I haveⒶapparatus note to make several speeches within the next two or three months, and I have been obliged to make a few speeches during the last two monthsⒺexplanatory note—and all of a sudden it is borne in upon me that people who go out that way to make speeches at gatherings of one kind or another, and at social banquets particularly, put themselves to an unnecessary amount of trouble, often, in the way of preparation. As a rule, your speech at a social banquet is not an important part of your equipment for that occasion, for the reason that as a rule the banquet is merely given to celebrate some event of merely momentary interest,Ⓐapparatus note or to do honor to some guest of distinction,—and so there is nothing of large consequence—Ⓐapparatus notenothing, I mean, that one should feel bound to concentrateⒶapparatus note himself upon in talking upon such an occasion, whereas the really [begin page 255] important matter, perhaps, is that the speaker make himself reasonably interesting while he is on his feet,Ⓐapparatus note and avoid wearying and exasperatingⒶapparatus note the people who are not privileged to make speeches, and also not privilegedⒶapparatus note to get out of the way when other people begin. So,Ⓐapparatus note common charity for those people should require that the speaker make some kind of preparation, instead of going to the place absolutely empty.
TheⒶapparatus note person who makes frequent speeches can’t afford much time for their preparation, and he probably goes to that place empty,Ⓐapparatus note (just as I am in the habit of doing),Ⓐapparatus note purposing to gather texts from other unprepared people who are going to speak before he speaks. Now it is perfectly true that if you can get yourself located along about No.Ⓐapparatus note 3, and from that lower down on the programⒶapparatus note, it can be depended on with certainty that one or another of those previous speakers will furnish all the texts needed. In fact you are likely to have more texts than you do need, and so they can become an embarrassment. You would like to talk to all of those texts, and of course that is a dangerous thing. You should choose one of them and talk to that one—and it is a hundred to one that before you have been on your feet two minutes you will wish you had taken the other one. You will get away from the one you have chosen,Ⓐapparatus note because you will perceive that there was another one that was better.
I am reminded of this old, old fact in my experienceⒶapparatus note by what happened the other night at TheⒶapparatus note Players, where twenty-two of my friends of ancient days in the Players Club gave me a dinnerⒺexplanatory note in testimony of their satisfaction in having me back again after an absence of three years, occasioned by the stupidity of the Board of Management of that Club—a Board which had been in office ever since the founding of the ClubⒶapparatus note; and if it were not the same old Board that they had in the beginning it amounted to the sameⒺexplanatory note, because they must have been chosen, from time to time, from the same asylumⒶapparatus note that had furnished the original Board.
OnⒶapparatus note this occasion Brander MatthewsⒺexplanatory note was chairman, and he opened the proceedings with an easy and comfortableⒶapparatus note and felicitous speech. Brander is always prepared and competent when he is going to make a speech. Then he called up Gilder, who came empty, and probably supposed he was going to be able to fill from Brander’s tank, whereas he struck a disappointment. He labored through and sat down not entirely defeated, but a good deal crippled. Frank Millet (painter)Ⓔexplanatory note was next called up. He struggled along through his remarks, exhibiting two things—one, that he had prepared, and couldn’t remember the details of his preparation, and the other that his text was a poor text. In his talk the main sign of preparation was that he tried to recite two considerable batches of poetry—good poetry—but he lost confidence and turned it into bad poetry by bad recitation. Sculpture was to have been represented, and Saint-Gaudens had accepted and had promised a speech, but at the last moment he was not able to come, and a man who was thoroughly unprepared had to get up and make a speech in Saint-Gaudens’s placeⒺexplanatory note. He did not hit upon anything original or disturbing in his remarks, and, in fact, they were so totteringⒶapparatus note and hesitating and altogether commonplace that really he seemed to have hit upon something new and fresh when he finished by saying that he had not been expecting to be called upon to make a speech! I could have finished his speech for him,Ⓐapparatus note I had heard it so many times.
Those people were unfortunate because they were thinkingⒶapparatus note —that is Millet and Gilder were—all the time that Matthews was speaking—they were trying to keep in mind the little [begin page 256] preparations which they had made, and thisⒶapparatus note prevented them from getting something new and fresh in the way of a text out of what Brander was saying. In the same way Millet was stillⒶapparatus note thinking about his preparation while Gilder was talking,Ⓐapparatus note and so he overlooked possible texts furnished by Gilder. But as I had asked Matthews to put me last on the list of speakers, I had all the advantages possible to the occasion. For I came without a text, and these boys furnished plenty of textsⒶapparatus note for meⒺexplanatory note, because my mind was not absorbed in trying to remember my preparations—they didn’t exist. I spoiled, in a degree, Brander’s speech, because his speech had been prepared with direct reference to introducing me, the guest of the occasion—and he had to turn that all around and get out of it, which he did very gracefully, explaining that his speech was a little lop-sidedⒶapparatus note and wrong end first because I had asked to be placed last in the list of speakers. I had a plenty good enough time, because Gilder had furnished me a text; Brander had furnished me a text; Millet had furnished me a text. These texts were fresh, hot from the bat, and they produced the same eager disposition to take hold of them and talk that they would have produced in ordinary conversation around a table in a beer mill.
