Paragraph copied from “England’s Ovation to Mark Twain” by Sydney Brooks, in regard to Mr. Clemens’s speech at the Pilgrims’ dinner—Speeches can be conveyed in print, but talks cannot—The ceremony of conferring the degree of D. Litt., and copy of Sydney Brooks’s account of it.
The fine verses quoted in that account are from the hand of Owen Seaman, of the Punch editorial staff. It sounds that same deep note of affection, which I so prize.
InⒶtextual note an article entitled “England’s Ovation to Mark Twain”Ⓐtextual note Sydney BrooksⒶtextual note Ⓔexplanatory note has a paragraph which calls to mind a chapter of this Autobiography which I dictated a couple of years ago when Clara made her débutⒶtextual note Ⓔexplanatory note on the concert stage at Norfolk, Connecticut, and I made a talk—not a speech. This is the quotation:
[begin page 82] It would have done you good to hear the storm of cheers that greeted Mark Twain when he roseⒶtextual note to respond. His first words had reference to two telegrams of greeting, one from the undergraduates of Oxford, the other from the New YorkⒶtextual note Pilgrims. I was never more conscious of the difference between the spoken and the written word than in reading over in print the speech which I heard Mark Twain deliver. You get indeed the words, but the atmosphere of the occasion that made each point so inevitably appropriate and telling, the presence and gestures of the veteran speaker, his incomparably effective and dramatic drawl—all this you miss.
It is as I have said in the autobiographical chapter just referred to: speeches Ⓐtextual note can be conveyed in print, but not talks Ⓐtextual note. Speeches consist of literarily phrased and completed sentences, and they read smoothly and intelligibly, but this is not the case with talks. The soul of a talk consists of action, not words; action, gesture, inflection—the unvoiced expression of the thought. These felicities escape the stenographer; they are an aroma; he cannot concrete them into words; the words are not there; none but the inconsequential sentences are completed; the happy ones break off in the middle because the audience has got the point, it is not necessary to finish the sentence, and the house would not hear the finish anyhow. But the stenographer cannot leave the sentences in that broken condition, for the result would be ragged, incoherent and incomprehensible; therefore he finishes the broken sentences with words of his own, and the result is stupendously unhappy. A talk cannot be conveyed in print successfully; there is no way to do it, and the attempt should never be made. Oh look at that Pilgrim talk of mine! It was an exceedingly good talk when it was uttered, but how flat it is in print!
I wasⒶtextual note in Oxford by seven o’clock that evening (June 25, 1907), andⒶtextual note trying on the scarlet gown which the tailor had been constructing, and found it right—right and surpassingly becoming. At half pastⒶtextual note ten the next morning we assembled at All Souls College and marched thence, gowned, mortar-boarded,Ⓐtextual note and in double file, down a long street to the Sheldonian Theatre, between solid walls of the populace, very much hurrah’dⒶtextual note and limitlessly kodacked. We made a procession of considerable length and distinction and picturesqueness, with the Chancellor, Lord CurzonⒺexplanatory note, late Viceroy of India, in his rich robe of black and gold, in the lead, followed by a pair of trim little-boyⒶtextual note train-bearers, and the train-bearers followed by the young Prince Arthur of Connaught, who was to be made a D.C.L. The detachment of D.C.L.’sⒶtextual note were followed by the Doctors of Science, and these by the Doctors of Literature, and these in turn by the DoctorsⒶtextual note of Music. Sidney Colvin marched in front of me; I was coupled with Sidney Lee, and Kipling followed us; General Booth, of the Salvation ArmyⒺexplanatory note, was in the squadron of D.C.L.’sⒶtextual note.
