Dictated AugustⒶtextual note 29, 1907
The Fourth of July Banquet at the Hotel Cecil, and copy of the official report of Mr. Clemens’s speech; also paragraph from President Murray Butler’s speech.
The Fourth of July dinner that night was devoured in the great banqueting hall of the Hotel Cecil. Every chair on the floor was occupied by men, and all the seats in the gallery by ladies. It was a fine spectacle.
Banqueteering is becoming more and more endurable as the years go by, both in England and America, for the reason that not so many speeches are permitted now as was formerly the case. If the feeding-task could now be cut down two-thirds, reducing the usual menu from fourteen courses to three and a half or four, men would no longer be justified in ranking the fear of death and the fear of the banquet together. My first experience of a banquet in a foreign country was in England, thirty-four years ago. It was in the GuildhallⒶtextual note, and it was said that there were nine hundred banqueteers present. I think it was the truth, for the din and crash and clash of a roaring and thundering and piercing confusion of sounds proceeding from an all-pervading storm of high-voicedⒶtextual note conversation, and from the ceaseless collision of multitudinous knives and forks and plates, remains in my ears unto this day—dulled to a vague rumble and gnashing by lapse of time, but not wholly abolished, and never to be wholly abolished until I die.
IⒶtextual note was thereⒶtextual note by appointment, to respond to a regular toast, of which there were nine! [begin page 117] Nine to be responded to, and mine in the place of honor—the lastⒺexplanatory note! It was aⒶtextual note large distinction to confer upon a stranger,Ⓐtextual note and I was properly proud of it; sorry for it too, for it broke my heart to wait so long; if I had had a hatful of hearts it would have broken them all. When at last the long, long, exhausting wait was ended, and my turn was come, and my gratitude rising up and pervading and supporting my whole system, a disaster befell: Sir John BennettⒺexplanatory note rose, uninvited, and began to speak. The indignation of the weary house burst out with the crash of an avalanche—a crash made up of shouts of protest and disapproval, powerfully aided and reinforced by deafening pounding of the tables with empty champagne bottles. But no matter—the gallant Sir John stood serene on the distant edge of the smoke and storm of battle and visibly worked his jaws and his arms, undismayed—and in silence, of course, for neither he nor any other man could hear a word that he was saying. He was one of the two outgoingⒶtextual note sheriffs, and it was said that he always made speeches at the great banquets; that he was never invited to make them; that no one had ever been able to find out whether they were good or bad, or neither, because nobody had ever heard one of them, since the tempest of resentment always broke out with his rising and never ceased until he finished his pantomime and sat down again. It was the most picturesque thing I have ever seen at a banquet except one, and I have the impression that I witnessed that one at the same dinner—to wit, as a doxology and good-night,Ⓐtextual note that multitude of guests got up in a body, with one impulse, and stood in their chairs, with hands joined and one foot on the table,Ⓐtextual note and sang “AuldⒶtextual note Lang Syne;” then each man reached for a glass of champagne, held it on high for a moment, then drank it down—all in unison; then in unison they smashed the glasses upon the table—a fine and spirit-stirringⒶtextual note effect.
At the greatest of all American banquets—the banquet to General Grant, in Chicago in 1879 when he returned from around the worldⒶtextual note—there were actually sixteen Ⓐtextual note regular toasts, and sixteen carefully prepared responses to them; again I had that high privilege, the place of honor—I was No. 16Ⓔexplanatory note! If I remember rightly, that GuildhallⒶtextual note banquet and the Grant banquet lasted from half pastⒶtextual note seven in the evening until after two in the morning; nobody died, but of course there were some close calls.