Now then,Ⓐapparatus note I know how banquet-speechesⒶapparatus note should be projected, because I have been thinking over this matter. This is my plan. Where it is merely a social banquet for a good time—such as the one which I am to attend in Washington on the 27th, where the company will consist of the membership of the Gridiron Club,Ⓐapparatus note (newspaper correspondents exclusively, I think) with as guests the President and Vice-President of the United StatesⒺexplanatory note and two others—certainly that is an occasion where a person will be privileged to talk about any subject except politics and theology, and even if he is asked to talk to a toast he needn’t pay any attention to the toast, but talk about anything. Now then, the idea is this—to take the newspaper of that day, or the newspaper of that evening, and glance over the headings in the telegraphic page—a perfect bonanza of texts, you see!Ⓐapparatus note I think a person could pull that day’s newspaper out of his pocket and talk that companyⒶapparatus note to death before he would run out of material. If it were to-day, you have the Morris incident. And that reminds me how unexcitingⒶapparatus note the Morris incident will be two or three years from now—maybe six months from now—and yet what an irritating thing it is to-day, and has been for the past few days. It brings home to one this large fact: that the events of life are mainly small events—they only seem large when we are close to them. By and by they settle down and we see that one doesn’t show above another. They are all about one general low altitude, and inconsequential. If you should set down every day, by shorthand, as we are doing now, the happenings of the previous day, with the intention of making out of the massed result an autobiography, it would take from one to two hours—and from that to four hours—to set down the autobiographical matter of that one day, and the result would be a consumption of from five to forty thousand words. It would be a volume. Now one must not imagine that because it has taken all day Tuesday to write up the autobiographical matter of Monday, thereⒶapparatus note will be nothing to write on Wednesday. No, there will be just as much to write on Wednesday as Monday had furnished for Tuesday. And that is because life does not consist mainly—or even largely—of facts and happenings. It consists mainly of the storm of thoughts that is forever blowing through one’s head. Could you set them down stenographically? No. Could you set down any considerable fraction of them stenographically? No. FifteenⒶapparatus note stenographers hard at work couldn’t keep up. Therefore a full autobiography has never been written, and it never will [begin page 257] be. It would consist of three hundred and sixty-five double-size volumes per year—and so if I had been doing my whole autobiographical duty ever since my youth all theⒶapparatus note library buildings on the earth could notⒶapparatus note contain the result.
I wonder what the Morris incidentⒺexplanatory note will look like in history fifty years from now. Consider these circumstances: that here at our own doors the mighty insurance upheaval has not settled down to a level yet. Even yesterday, and day before, the discredited millionaire insurance magnates had not all been flung out and buried from sight under the maledictions of the nation, but some of the McCurdies, McCalls, Depews, Hydes, and Alexanders were still lingering in positions of trust, such asⒶapparatus note directorships in banksⒺexplanatory note. Also we have to-day the whole nation’s attention centredⒶapparatus note upon the Standard Oil CorporationⒶapparatus note, the most prodigious commercial force existing upon the planet. All the American world are standing breathless and wondering if the Standard Oil is going to come out of its MissourianⒶapparatus note battle crippled, and if crippled, how much crippledⒺexplanatory note. Also we have Congress threatening to overhaul the Panama Canal Commission to see what it has done with the fifty-nine millions, and to find out what it proposes to do with the recently added eleven millionsⒺexplanatory note. Also there are three or four other matters of colossal public interest on the board to-day. And on the other side of the ocean we have Church and State separated in FranceⒺexplanatory note; we have a threat of war between France and Germany upon the Morocco questionⒺexplanatory note; we have a crushed revolution in Russia, with the Czar and his family of thieves—the grand dukes—recovering from their long fright and beginning to butcher the remnants of the revolutionaries in the old confident way that was the Russian way in former days for three centuriesⒺexplanatory note; we have China furnishing a solemn and awful mystery. Nobody knows what it is, but we are sending three regiments in a hurry from the Philippines to China, under the generalship of Funston, the man who captured Aguinaldo by methods which would disgrace the lowest blatherskite that is doing time in any penitentiary. Nobody seems to know what the Chinese mystery is, but everybody seems to think that a giant convulsion is impending thereⒺexplanatory note.