Our journey ended, we were halted in a fine old hall whence we could see, through a corridor of some length, the massed audience in the theatre. Here for a little time we moved about and chatted and made acquaintanceships; then the D.C.L.’sⒶtextual note were summoned, and they marched through that corridor and the shouting began in the theatre. It would be some time before the Doctors of Literature and of Science would be called for, because each of those D.C.L.’sⒶtextual note had to have a couple of Latin speeches made over him [begin page 83] before his promotion would be complete—one by the Regius Professor of Civil Law, the other by the Chancellor. After a while I asked Sir William RamsayⒶtextual note Ⓔexplanatory note if a person might smoke here and not get shot. He saidⒶtextual note “Yes,” but thatⒶtextual note whoever did it and got caught would be fined a guinea, and perhaps hanged later. He said he knew of a place where we could accomplish at least as much as half of a smoke before any informers would be likely to chance upon us, and he was ready to show the way to any who might be willing to risk the guinea and the hanging. By request he led the way, and Kipling, Sir Norman Lockyer and I followed. We crossed an unpopulated quadrangle and stood under one of its exits—an archway of massive masonry—and there we lit up and began to take comfort. The photographers soon arrived, but they were courteous and friendly and gave usⒶtextual note no trouble, and we gave them none. They grouped us in all sorts of ways and photographed us at their diligent leisure, while we smoked and talked. We were there more than an hour; then we returned to headquarters, happy, content, and greatly refreshed. Presently we filed into the theatre, under a very satisfactory hurrah, and waited in a crimson column, dividing the crowded pit through the middle, until each of us in his turn should be called to stand before the Chancellor and hearⒶtextual note our merits set forth in sonorous Latin. Meantime, Kipling and I wrote autographs until some good kind soul interfered in our behalf and procured for us a rest.
I will now save what is left of my modesty by quoting againⒶtextual note from Sydney Brooks’s “Ovation.”
On WednesdayⒶtextual note, June 26, he received his degree of D. Litt. He was not the only American so honored. Mr. Whitelaw ReidⒺexplanatory note was also present, the degree awarded him being the D.C.L.; and it is pleasant to be able to record that his reception was one of unforced heartiness and cordiality. The Oxford degrees are conferred in the Sheldonian Theatre, a circular building, built by Sir Christopher Wren after a Roman model, and though apparently small, capable of holding nearly four thousand people. On Wednesday all the tiers and galleries were filled to the uttermost, the lower ones by ladies and dons, the topmost ones by undergraduates, while on the floor stood the graduates and strangers, clustering round a passageway through which the procession was to pass. Shortly after eleven o’clock the Chancellor, Lord Curzon, in his black and gold state robes, attended by two pages, and followed by the heads of the colleges in their scarlet gowns, entered the theatre and passed up to the platform. The list of proposed degrees was at once read out by the Chancellor and the pleasure of the house asked in the time-honored Latin form. The mightiest bursts of applause were for the Prime MinisterⒺexplanatory note, the American ambassador, “General” Booth, Sir Evelyn WoodⒺexplanatory note, Mark Twain, and Mr. Rudyard Kipling. Those on whom the degree of Doctor of Civil Law was to be conferred were then summoned into the theatre and took their seats in the reserved passageway. One by one they were presented to the Chancellor by the Regius Professor of Civil Law in a series of Latin speeches describing their achievements. The Chancellor replied in a few complimentary words that often concealed a shrewd pleasantry and formally admitted each nominee to the degree. The person so honored then mounted the platform, shook hands with the Chancellor, and took his appointed seat to the [begin page 84] right or left. When Mr. Whitelaw Reid’s turn came round the Regius Professor of Civil Law hailed him as the distinguished son of a kindred race, famous for his eloquence and a marked journalist, whose worth and repute among his own countrymen were attested by their choice of him to represent them as Ambassador to Great Britain. But it was not only as a kinsman and an Ambassador that they greeted him, but as a man of learning and proficiency in all the arts. While this greeting was being declaimed in sonorous Latin an undergraduate voice from the gallery, affecting what passes in England for an American accent of the worst buzz-saw character, shouted out, to the huge merriment of all present, “I guess that’s about right, pardner.” Mr. Reid was most warmly cheered as the Chancellor, after addressing himⒶtextual note as vir honorate, magni populi legate, litteras diurnas magno labore multos annos molite, ingens inter consanguineas gentes amicitiae Ⓐtextual note aut simultatis momentum, pronounced the words admitting him to the degree of civil law and shook him cordially by the hand.