At this recent Fourth of July banquet that I have been talking about, there were but four regular toasts and four speeches in response to them, and the function was over by about eleven o’clock. First the King’s health was drunk, standing, and in silence, in accordance with ancient and invariable custom; next the health of the President of the United States was drunk. Sir Mortimer Durand, late AmbassadorⒶtextual note to the United States, responded to it in a happy speech of considerable lengthⒺexplanatory note; next, in a good and elaborate speech, Whitelaw Reid proposed “The Day WeⒶtextual note Celebrate.” By appointment, I responded. I will here copy the official report of that effort, after striking out the bracketed “laughters” and “renewed laughters,” and so on:Ⓐtextual note
Mr. Chairman, my Lords and Gentlemen,—Once more it happens, as it has happened so often since I arrived in England a week or two ago, that instead of celebrating the Fourth of July properly as has been indicated, I have to first take care [begin page 118] of my personal character.Ⓐtextual note Sir Mortimer Durand still remains unconvinced. Well, I tried to convince these people from the beginning that I did not take the Ascot CupⒺexplanatory note,Ⓐtextual note and as I have failed to persuade anybody that I did not take it,Ⓐtextual note I might as well confess that I did take it, and be done with it. I don’t see why this uncharitable feeling should follow me everywhere, and why I should have that crime thrown up to me on all occasions. The tears that I have wept over it ought to have created a different feeling than this—and besides, I don’t think it is very right or fair that, considering England has been trying to take a Cup of ours for forty yearsⒺexplanatory note,Ⓐtextual note they should make so much trouble when I try to go into the business myself.Ⓐtextual note Sir Mortimer Durand, too, has had trouble from going to a dinner here, and he has told you what he suffered in consequence. But what did he suffer? He only missed his train and had to sit all night in his regimentalsⒺexplanatory note—I don’t know what they were. Why, that caused him only one night of discomfort, and he remembers it to this day. Oh,Ⓐtextual note if you could only think what I have suffered from a similar circumstance!Ⓐtextual note Two or three years ago in New York, with that society there which is made up of people from all British Colonies, and from Great Britain generally, who were educated in British colleges and British schools, I was there to respond to a toast of some kind or other, and I did then what I have been in the habit of doing from a selfish motive for a long time, and that is, I got myself placed No.Ⓐtextual note 3 in the list of speakers—then you get home early. I had to go five miles up river and had to catch a particular train, or not get there. But see the magnanimity which is born in me, and which I have cultivated all my life. A very famous and very great British clergyman came to me presently, and saidⒶtextual note, “I am away down in the list, I have got to catch a certain train this Saturday night, if I don’t catch that train I shall be carried beyond midnight, and break the Sabbath. Won’t you change places with me?” I said, “Certainly I will.” I did it at once. Now see what happened. Talk about Sir Mortimer Durand’s sufferings for a single night—I have suffered ever since,Ⓐtextual note because I saved that gentleman from breaking the Sabbath—saved him. I took his place, but I lost my train, and it was I who broke the SabbathⒺexplanatory note. Up to that time I never had broken the Sabbath in my life, and from that day to this I never have kept it.Ⓐtextual note
Our Ambassador has spoken of our Fourth of July and the noise it makes. We have a double Fourth of July, a daylight Fourth and a midnight Fourth. During the day in America, as our Ambassador has indicated, we keep the Fourth of July properly in a reverent spirit. We devote it to teaching our children patriotic things, andⒶtextual note reverence for the Declaration of Independence. We honour the day all through the daylight hours, and when night comes we dishonor it. Two hours from now, on the Atlantic coast when night shuts down, that pandemonium will begin and there will be noise, and noise, and noise, all night long, and there will be more than noise—there will be people crippled, there will be people killed, there will be people who will lose their eyes, and all through that permission which we give to irresponsible boys to play with firearms and firecrackers and all sorts of dangerous things. We turn that Fourth of July alas! over to rowdies to drink and get drunk and make the night hideous, and we cripple and kill more people than you would imagineⒺexplanatory note. We probably began to celebrate our Fourth of July night in that way a hundred and twenty-five years ago, and on every Fourth of July night since, these horrors have grown and grown until now, in the most ofⒶtextual note our five thousand towns of America, somebody gets killed or crippled on every Fourth of July night, besides [begin page 119] those cases of sick persons whom we never hear of, who die afterwardⒶtextual note as the result of the noise or the shock. They cripple and kill more people on the Fourth of July, in America, than they kill and cripple in our American wars nowadays, and there are no pensions for these folk. And, too, we burn houses. WeⒶtextual note destroy more property on every Fourth of July night than the whole of the United States was worth a hundred and twenty-five years ago. Really, our Fourth of July is our DayⒶtextual note of MourningⒶtextual note, our DayⒶtextual note of SorrowⒶtextual note. Fifty thousand people who have lost friends, or who have had friends crippled, receive that Fourth of July, when it comes, as a day of mourning for the losses they have long agoⒶtextual note sustained in their families.