That is the menu as it stands to-day. These are the things which offer themselves to the world’s attention to-day. Apparently they are large enough to leave no space for smaller matters, yet the Morris incident comes up and blots the whole thing outⒶapparatus note. The Morris incident is making a flurry in Congress, and for several days now it has been rioting through the imagination of the American nation and setting every tongue afire with excited talk. ThisⒶapparatus note autobiography will notⒶapparatus note see the light of print until after my death. I do not know when that is going to happen, and do not feel a large interest in the matter anywayⒶapparatus note. It may be some years yet, but if it does not occur within the next three months I am confident that by that time the nation,Ⓐapparatus note encountering the MorrisⒶapparatus note incident in my autobiography,Ⓐapparatus note would be trying to remember what the incidentⒶapparatus note was, and not succeeding. That incident, which is so large to-day, will be soⒶapparatus note small three or four months from now it will thenⒶapparatus note have taken its place with the abortiveⒶapparatus note Russian revolutionⒶapparatus note and these other large matters, and nobody will be able to tell one from the other by difference of size.
This is the Morris incident.Ⓐapparatus note A Mrs. Morris, a lady of culture, refinement, and position, called at the White House and asked for a moment’s conversation with President Roosevelt. Mr. Barnes,Ⓐapparatus note one of the private secretaries, declined to send in her card, and said that she couldn’t see the President, that he was busy. She said she would wait. Barnes wanted to know what her [begin page 258] errand was, and she said thatⒶapparatus note some time ago her husband had been dismissed from the public service and she wanted to get the President to look into his case. Barnes,Ⓐapparatus note finding that it was a military case, suggested that she go to the Secretary of War. She said she had been to the War Office but could not get admission to the Secretary—she had tried every means she could think of, but had failed. Now she had been advised by the wife of a member of the Cabinet to ask for a moment’s interview with the President.
Well, without going into a multiplicity of details, the general result was that Barnes still persisted in saying that she could not see the President, and he also persisted in inviting her, in the circumstances, to go away. She was quiet, but she still insisted onⒶapparatus note remaining until she could see the President. Then the “Morris incident”Ⓐapparatus note happened. At a sign from Barnes a couple of policemen on guard there rushed forward and seized this lady, and began to drag her out of the place. She was frightened, and she screamed. Barnes says she screamed repeatedly, and in a way which “aroused the whole White House”Ⓐapparatus note—though nobody came to see what was happening. This might give the impression that this was something that was happening six or seven times a day, since it didn’t cause any excitement. But this was not so. Barnes has been a private secretary long enough to work his imagination, probably, and that accounts for most of the screaming—though the lady did someⒶapparatus note of it herself, as she concedes. The woman was dragged out of the White House. She says that in the course of dragging her along the roadway her clothes were soiled with mud and someⒶapparatus note of them stripped in rags from her back. A negro gathered up her anclesⒶapparatus note, and so relieved her from contact with the ground. He supporting her by the ancles,Ⓐapparatus note and the two policemen carrying her at the other end, they conveyed her to a place—Ⓐapparatus noteapparently a police station of some kind, a couple of blocks away—and she was dripping portemonnaies and keys, and one thing or another, along the road, and honest people were picking them up and fetching them along. Barnes entered a charge against her of insanity. Apparently the police inspector regarded that as rather a serious charge, and asⒶapparatus note he probably had not had one like it before and did not quite know how it ought to be handled, he wouldⒶapparatus note not allow her to be delivered to her friends until she had deposited five dollars in his till. No doubt this was to keep her from disappearing from the United States—and he might want to take up this serious charge presently and thresh it out.
That lady still lies in her bed at the principal hotel in Washington, disabled by the shock, and naturally very indignant at the treatment which she has receivedⒶapparatus note—but her calm and mild, unexcited and well worded account of her adventure is convincing evidence that she was not insane, even to the moderate extent of five dollars’ worth.
There you have the factsⒺexplanatory note. It is as I have said—for a number of days they have occupied almost the entire attention of the American nation; they have swept the RussianⒶapparatus note revolution out of sight, the China mystery, and all the rest of it. It is this sort of thing which makes the rightⒶapparatus note material of an autobiography. You set the incident down which for the moment is to you the most interesting. If you leave it alone three or four weeks you wonder why you ever thought of setting such a thing down—it has no value, no importance. The champagne that made you drunk with delight or exasperation at the time has all passed away; it is stale. But thatⒶapparatus note is what human life consists of—little incidents and big incidents, and they are all of the same size if we let them alone. An autobiography that leaves out the little things and enumerates only the [begin page 259] big ones is no proper picture of the man’s life at all; his life consists of his feelings and his interests, with here and there an incident apparently big or little to hang the feelings on.