But unquestionably it was Mark Twain who of all the recipients of degrees roused the greatest enthusiasm. The whole building broke into a roar of applause when he stood up to be presented to the Chancellor. “What have you done with the Ascot Cup, Mark?” asked a voice from the gallery, and the assembly shook with laughter. “Have you got that jumping frog with you, Mark?” asked another voice, and peal upon peal of cheers rang out. The speech in which Mark Twain was presented was perfectly inaudible, but the professor who delivered it, being somewhat bald, and standing within a foot or two of Mark Twain’s magnificent mane, gave point to the coaxing query that floated down from the galleries, “Couldn’t you spare him some of your hair, Mark?” I doubt whether Mark Twain has ever been more severely tried than as he stood there, condemned by all the proprieties to silenceⒺexplanatory note and a more or less passive demeanor, while the jests flew fast and all the spectators shook with laughter and applause. A tremendous and most moving ovation punctuated the Chancellor’s address. Vir jucundissime [loud cheers]Ⓐtextual note, lepidissime [louder cheers]Ⓐtextual note, facetissime [frantic cheers]Ⓐtextual note, qui totius orbis terrarum latera nativa tua hilaritate concutis Ⓔexplanatory note [prolonged cheers]Ⓐtextual note, during which Mark Twain advances to the Chancellor’s rostrum, shakes hands, and passes to a seat on the left, smiling and gratified except for the thought of all the good things he might have said in reply. And it was the same wherever he went in Oxford. When the presentations were over and the newly made Doctors filed out of the theatre and went to lunch at All Souls College, the people in the streets singled out Mark Twain, formed a vast and cheering body-guard around him and escorted him to the college gates. But before and after the lunch it was Mark Twain again, whom everybody seemed most of all to want to meet. The Maharajah of Bikanir, for instance, finding himself seated at lunch next to Mrs. Riggs (Kate Douglas Wiggin)Ⓔexplanatory note and hearing that she knew Mark Twain, asked her to present him—a ceremony duly performed later on in the quadrangle. At the garden party given the same afternoon in the beautiful grounds of St. John’s, where the indefatigable Mark put in an appearance, it was just the same—every one pressed forward for an exchange of greetings and a hand-shake. On the following day, when the Oxford Pageant took place, it was even more so. “Mark Twain’s Pageant” it was called by one of the papersⒺexplanatory note. Wherever he went he received from the people of Oxford the warm affectionate welcome that greeted him in London, and that will continue to greet him in every town he visits in these islands.Ⓐtextual note
“England’s Ovation . . . Sydney Brooks] Brooks (1872–1937) was the London correspondent for Harper’s Weekly. The article quoted in the text appeared in July, while Clemens was still abroad (Brooks 1907).
Lord Curzon] George, Lord Curzon of Kedleston (1859–1925) was Viceroy of India from 1899 to 1905. He had been installed as Chancellor of Oxford University in May 1907; as such his duties included the conferring of honorary degrees, which was (and is) done at the Encaenia, the annual ceremony in commemoration of the university’s founders and benefactors (“Lord Curzon at Oxford,” London Times, 13 May 1907, 4; Lathem 2006, 3).
Prince Arthur of Connaught . . . General Booth, of the Salvation Army] Clemens mentions: Prince Arthur of Connaught (1883–1938), a grandson of Queen Victoria often deputized by King Edward VII to represent the Crown on ceremonial occasions; Sidney Colvin (1845–1927), scholar of art and literature; Sidney Lee (see AD, 19 Aug 1907); and William Booth (1829–1912), founder and general superintendent of the Salvation Army.
Sir William Ramsay] British chemist (1852–1916), who discovered helium.
Mr. Whitelaw Reid] The American ambassador, with whom Clemens had a sometimes acrimonious relationship; see the Autobiographical Dictations of 27 and 28 August 1907.