I have suffered in that way myself. I have had relatives killed in that way. One was in Chicago years ago—an uncle of mine, just as good an uncle as I have ever had, and I have had lots of them—yesⒶtextual note, uncles to burn, uncles to spare.Ⓐtextual note This poor uncle, full of patriotism, opened his mouth to hurrah, and a rocket went down his throat.Ⓐtextual note Before that man could ask for a drink of water to quench that thing it blew up and scattered him all over the forty-five States, and—nowⒶtextual note, this is true, I know about it myself—twenty-four hours after that it was raining buttons, recognisable as his, the whole length of the Atlantic seaboard.Ⓐtextual note A person cannot have a disaster like that and be entirely cheerful the rest of his life. I had another uncle on an entirely different Fourth of July who was blown up that way, and really it trimmed him as it would a tree. He had hardly a limb left on him anywhere. All we have left now is an expurgated edition of him.Ⓐtextual note But never mind about these things, they are merely passing matters. Don’t let me make you sad.Ⓐtextual note
Sir Mortimer Durand said that you, the English people, gave up your Colonies over there—got tired of them—and did it with some reluctanceⒺexplanatory note. Now I wish you just to consider that he was right about that, and that he had his reasons for saying that England did not look upon our Revolution as a foreign war, but as a civil war fought by Englishmen. Our Fourth of July which we honour so much, and which we love so much, and which we take so much pride in, is an English institution, not an American one, and it comes of a great ancestry. The first Fourth of July in that noble genealogy dates back seven centuries lacking eight years. That is the day of the Great Charter—the Magna Charta—which was born at Runnymede in the next to the last year of King John, and portions of the liberties forced thus by those hardy Barons from that reluctant King are a part of our Declaration of Independence, of our Fourth of July, of our American liberties. And the second of those Fourths of July—also English—was not born until four centuries later, in Charles I’sⒶtextual note time, in the Bill of Rights, and that is ours by inheritance, it is part of our liberties. The next one was still English, conceived and secured by Englishmen in New England, where they established that principle which remains with us to this day, and will continue to remain with us—no taxation without representation. That Fourth is always going to stand, and that Fourth the English ColonistsⒶtextual note in New England gave us. The fourthⒶtextual note Fourth of July, theⒶtextual note one which you are celebrating now, born in Philadelphia on the Fourth of July, 1776, is English, Ⓐtextual note too. It is not American. Those were English colonists, subjects of King George III, Englishmen at heart, who protested against the oppressions of the Home Government. Though they proposed to cure those oppressions and remove them, still remaining under the Crown, they were not intending a revolution. The revolution was brought about by circumstances which they could not control. The Declaration of Independence was written by a British subject, every [begin page 120] name signed to it was the name of a British subject, thereⒶtextual note was not the name of a single American attached to it—Ⓐtextual notein fact, there was not an American in the country in that day except the Indians out in the forests. They were Englishmen, all Englishmen—Americans did not begin to exist until seven years later, when that Fourth of July was seven years old and the American Republic established. Since then Ⓐtextual note there have been Americans. So you see what we owe to England in the matter of Liberties.
We have, however, one Fourth of July which is absolutely our own, and that is that memorable proclamation issued forty years ago by that great American to whom Sir Mortimer Durand paid that just and beautiful tribute—Abraham Lincoln: a proclamation which not only set the black slave freeⒺexplanatory note, but set his white owner free also. The owner was set free from that burden and offence, that sad condition of things where he was in so many instances a master and owner of slaves when he did not want to be. That proclamation set them all free. But even in this matter England led the way, for she had set her slaves freeⒺexplanatory note thirty years before, and we but followed her example. We always follow her example, whether it is good or bad. And it was an English judge, a century ago, that issued that other great proclamation, and established that great principle, that, when a slave—Ⓐtextual notelet him belong to whom he may, and let him come whence he may—Ⓐtextual notesets his foot upon English soil, his fetters by that act fall awayⒺexplanatory note and he is a free man before the world!
