SusyⒶapparatus note Clemens’s BiographyⒶapparatus note of her father—Mr. Clemens’s opinion of critics, etc.
When SusyⒶapparatus note was thirteen, and was a slender little maid with plaitedⒶapparatus note tails of copper-tinged brown hair down her back, and was perhaps the busiest bee in the household hive, by reason of the manifold studies, health exercises and recreations she had to attend to, she secretly, and of her own motion, and out of love, added another task to her labors—the writing of a biography of meⒺexplanatory note. She did this work in her bedroomⒶapparatus note at night, and kept her record hidden. After a little,Ⓐapparatus note the mother discovered it and filched it, and let me see it; then told SusyⒶapparatus note what she had done, and how pleased I was, and how proud. I remember that time with a deep pleasure. I had had compliments before, but none that touched me like this; none that could approach it for value in my eyes. It has kept that place always since. I have had no compliment, no praise, no tribute from any source, that was so precious to me as this one was and still is. As I read it now, after all these many years, it is still a king’s message to me, and brings me the same dear surprise it brought me then—with the pathos added,Ⓐapparatus note of the thought that the eager and hasty hand that sketched it and scrawled itⒶapparatus note will not touch mine again—and I feel as the humble and unexpectant must feel when their eyes fall upon the edict that raises them to the ranks of the noble.
Yesterday while I was rummaging in a pile of ancient note-books of mine which I had not seen for years, I came across a reference to that biography. It is quite evident that several times, at breakfast and dinner, in those long pastⒶapparatus note days, I was posing for the biography. In fact, I clearly remember that I was doing that—and I also remember that SusyⒶapparatus note detected it. I remember saying [begin page 338] a very smart thing, with a good deal of an air, at the breakfast tableⒶapparatus note one morning, and that SusyⒶapparatus note observed to her mother privately, a little later, that papa was doing that for the biography.
I cannot bring myself to change any line or word in Susy’sⒶapparatus note sketch of me, but will introduce passages from it now and thenⒶapparatus note just as theyⒶapparatus note came in theirⒶapparatus note quaint simplicity out of her honest heart, which was the beautiful heart of a child. What comes from that source has a charm and grace of its own which may transgress all the recognized laws of literature, if it choose, and yet be literature still, and worthy of hospitality. I shall print the whole of this little biographyⒺexplanatory note, before I am done with it—every word, every sentence.Ⓐapparatus note
The spelling is frequently desperate, but it was Susy’sⒶapparatus note, and it shall standⒺexplanatory note. I love it, and cannot profane it. To me, it is gold. To correct it would alloy it, not refine it. It would spoil it. It would take from it its freedom and flexibility and make it stiff and formal. Even when it is most extravagant I am not shocked. It is Susy’sⒶapparatus note spelling, and she was doing the best she could—and nothing could better it for me.Ⓐapparatus note
She learned languages easily; she learned history easily; she learned music easily; she learned all things easily, quickly, and thoroughly—except spelling. She even learned that, after a while. But it would have grieved me but little if she had failed in it—for although good spelling was my one accomplishment I was never able to greatly respect it. When I was a schoolboyⒶapparatus note, sixty years ago, we had two prizes in our school. One was for good spelling, the other for amiability. These things were thin, smooth, silverⒶapparatus note disks, about the size of a dollar. Upon the one was engraved in flowing Italian script the words “Good SpellingⒶapparatus note,” on the other was engraved the word “Amiability.” The holders of these prizes hung them about the neck with a string—and those holders were the envy of the whole school. There wasn’t a pupil that wouldn’t have given a leg for the privilege of wearing one of them a week, but no pupil ever got a chance except John Robards and me. John Robards was eternally and indestructibly amiable. I may even say devilishly amiable; fiendishly amiable; exasperatingly amiable. That was the sort of feeling that we had about that quality of his. So he always wore the amiability medal. I always wore the other medal. That word “always” is a trifle too strong. We lost the medals several times. It was because they became so monotonous. We needed a change—therefore several times we traded medals. It was a satisfaction to John RobardsⒺexplanatory note to seem to be a good speller—which he wasn’t. And it was a satisfaction to me to seem to be amiable,Ⓐapparatus note for a change. But of course these changes could not long endure—for some schoolmateⒶapparatus note or other would presently notice what had been happening, and that schoolmateⒶapparatus note would not have been human if he had lost any time in reporting this treason. The teacher took the medals away from us at once, of course—and we always had them back again before Friday night. If we lost the medals Monday morning, John’s amiability was at the top of the list Friday afternoon when the teacher came to square up the week’s account. The Friday afternoon session always closed with “spelling down.” Being in disgrace, I necessarily started at the foot of my division of spellers, but I always slaughtered both divisions and stood alone with the medal around my neck when the campaign was finished. I did miss on a word once, just at the end of one of these conflicts, and so lost the medal. I left the first rⒶapparatus note out of February—but that was to accommodate a sweetheart. My passion was so strong just at that time that I would have left out the whole alphabet if the word had contained it.