Sir Evelyn Wood] Field Marshal Sir Evelyn Wood (1838–1919), British Army officer.
I doubt whether Mark Twain . . . condemned by all the proprieties to silence] For advice about his conduct at the Oxford ceremony, Clemens consulted Ian MacAlister (1878–1957), the Oxford-educated son of his friend J. Y. W. MacAlister. In 1938, Ian MacAlister recalled:
He was stopping at Brown’s Hotel. . . . He had sent for me for this reason. He was going to take this Honorary Degree and he wanted to know about the ceremony—what he was to do and say and all about it. He had an idea that on these occasions there was a great crowd of undergraduates who ragged the people who got the Degrees, and he wanted to get ready. He had got it into his head that he had to exchange witticisms with them, and stand up for himself. I had to explain to him that I was sorry there was nothing of that kind. He must not say a word. He must look quite solemn and dignified and quite ignore the gallery. I think he was really a bit disappointed. I think he had been looking forward to a kind of duel of wit with these fellows in the gallery. But he promised to be good. (MacAlister 1938, 144)
Vir jucundissime . . . concutis] “You, Sir, a gentleman most amiable, most charming, most witty, who shakes the sides of the whole world with your inborn merriment” (translation by Norman A. Doenges, in Lathem 2006, 169).
“Mark Twain’s Pageant” it was called by one of the papers] The London Daily Chronicle of 28 June 1907 (Lathem 2006, 60). For the Oxford Pageant see the Autobiographical Dictation of 30 July 1907.
Source documents.
Brooks Facsimile of Sydney Brooks, “England’s Ovation to Mark Twain,” Harper’s Weekly 51 (27 July 1907): 1086–89: ‘It would . . . you miss.’ (82.1–8); ‘On Wednesday . . . these islands.’ (83.21–84.48).TS1 ribbon Typescript, made from Hobby’s notes and Brooks and revised.
TS1 carbon (incomplete) Typescript carbon, leaves numbered 2087–90, 2093–94 (2091–92 are missing), revised: ‘Dictated . . . got caught’ (81 title–83.3); ‘so honored . . . these islands.’ (83.22–84.48).
NAR 23pf (lost) Galley proofs of NAR 23, typeset from the revised TS1 carbon; now lost.
NAR 23 North American Review 186 (October 1907): 169–71: ‘In an article . . . Sydney Brooks’ (81.34); ‘I was . . . Sydney Brooks’s “Ovation.” ’ (82.23–83.20).
TS1 carbon was revised in ink by Clemens in preparing NAR 23, which combined excerpts from the AD of 9 March 1906, the entire AD of 16 March 1906, and excerpts from the AD of 30 July 1907. The carbon is supplemented with a half-leaf of writing paper, on which Clemens continues the revisions and additions he had made on leaf 2094. TS1 carbon was also revised by Munro, in pencil.
On the last leaf of TS1 carbon and its appended half-leaf, Clemens composed an ending for the NAR installment. It is designed to draw a connection between the Oxford degree ceremony and an event from the AD of 16 March 1906, which precedes the Oxford passage in the installment. Because this revision was designed especially for the NAR installment, and is meaningful only in that context, it is disregarded here; we follow the ending as given in TS1 before revision.
Clemens left standing in TS1 carbon a portion of Sydney Brooks’s tribute to him in Harper’s Weekly. Harvey marked this for “Minion” (extract type), but in the (lost) proofs the passage from Brooks was canceled; a row of stars and a sentence excusing the omission (presumably Clemens’s, or sanctioned by him) were added (see the entry at 84.48). For the text of Brooks we follow the Harper’s Weekly printing, and Hobby’s accidental variations from copy are not recorded. A small but deliberate change to the article’s text seems to have been effected (at 83.21), so Clemens may have marked a copy of Brooks before providing it to Hobby.
Marginal Notes on TS1 carbon Concerning Publication in NAR
leave this out