It is true, then, that all our Fourths of July, and we have five of them, England gave to us, except that one that I have mentioned—the Emancipation Proclamation; and let us not forget that we owe this debt to her. Let us be able to say to Old England, this great-heartedⒶtextual note YouⒶtextual note old mother of the race, gave us our Fourths of July that we love and honourⒶtextual note and revere, you gave us the Declaration of Independence, which is the Charter of our rights, you, the venerable Mother of Liberties, the Champion and Protector of Anglo-Saxon Freedom—you gave us these things, and we do most honestly thank you for them!Ⓐtextual note
The next and last speech was made by President Murray ButlerⒺexplanatory note, of Columbia University, in response to the toast to “Our Guests.” I will select, and insert here, a remark from his speech,Ⓐtextual note because it pays me a compliment. The reason I do not put in the rest of his speech is because it dealt with other matters. Speeches which do not deal with me I regard as irrelevancies.
To my mind the most significant fact about this celebration of the Fourth of July is that the celebration is held with the greatest of cordiality and goodwill, and with the favouring and gracious presence of the leaders of British thought and action, in the capital of the British Empire itself. Is it possible for any one of us to think that such a gathering could take place anywhere else in the world as between a motherland and a nation, once colonial, now independent? It is unthinkable, because the reasons which make possible this celebration in the British capital apply to Great Britain and America alone. Some of these reasons have been touched upon by Dr. Clemens in the very beautiful and eloquent passage at the close of his speech. He has pointed out with absolute fidelity to historical fact that we are celebrating, not something which Englishmen do not want and do not believe in, but something which England throughout its history has fought for and stood for. (Applause.)
My first experience of a banquet in a foreign country . . . mine in the place of honor—the last] Clemens misremembers some of the details of his experience at the Inauguration Banquet of Sheriffs at Guildhall on 28 September 1872. About two hundred and fifty guests were present. He was not “there by appointment, to respond to a regular toast”: he attended as the guest of Sir John Bennett, who asked him during the meal to respond to the toast “Success to Literature.” The London Observer’s report shows that he took his very lack of preparation as his text. He wrote his wife that night: “Imagine my situation, before that great audience, without a single word of preparation—for I had expected nothing of this kind—I did not know I was a lion. I got up & said whatever came first, & made a good deal of a success—for I was the only man they consented to hear clear through—& they applauded handsomely. . . . I think it was a sort of lame speech I made, but it was splendidly received” (28 Sept 1872 to OLC, L5 , 183–88).
Sir John Bennett] Sir John Bennett (1814–97), a watchmaker by trade and a London politician by vocation, was noted for flamboyant display. He was a sheriff of London and Middlesex in 1871–72, during which term he was knighted. Clemens had recently been befriended by Bennett, and was at this Lord Mayor’s Dinner by his invitation ( L5: 25 Sept 1872 to OLC, 180 n. 3; 28 Sept 1872 to OLC, 185–86 n. 1).
banquet to General Grant . . . I was No. 16] At the banquet to General Grant given in Chicago on 13 November 1879, Clemens gave a celebrated speech in response to the toast to “The Babies,” the last of fifteen toasts and the only speech of the evening that caused Grant himself to laugh (“Banquet of the Army of the Tennessee,” New York Times, 15 Nov 1879, 1; see “The Chicago G.A.R. Festival,” AutoMT1 , 67–70).
Sir Mortimer Durand . . . speech of considerable length] Durand (1850–1924) was ambassador to the United States from December 1903 to November 1906, when he was recalled by his government; he never held an official post again (Washington Post: “Durand Is Presented,” 3 Dec 1903, 9; “Bryce Is Ambassador,” 22 Dec 1906, 3).