[begin page 339]As I have said before, I never had any large respect for good spelling. That is my feeling yet. Before the spelling bookⒶapparatus note came with its arbitrary forms, men unconsciously revealed shades of their characters, and also added enlightening shades of expression to what they wrote by their spelling, and so it is possible that the spelling bookⒶapparatus note has been a doubtful benevolence to us.
Susy began the biography in 1885, when I was in the fiftieth year of my age.Ⓐapparatus note She begins in this way:
We are a very happy family. We consist of Papa, Mamma, Jean, Clara and me. It is papa I am writing about, and I shall have no trouble in not knowing what to say about him, as he is a very striking character.Ⓐapparatus note
But wait a minute—I will return to Susy presently.
InⒶapparatus note the matter of slavish imitation, man is the monkey’s superior all the time. The average man is destitute of independence of opinion. He is not interested in contriving an opinion of his own, by study and reflection, but is only anxious to find out what his neighbor’s opinion is and slavishly adopt it. A generation ago, I found out that the latest review of a book was pretty sure to be just a reflection of the earliest review of it; thatⒶapparatus note whatever the first reviewer found to praise or censure in the book would be repeated in the latest reviewer’s report, with nothing fresh added. Therefore more than once I took the precaution of sending my book,Ⓐapparatus note in manuscript, to Mr. Howells, when he was editor of the Atlantic MonthlyⒺexplanatory note,Ⓐapparatus note so that he could prepare a review of it at leisure. I knew he would say the truth about the book—I also knew that he would find more merit than demerit in it, because I already knew that that was the condition of the book. I allowed no copy of itⒶapparatus note to go out to the press until after Mr. Howells’sⒶapparatus note notice of it had appeared. That book was always safe. There wasn’t a man behind a pen in all America that had the courage to find anything in the book which Mr. Howells had not found—there wasn’t a man behind a pen in America that had spirit enough to say a brave and original thing about the book on his own responsibility.
I believe that the trade of critic, in literature, music, and the drama, is the most degraded of all trades, and that it has no real value—certainly no large value. When Charles Dudley Warner and I were about to bring out “The Gilded Age,” the editor of the Daily GraphicⒶapparatus note persuaded me to let him have an advance copy, he giving me his word of honor that no notice of it wouldⒶapparatus note appear in his paper until after the Atlantic MonthlyⒶapparatus note notice should have appeared. This reptile published a review of the book within three days afterward. I could not really complain, because he had only given me his word of honor as security;Ⓐapparatus note I ought to have required of him something substantial. I believe his notice did not deal mainly with the merit of the book, or the lack of it, but with my moral attitude toward the public. It was charged that I had used my reputation to play a swindle upon the public;Ⓐapparatus note that Mr. Warner had written as much as half of the book, and that I had used my name to float it and give it currency; a currency—so the critic averred—Ⓐapparatus notewhich it could not have acquired without my name,Ⓐapparatus note and that this conduct of mine was a grave fraud upon the people. The GraphicⒶapparatus note was not an authority upon any subject whatever. It had a sort of distinction,Ⓐapparatus note in that it was the first and only illustrated daily newspaper that the world had seen; but it was without character; it was poorly and cheaply edited; its opinion of [begin page 340] a book or of any other work of art was of no consequence. Everybody knew this, yet all the critics in America, one after the other, copied the Graphic’sⒶapparatus note criticism, merely changing the phraseology, and left me under that charge of dishonest conduct. Even the great Chicago Tribune,Ⓐapparatus note the most important journal in the Middle WestⒶapparatus note, was not able to inventⒶapparatus note anything fresh, but adopted the view of the humble Daily Graphic,Ⓐapparatus note dishonesty-chargeⒶapparatus note and allⒺexplanatory note.
HoweverⒶapparatus note, let it go. It is the will of God that we must have critics, and missionaries, and CongressmenⒶapparatus note, and humorists,Ⓐapparatus note and we must bear the burden. Meantime, I seem to have been drifting into criticism myself. But that is nothing. At the worst, criticism is nothing more than a crime, and I am not unused to that.