That Morris incident will presently have no importance whatever, and yet the biographer of President Roosevelt will find it immensely valuable if he will consider it—examine it—and be sagacious enough to perceive that it throws a great deal of light upon the President’s characterⒺexplanatory note. Certainly a biography’sⒶapparatus note chiefest feature is the exhibition of the character of the man whose biography is being set forth. Roosevelt’s biographer will light up the President’s career step by step, mile after mile, through his life’s course, with illuminating episodes and incidents. He should set one of the lamps by the Morris incident, for it indicates character. It is a thing which probably could not have happened in the White House under any other President who has ever occupied those premises. Washington wouldn’t call the police and throw a lady out over the fence! I don’t mean that Roosevelt would. I mean that Washington wouldn’t have any BarnesesⒶapparatus note in his official family. It is the Roosevelts that have the BarnesesⒶapparatus note aroundⒺexplanatory note. That private secretary was perfectly right in refusing access to the President—the President can’t see everybody on everybody’s private affairs, and it is quite proper,Ⓐapparatus note then, that he should refuse to see anybody on a private affair—treat all the nation alike. That is a thing which has been done, of course, from the beginning until now—people have always been refused admission to the President on private matters, every day, from Washington’s time to ours. The secretaries have always carried their point; Mr. Barnes carried his. But, according to the president in office at the time, the methods have varied—one president’s secretary has managed it in one way, another president’s secretary has managed it in another way—but it never would have occurred to any previous secretary to manage it by throwing the lady over the fence.
Theodore Roosevelt is one of the most impulsive men in existence. That is the reason why he has impulsive secretaries. President Roosevelt probably never thinks of the right way to do anything. That is why he has private secretariesⒶapparatus note who are not able to think of the right way to do anything. We naturally gather about usⒶapparatus note people whose ways and dispositions agree with our own. Mr. Roosevelt is one of the most likableⒶapparatus note men that I am acquainted with. I have known him, and have occasionally met him, dined in his company, lunched in his company,Ⓐapparatus note for certainly twenty years. I always enjoy his society, he is so hearty, so straightforward, outspoken, and soⒶapparatus note absolutely sincere. These qualities endear him to me when he is acting in his capacity of private citizen—Ⓐapparatus notethey endear him to all his friends. But when he is acting under their impulse as President, they make of him a sufficiently queer president. He flies from one thing to another with incredible dispatch—throws a somersault and is straightwayⒶapparatus note back again where he was last week. He will then throw some more somersaults and nobody can foretellⒶapparatus note where he is finallyⒶapparatus note going to land after the series.Ⓐapparatus note Each act of his, and each opinion expressed,Ⓐapparatus note isⒶapparatus note likely to abolish or controvert some previous act or expressed opinionⒺexplanatory note. This is what is happening to him all the time as PresidentⒶapparatus note. But every opinion that he expresses is certainly his sincere opinion at that moment, and it is as certainly not the opinion which he was carrying around in his system three or four weeks earlier, and which was just as sincere and honest as the latest one. No, he can’t be accused of insincerity—that is not the trouble. His trouble is that his newest interest is the one that absorbs him; absorbs the whole of him from his head to his feet, and for the time being it annihilates all previous opinions and feelings and convictions.Ⓐapparatus note He is the most [begin page 260] popular human being that has ever existed in the United States, and that popularity springs from just these enthusiasms of his—these joyous ebullitionsⒶapparatus note of excited sincerityⒺexplanatory note. It makes him so much like the rest of the people. They see themselves reflected in him. They also see that his impulses are not oftenⒶapparatus note mean. They are almost alwaysⒶapparatus note large, fine, generousⒶapparatus note. He can’t stick to one of them long enough to find out what kind of a chick it would hatch if it had a chance, but everybody recognizes the generosity of the intentionⒶapparatus note and they admire it and love him for it.
