragraph was written in brown ink on Trent’s letter; he also wrote ‘Auto’ in the upper left corner. The paper and ink of the other pages match those used for “Something about Doctors,” and are described in its Textual Commentary. The MS was separated into two parts, probably by Paine but possibly earlier. He published part 1—MS pages 1–16 (through ‘ourselves.’ at 185.10)—in Harper’s Monthly Magazine in August 1922 (SLC 1922c), supplying the subtitle “A Young Author Sends Mark Twain a Book.” He did not publish part 2, but titled it “Moral and Intellectual Man” at the head of page 18 (after the clippings). The two parts of the piece have now been reunited on the basis of physical evidence: visible on the verso of MS page 16 (the last page of part 1) is the faint image (offsetting) of the first newspaper clipping, which is on MS page 17 (the first page of part 2). Given the subjects of the two parts, it is not surprising that they have remained separated until now; the relevance of part 2 is not discernible without knowledge of the topic of Trent’s book (see the Explanatory Note at 181.3). In 2005 Joe B. Fulton incorrectly conjectured that part 2 was the conclusion of “Corn-Pone Opinions” (Fulton 2005).