What I have been travelingⒶapparatus note toward all this time is this:Ⓐapparatus note the first critic that ever had occasion to describe my personal appearance litteredⒶapparatus note his description with foolish and inexcusable errors whose aggregate furnished the result that I was distinctly and distressingly unhandsome. That description floated around the country in the papers, and was inⒶapparatus note constant use and wear for a quarter of a century. It seems strange to me that apparentlyⒶapparatus note no critic in the country couldⒶapparatus note be found who could look at me and have the courage to take up his pen and destroy that lie. That lie began its course on the Pacific coast, in 1864, and it likened me in personal appearance to Petroleum V. Nasby, who had been out there lecturing. For twenty-five years afterward, no critic could furnish a description of me without fetching in Nasby to help out my portrait. I knew Nasby well, and he was a good fellow, but in my life I have not felt malignantⒶapparatus note enough about any more than three persons to charge those persons with resembling Nasby. It hurts me to the heart, these things. To this day, it hurts me to the heart.Ⓐapparatus note I wasⒶapparatus note always handsome. Anybody but a critic could have seen it. And it had longⒶapparatus note been a distress to my family—including SusyⒶapparatus note—that the critics should go on making this wearisome mistake, year after year, when there was no foundationⒶapparatus note for it. Even when a critic wanted to be particularly friendly and complimentary to me, he didn’t dare to go beyond my clothes. He never ventured beyond that old safe frontierⒶapparatus note. When he had finished with my clothesⒶapparatus note he had said all the kind things, the pleasant things, the complimentary things he could risk. Then he dropped back on Nasby.
Yesterday I found this clipping in the pocket of one of those ancient memorandum-books of mine. It is of the date of thirty-nine years ago, and both the paper and the ink are yellow with the bitterness that I felt in that old day when I clipped it out to preserve it and brood over it, and grieve about it. I will copy it hereⒺexplanatory note, to wit:
AⒶapparatus note correspondent of the Philadelphia Press,Ⓐapparatus note writing of one of Schuyler Colfax’s receptions, says of our Washington correspondent: “MarkⒶapparatus note Twain, the delicate humorist,Ⓐapparatus note was present; quite a lion, as he deserves to be. Mark is a bachelor, faultless in taste, whose snowy vest is suggestive of endless quarrels with Washington washerwomen; but the heroism of Mark is settled for all time, for such purity and smoothness were never seen before. His lavender gloves might have been stolen from some Turkish harem, so delicate were they in size; but more likely—anything else were more likely than that. In form and feature he bears some resemblance to the immortal Nasby; but whilst Petroleum is brunette to the core, Twain is golden, amber-hued, melting, blonde.”Ⓐapparatus note
Let us return to Susy’sⒶapparatus note BiographyⒶapparatus note now, and get the opinion of one who is unbiassed.Ⓐapparatus note
[begin page 341]From Susy’s Biography.Ⓐapparatus note
Papa’sⒶapparatus note appearance has been described many times, but very incorrectly. He has beautiful gray hair, not any too thick or any too long, but just right; a Roman nose, which greatly improves the beauty of his features; kind blue eyes and a small mustache. He has a wonderfully shaped head and profile. He has a very good figure—in short, he is an extrodinarily fine looking man. All his features are perfect, exeptⒶapparatus note that he hasn’t extrodinary teeth. His complexion is very fair, and he doesn’t ware a beard. He is a very good man and a very funny one. He has got a temper, but we all of us have in this family. He is the loveliest man I ever saw or ever hope to see—and oh, so absent-minded. He does tell perfectly delightful stories. Clara and I used to sit on each arm of his chair and listen while he told us stories about the pictures on the wall.Ⓐapparatus note
I remember the story-telling days vividly. They were a difficult and exacting audience—those little creatures.
When Susy was thirteen . . . writing of a biography of me] Clemens wrote in his notebook in early April 1885, “Susie, aged 13, (1885), has begun to write my biography—solely of her own motion—a thing about which I feel proud & gratified” ( N&J3, 112; quoted more fully in the Introduction, p. 9). She worked on the biography until July 1886.
I shall print the whole of this little biography] Clemens ultimately used most, but by no means all, of Susy’s text.
The spelling is frequently desperate, but it was Susy’s, and it shall stand] Collation of Susy’s manuscript with Hobby’s typescript demonstrates that the text was transmitted orally to Hobby—that is, Clemens evidently read Susy’s text aloud and directed Hobby to spell many of the words incorrectly, as in the original (see the Textual Commentary for AD, 2 Feb 1906, MTPO ). Occasionally Susy spelled something properly that was rendered erroneously in the typescript, and vice versa. Clemens also sometimes adapted her prose to the surrounding dictation.
John Robards] See the Autobiographical Dictation of 9 March 1906, note at 401.7–16.