I have to make several speeches . . . last two months] Between 10 November 1905 and 11 April 1906, Clemens spoke on at least twenty-five occasions. The events included a Washington, D.C., dinner attended by members of the Roosevelt administration (25 November); his own seventieth birthday dinner (5 December); a benefit for Russian Jews (18 December); a dinner for him at The Players (3 January); a Tuskegee Institute fundraiser at Carnegie Hall (22 January); a meeting of the Gridiron Club in Washington, attended by Theodore Roosevelt (27 January); remarks on copyright to the House of Representatives (29 January); a New York Press Club dinner in memory of Charles Dickens (8 February); a Barnard College reception (7 March); a meeting of the New York State Association for Promoting the Interests of the Blind (29 March); a Vassar College Students’ Aid Society benefit (2 April); and a dinner for Russian author Maxim Gorky (11 April) (see Schmidt 2008a for a full list; texts of several of the speeches can be found in Fatout 1976; New York Times: “Choate and Twain Plead for Tuskegee,” 23 Jan 1906, 1; “President in ‘Panama’ Has a Jolly Time,” 28 Jan 1906, 4; “Twain on Rockefeller, Jr.,” 8 Feb 1906, 9; “Three New Plays at Vassar Aid Benefit,” 3 Apr 1906, 9; “Gorky and Mark Twain Plead for Revolution,” 12 Apr 1906, 4).
my friends of ancient days in the Players Club gave me a dinner] The dinner for Clemens was held on 3 January 1906 at a house at 16 Gramercy Park in New York, which actor Edwin Booth (1833–93) had given to the club for its headquarters. Booth had conceived of the club as a place where actors could “associate on intimate and equal terms with the foremost authors, painters, sculptors, architects, musicians, editors, publishers, and patrons of the arts” (Lanier 1938, 47). Clemens was a charter member and had attended the organizational luncheon convened by Booth at Delmonico’s restaurant on 6 January 1888. Walter Oettel, Edwin Booth’s former valet and the longtime majordomo of The Players club, recalled that at the 3 January 1906 dinner “the table decorations and favors were stuffed frogs, à propos of his tale, ‘The Jumping Frog.’ ” Oettel reported that the dinner was hosted by some two dozen club members, among them Brander Matthews (see the note at 255.24), who presided; John H. Finley (1863–1940), author, former Harper’s Weekly editor, and president of City College of New York; Daniel Frohman (see the note at 255.19–22); poet and Century Magazine editor Richard Watson Gilder (see “About General Grant’s Memoirs,” note at 77 footnote); poet and Century Magazine associate editor Robert Underwood Johnson (1853–1937); Francis D. Millet (see the note at 255.28–29); David A. Munro, who was unable to attend (see AD, 16 Jan 1906, and note at 284.7); Albert Bigelow Paine; and Robert Reid (see AD, 16 Jan 1906, note at 284.7–8; Oettel 1943, 53–54, 94; N&J3, 429 n. 73; Lanier 1938, passim; “Players Dine Mark Twain,” New York Times, 4 Jan 1906, 2).
an absence of three years, occasioned by the stupidity of the Board . . . it amounted to the same] The original board members were Booth; actor Lawrence Barrett (1838–91); merchant William Bispham (d. 1909); brothers Augustin (1838–99) and Joseph F. Daly (1840–1916), the former an eminent playwright, producer, and theater owner, the latter a lawyer and judge; actor Henry Edwards (d. 1891); dramatic critic, biographer, and Harper’s Magazine literary editor Laurence Hutton (1843–1904); actor Joseph Jefferson (1829–1905); and theatrical manager Albert M. Palmer (1838–1905). Bispham, Joseph F. Daly, Jefferson, and Palmer were still on the board in 1903 when Clemens withdrew from the club (see AD, 21 Mar 1906, for Clemens’s further account of his “expulsion”). The other board members then were author Charles E. Carryl (1841–1920); actor John Drew (1853–1927); theatrical manager and producer Daniel Frohman (1851–1940); actor and theatrical manager Frank W. Sanger (1849–1904); and actor Francis Wilson (1854–1935). Carryl had sent Clemens a form letter, dated 12 January 1903, expelling him for “non-payment of dues.” In the top margin of the letter Clemens wrote: “Expelled! (by the mistake of an idiot Secretary)” (CU-MARK). The invitation to return, sent on 10 November 1904, slightly misquoted Carolina Oliphant’s popular lyric, addressed to Bonnie Prince Charlie: “Will ye no com back again? / Better lo’ed ye canna be” (Reid et al. to SLC, NNWH). On 11 November Clemens replied, on mourning stationery, “Surely those lovely verses went to Prince Charlie’s heart, if he had one, & certainly they have gone to mine. I shall be glad & proud to come back again. . . . It will be many months before I can foregather with you, for this black border is not perfunctory, not a convention; it symbolizes the loss of one whose memory is the only thing I worship” (11 Nov 1904 to Reid and The Players, NNWH). In her 1906 diary, Lyon noted Clemens’s triumphant return from the dinner:
Mr Clemens has just come home at midnight, from a dinner at “The Players” where he was made an honorary member. It was a great night for all the rest of them, because he had stayed away so long.
At midnight he stood at the foot of my flight of stairs in happy mood, with a Japanese paper frog hanging by a hind leg from his coat lapel, & this he handed to me as I went down the stairs to greet him. He knew I would be up & waiting to register his safe return. (Lyon 1906, unnumbered leaf inserted after p. 2)
Brander Matthews] Matthews (1852–1929), a prominent writer and critic, was a professor of literature and drama at Columbia University (1892–1924). He and Clemens first met in March 1883 when Clemens joined the Kinsmen club, of which Matthews was a founding member (see “Travel-Scraps I,” note at 113.10). In 1887 and 1888 the two men had disagreed in print about international copyright, which placed a temporary strain on their friendship. In 1922 Matthews recalled that episode and other details of their acquaintance in “Memories of Mark Twain” (Matthews 1922; see also Matthews 1917, 231, and N&J3, 345–46, 348, 362–68, 373).
Frank Millet (painter)] Francis D. Millet (1846–1912) was born in Massachusetts. He earned a degree in literature from Harvard University, but decided to study art in Antwerp, Venice, and Rome. He later served as an artist-correspondent during the Russo-Turkish War (1877–78). Many of his portraits and murals depicted historical subjects. He died on the Titanic.
Sculpture . . . make a speech in Saint-Gaudens’s place] Sculptor Augustus Saint-Gaudens (see AD, 16 Jan 1906, note at 284.7–8) was one of three Players who were unable to attend and sent telegrams of regret; the others were David Munro and author Thomas Bailey Aldrich (see “Robert Louis Stevenson and Thomas Bailey Aldrich”). It is not known who spoke extemporaneously “in Saint-Gaudens’s place” (“Players Welcome Mark Twain,” New York Tribune, 4 Jan 1906, 7).
For I came without a text, and these boys furnished plenty of texts for me] The texts of the other speeches have not been found. Clemens “told the amusing story of English Mary,” which is reprinted in his “Speech at The Players, 3 January 1906” (Oettel 1943, 54–57; see the Appendix, pp. 662–63). Clemens had first told this story in three letters of 17 July 1877 to his wife in Elmira, as the actual events were unfolding in their Hartford household. In 1897 or 1898 he fictionalized the episode in a tale he called “Wapping Alice,” which he did not succeed in publishing in his lifetime. Then he reworked it again in his Autobiographical Dictation of 10 April 1907 (for the early versions see SLC 1981, 7–24, 39–67). Appropriately, he read the “Jumping Frog” story (SLC 1865) as an encore.
one which I am to attend in Washington on the 27th . . . President and Vice-President of the United States] At the 27 January annual dinner of the Gridiron Club, a prestigious and convivial journalistic society organized in 1885, “Mr. Samuel L. Clemens was in his happiest vein, and spoke for nearly twenty minutes. He was introduced by an alleged roustabout on a Mississippi steamboat who heaved the lead and shouted ‘mark twain’ as he reported the depth of the water” (“A Night in Panama,” Washington Post, 28 Jan 1906, 1, 6). The Gridiron Club forbade reporting of speeches, and no text of Clemens’s remarks is known to survive. President Theodore Roosevelt also spoke, as did other members of his administration, and numerous congressmen and other luminaries attended, but Vice-President Charles W. Fairbanks (1852–1918) was not among them.
Morris incident] See Clemens’s account below and the note at 258.34.
Even yesterday . . . in banks] On 6 September 1905, a New York State legislative committee had begun an investigation of longtime and widespread abuses in the life insurance industry, including extravagant executive salaries; illegal political contributions, both to finance electoral campaigns (especially to Republican presidential candidates) and to influence legislation; illicit dealing in stocks and bonds; and entangling alliances with banks. The investigation—reported exhaustively in the New York press—focused primarily on the Mutual Reserve Life Insurance Company, the New York Life Insurance Company, and the Equitable Life Assurance Society. On 22 February 1906 the committee issued its report to the New York State legislature, along with twenty-five proposed reform bills, all of which were signed into law by 27 April 1906. The executives who came under fire were Richard A. McCurdy and his son Robert H. McCurdy, president and foreign manager, respectively, of Mutual Life (these two, and the senior McCurdy’s son-in-law, collected $4,643,926 in salaries and commissions between 1885 and 1905); John A. McCall and his son John C. McCall, president and secretary, respectively, of New York Life; Chauncey M. Depew, Republican senator from New York and for years the highly paid special counsel of Equitable Life and a member of its executive committee; and James W. Alexander and James H. Hyde, president and first vice-president of Equitable Life, respectively. The influence of these men extended far beyond the three insurance companies. In October 1905, for example, Hyde was reported to be a director of forty-five corporations and Depew a director of seventy-four. As a result of the investigation at least some of those connections were severed. By 10 January 1906 the McCurdys, Depew, the elder McCall, Alexander, and Hyde had all resigned from—or failed to be reelected to—bank directorships (New York Times, numerous articles, 15 Aug 1905–28 Apr 1906). Clemens returns to the subject in his Autobiographical Dictation of 16 February 1906.