I took the precaution of sending my book, in manuscript, to Mr. Howells, when he was editor of the Atlantic Monthly] William Dean Howells was assistant editor (to 1871) and then editor (1871–81) of the Atlantic Monthly. During that time he reviewed in its pages The Innocents Abroad (1869), Roughing It (1872), Sketches New and Old (1875), Tom Sawyer (1876), and A Tramp Abroad (1880). Of these, the only ones he read “in manuscript” were Tom Sawyer and A Tramp Abroad; he did, however, continue to read many of Clemens’s books in manuscript and review them in other journals (Budd 1999, 71–73, 105–6, 151–52, 157–58, 186–88, 215, 292–95, 407).
“The Gilded Age,” . . . Chicago Tribune . . . adopted the view of the humble Daily Graphic, dishonesty-charge and all] Clemens is incorrect in asserting that the New York Daily Graphic “scooped” the Atlantic Monthly in reviewing The Gilded Age. The Atlantic did not review The Gilded Age at all: since Howells felt he could not recommend it, he merely noted it as “received” (Howells 1874b, 374; Howells 1979, 46). As for the Daily Graphic, almost a year earlier its editor, David G. Croly, had given Clemens space to advertise the forthcoming novel. Clemens’s letter, reproduced by the Graphic in facsimile, read in part:
I consider it one of the most astonishing novels that ever was written. Night after night I sit up reading it over & over again & crying. It will be published early in the fall, with plenty of pictures. Do you consider this an advertisement?—& if so, do you charge for such things, when a man is your friend & is an orphan? (17 Apr 1873 to Croly, L5, 341–44; see “Photographs and Manuscript Facsimiles, 1872–73,” L5, 668–71)
The Graphic reviewed The Gilded Age rather roughly, calling it an “incoherent series of sketches” and “a rather dreary failure.” But it seems to have been the Chicago Tribune that originated the charges of “fraud,” “deliberate deceit,” and “abusing the people’s trust.” The imputed offense was the authors’ sale of substandard goods, not the use of Mark Twain’s name to sell Warner’s work (“Literary Notes,” New York Daily Graphic, 23 Dec 1873, 351; “The Twain-Warner Novel,” Chicago Tribune, 1 Feb 1874, 9).
I found this clipping . . . of the date of thirty-nine years ago . . . I will copy it here] The clipping itself does not survive, but the “correspondent of the Philadelphia Press” has been identified as Emily Edson Briggs (1830–1910), who wrote under the pen name “ Olivia.” The passage, drawn from her column datelined 2 March 1868 (in Briggs 1906, 45–47), was reprinted in one of the newspapers for which Clemens corresponded from Washington in early 1868—the Chicago Republican, the San Francisco Alta California, or the Virginia City Territorial Enterprise.
Source documents.
TS1 Typescript, leaves numbered 249–61, made from Hobby’s notes and revised.TS2 Typescript, leaves numbered 396–407, made from the revised TS1.
TS3 Typescript, leaves numbered 1–9, made from the revised TS1 and further revised (the same extent as NAR 4).
NAR 4pf Galley proofs of NAR 4, typeset from the revised TS3 and further revised, ViU (the same extent as NAR 4).
NAR 4 North American Review 183 (19 October 1906), 705–10: ‘When Susy . . . for me.’ (337.20–338.14); ‘Susy began . . . little creatures.’ (339.5–341.13).
Clemens considered this dictation for possible publication through Samuel McClure’s newspaper syndicate, writing ‘M C’ in blue pencil on the first page of TS1; that notation was later partially erased (see the Introduction, p. 29). Harvey reviewed TS1 in August 1906 for possible publication in the NAR and selected two excerpts. He deleted two marginal dates and also suggested a revision, the addition of Susy’s age in 1885: ‘and she in the fourteenth of hers’ (see the entry for ‘age.’ at 339.5). Hobby had already incorporated the revisions that Clemens made on TS1 into TS2 (which he did not further revise), so Harvey’s suggestions were not included in TS2. When Hobby prepared TS3, however, she followed Harvey’s revisions, but queried his insertion. Clemens revised TS3 to serve as printer’s copy for NAR 4, where it is followed by the AD of 8 February 1906 (see Contents and Pagination of TS3, Batch 3). He responded to Hobby’s query by supplying new wording, which has not been adopted here, however, because he did not initiate the change.
The 7 February dictation is the first of many in which Clemens interpolates extracts from Susy Clemens’s unfinished biography of him. Susy started the biography in early 1885, when she was thirteen years old; the last entry is from July 1886. Her manuscript written in a childish hand and dotted with misspellings, was later annotated by her father (MS at ViU). As with the manuscript material from Clemens’s memorial to Susy, it is clear that Clemens dictated the biography material to Hobby: the manuscript’s punctuation, capitalization, paragraphing, and emphasis are only rarely reflected in TS1—to a degree compatible with Clemens deliberately retaining certain quaint spellings, presumably spelling them out for his amanuensis, but not compatible with direct transcription.
Marginal Notes on TS1 and TS3 Concerning Publication in the NAR