we have to-day . . . Standard Oil Corporation . . . how much crippled] The Standard Oil Company and its subsidiaries were being sued in the New York Supreme Court by Missouri Attorney General Herbert S. Hadley, in support of his ongoing suits in Missouri courts for Standard’s violation of that state’s antitrust laws. On 10 January 1906, the New York Times reported at length on the previous day’s New York proceedings, highlighting the evasive testimony and arrogant demeanor of the vice-president of Standard Oil, Clemens’s good friend Henry H. Rogers (New York Times: “H. H. Rogers Summoned to the Supreme Court,” 10 Jan 1906, 1; “Herbert S. Hadley—the Man from Missouri,” 14 Jan 1906, SM4; see also “Henry H. Rogers”).
we have Congress threatening to overhaul the Panama Canal Commission . . . recently added eleven millions] In mid-December 1905 Congress had “added” $11 million to the $59 million already expended since 1904 on preparatory work and to acquire the rights and assets of the failed French Panama Canal company. Nevertheless, the New York Times observed on 21 December, the commission had “not yet decided what kind of canal it will build. Neither the engineers nor the Commissioners know whether we are to spend $150,000,000 more, or $200,000,000 more. Nobody knows how much the canal will cost.” On 9 January 1906, the Senate voted to investigate “all matters relating to the Panama Canal.” Actual construction began later in 1906. The canal opened in 1914, at a total cost of about $375 million (New York Times: “Money for the Canal,” 12 Dec 1905, 8; “Taft Agrees to Accept $11,000,000 for Canal,” 13 Dec 1905, 4; “A Rooseveltian Episode,” 21 Dec 1905, 8; “Panama Investigation Voted by the Senate,” 10 Jan 1906, 4; “The President’s Responsibility,” 22 Jan 1906, 6; Panama Canal Authority 2008).
Church and State separated in France] A bill providing for the separation had become effective on 7 December 1905. It marked “the culmination of the strained relations which have long existed between the French Government and the Vatican” and ended a system dating “from 1801, when the Concordat was signed by Pius VII. and Napoleon. Under the Concordat the churches were Government property, and the clergy was paid by the State.” The change was not universally welcomed: there was rioting and other protest “encouraged and indirectly fomented by leaders of the anti-Republican Party, and probably to some extent by the priests of the Roman Church” (New York Times: “End of State Church Declared in France,” 7 Dec 1905, 8; “The Religious Troubles in France,” 4 Feb 1906, 6).
we have a threat . . . Morocco question] Since late 1905 France and Germany had been moving toward war over political control of (and commercial access to) Morocco. Germany had not joined a 1904 agreement in which Great Britain, Spain, and Italy had accepted French domination, and now objected to France’s “special privileges”—especially in policing the country (New York Times: “The Conference of Algeciras,” 6 Jan 1906, 8; “Clash in Moroccan Conference Expected,” 7 Jan 1906, 3). The conflict was resolved diplomatically on 31 March 1906 with a new agreement, largely brokered by the United States, that addressed the commercial issues and provided for shared police responsibility without undermining French hegemony (“Morocco Conference Ends with Agreement,” New York Times, 1 Apr 1906, 4).
we have a crushed revolution in Russia . . . three centuries] The Russian Revolution of 1905 began in January, on “Bloody Sunday,” when troops fired on a peaceful protest march in St. Petersburg, killing more than a thousand participants. Rebellion against the tyranny of Tsar Nicholas II (1868–1918) then spread, culminating in September and October of that year in a general strike that paralyzed the entire country. Nicholas was forced to issue his October Manifesto, providing for a parliament and freedom of speech, the press, and assembly. He soon reneged on these reforms, however, and by December 1905 the revolt was over, with its leaders under arrest.
we have China furnishing a solemn and awful mystery . . . convulsion is impending there] In January 1906 a “curious unrest in parts of China” seemed “a puzzle” to the Western world: “There are two elements clearly enough present in this feeling. One is distrust and dislike of foreigners from the Occident; the other is discontent with the Imperial Government. But it is by no means certain that each of these sentiments is felt by all who feel the other” (“The Outlook in China,” New York Times, 8 Jan 1906, 8). It was feared that there might even be “a general uprising of the people against the entire political system of the empire.” Consequently, two U.S. infantry regiments and two batteries of field artillery were dispatched to the Philippines (which the United States had controlled since the end of the Spanish-American War in 1898), to be ready in the event that troops had to be “landed in China for the protection of American lives and property” (“America Preparing for Crash in China,” New York Times, 7 Jan 1906, 1). One of the infantry brigades was under the command of General Frederick Funston, who captured Emilio Aguinaldo, the leader of the Filipino insurgents (see AD, 14 Mar 1906, 408.30–42 and note). Although China remained newsworthy well into 1906, the anticipated explosion did not come and no U.S. brigades were sent.
There you have the facts] Clemens’s account is consistent in its details with the report in the New York Times of 5 January 1906 (“Drag Hull’s Sister from White House,” 1). On 4 January Mrs. Minor Morris had gone to the White House, hoping to convince President Theodore Roosevelt to intervene to have her physician husband restored to his post at the Army Medical Bureau, from which he had been abruptly dismissed. She alleged that the dismissal had been instigated by her brother, Republican Congressman John A. T. Hull of Iowa, with whom Mrs. Morris was bitterly disputing the settlement of their father’s estate. After she was carried and dragged from the White House at the order of Benjamin F. Barnes, an assistant presidential secretary, she was imprisoned on a charge of disorderly conduct. To prevent her immediate release on bail, a charge of insanity also was brought against her. After two examining physicians pronounced her sane, however, she was released after several hours and allowed to return to her room at the Willard Hotel, where she was soon under medical care for bruising, shock, and nervous prostration. Her own “calm and mild, unexcited and well worded account” of the incident appeared in the New York Times on 6 January (“Mrs. Morris Tells of White House Expulsion,” 1). The Morris incident remained a national cause célèbre for more than six months, with attempts at congressional inquiries, all deflected, and with repeated calls for the president to accept responsibility, disavow Barnes’s actions, and apologize, all rejected. In April Roosevelt confirmed his faith in Barnes by appointing him Washington postmaster. And in May, during Barnes’s Senate confirmation hearings, the White House was charged with using false testimony, from a physician who never actually treated Mrs. Morris, to impugn her reputation and question her sanity (New York Times: numerous articles, Jan–June 1906).
Morris incident . . . the President’s character] In the margin of the typescript alongside this passage, Paine wrote, “Not to be used for 50 years from 1920—.” Nevertheless, he included the passage in his 1924 edition of Mark Twain’s Autobiography ( MTA, 1:288).
It is the Roosevelts that have the Barneses around] Clemens was not alone in seeing Roosevelt’s imperiousness behind Barnes’s behavior. The Hartford Times, for example, condemned the “new spirit of high mightiness in the White House, which differs widely from anything which has been seen there heretofore” (“From the Hartford Times,” New York Times, 12 Jan 1906, 8).
He flies from one thing to another . . . opinion] On 7 January 1906, Lyon recorded in her diary another of Clemens’s vivid descriptions of Roosevelt: “This morning Mr. Clemens was speaking of Roosevelt & his great blustering—& he said that ‘he is magnificent when his ears are pricked up & his tail is in the air & he attacks a lightning express, only to be lost in the dust the express creates’ ” (Lyon 1906, 7).
these joyous ebullitions of excited sincerity] Clemens was not always so tolerant of Roosevelt’s “opinions and feelings and convictions.” In 1907, in his copy of a volume of Roosevelt’s “ideas expressed on many occasions,” Clemens altered the title page from A Square Deal to “BANALITIES,” and the title of the publisher’s introductory remarks from “Foreword” to “A PUKE BY A DISINTERESTED PUBLISHER” (Roosevelt 1906, volume in CU-MARK). He was always careful, however, to avoid any public criticism, as he explained in a letter to his daughter Clara in February 1910:
Roosevelt closed my mouth years ago with a deeply valued, gratefully received, unasked favor; & with all my bitter detestation of him I have never been able to say a venomous thing about him in print since—that benignant deed always steps in the way & lays its consecrated hand upon my lips. I ought not to allow it to do this; & I am ashamed of allowing it, but I cannot help it, since I am made in that way, & did not make myself. (21, 22, and 23 Feb 1906 to CC, photocopy in CU-MARK)
Autobiographical Dictation, 10 January 1906 ❉ Textual Commentary
Source documents.
TS1 Typescript, leaves numbered [1]–20 (renumbered in pencil 16–35), made from Hobby’s notes and revised.TS2 Typescript, leaves numbered 161–77, made from the revised TS1 and further revised.
The typed page numbers on TS1 were renumbered 16–35 by hand. On the verso of the last page of TS1 Hobby wrote a calculation of her wages: $3.60 for recording 100 minutes of dictation and typing about 4,000 words. In the margin of the first pages of TS2 Clemens wrote, ‘Not usable yet’.