Sir Mortimer Durand still remains unconvinced . . . I did not take the Ascot Cup] See the Autobiographical Dictation of 25 July 1907. Sir Mortimer had said, in proposing the toast to the president:
The race feeling [shared by England and America] is not gone. I am certain that the remains of it will long endure—just as certain as I am that, in spite of his protestations, Mark Twain has got that Cup. It is not the first cup your people have lifted here, and I daresay it won’t be the last. How he will get it through the Custom House I don’t know. (Lathem 2006, 199, quoting the American Society in London’s Report of the Speeches at the Independence Day Banquet, July 4th, 1907)
England has been trying to take a Cup of ours for forty years] The America’s Cup, the trophy of the international yacht race of the same name, was held by the New York Yacht Club—as it had been since 1851, and as it would be until 1983. Britain had challenged the American defenders frequently since 1870 (Lathem 2006, 196).
Sir Mortimer Durand . . . had to sit all night in his regimentals] In his toast, Sir Mortimer told how, at his last American Society in London dinner, he had “listened with so much interest and pleasure that I lost my last train into the country, and had to spend the night in full warpaint in the waiting room at Victoria” (Lathem 2006, 199).
Two or three years ago in New York . . . I lost my train, and it was I who broke the Sabbath] Clemens refers to a speech he made at a banquet given by the British Schools and Universities Club of New York, at Delmonico’s on 9 November 1901. Clemens followed two speakers, who seem to be conflated in his portrait of a “very famous and very great British clergyman”: the British-born Rev. D. Parker Morgan (1843–1915), and Francis L. Patton, the Presbyterian minister and president of Princeton University (see AD, 24 July 1907, note at 72.24–36). From Clemens’s speech it is clear that Patton changed places with Clemens in the speaking order:
If I never do another creditable thing, I have at least got the Rev. Dr. Patton’s train for him, and I have lost my own. To-morrow his Sabbath will suffer no damage, but I have to break mine. But if you will consider the self-sacrifice that I make, think of it. He can afford it better than I. He has a record to fall back on, and, sadly, so have I. [Laughter.] I also enjoy a kindness. I am glad to have him catch his train. The sooner he goes the more liberally I can afford to speak. (“Britons Here Toast Their King, Edward,” New York Times, 10 Nov 1901, 9)
when night shuts down, that pandemonium will begin . . . we cripple and kill more people than you would imagine] The dangers of the Fourth of July as a result of firecrackers, gunfire, and gunpowder became a widespread concern at the turn of the twentieth century. Deadly tetanus could follow from even minor burns or lacerations. In 1899, the Chicago Tribune launched its continuing “Campaign for a Sane Fourth,” a series of articles tabulating the injuries and deaths caused by Fourth of July celebrations across the nation. In 1906 the American Medical Association reported 5,308 injuries—including the loss of eyes, limbs, and fingers—and 158 deaths. There was mockery and resistance, but by 1911 Chicago and many other cities limited or banned fireworks (Chicago Tribune: “Fourth of July Slaughter,” 10 July 1905, 6; “Call the Roll of July 4th Deaths,” 1 Sept 1905, 6; “Medical View of the Fatal Fourth,” 17 Aug 1906, 5; Nickerson 2012).
Sir Mortimer Durand . . . did it with some reluctance] In his toast to the president Sir Mortimer said, “Since England came to the conclusion, a hundred and thirty years ago, somewhat reluctantly if I remember right, that she had no further use for her American Colonies, our ways have diverged” (Lathem 2006, 199).
that memorable proclamation . . . set the black slave free] The Emancipation Proclamation, issued by Abraham Lincoln on 1 January 1863, freed the slaves in territories which were in rebellion against the Union. Slavery throughout the United States was abolished by the Thirteenth Amendment to the Constitution in 1865.
England led the way, for she had set her slaves free] The Slavery Abolition Act of 1833 outlawed slavery in the British Empire (with the exception of some territories).
when a slave . . . sets his foot upon English soil, his fetters by that act fall away] In the case of Shanley v. Harvey (1762), the Lord Chancellor, Robert Henley, first earl of Northington, ruled that “as soon as a man sets foot on English ground he is free” (Hurd 1858–62, 1:186). This referred literally to England, and not to its colonies.
President Murray Butler] Nicholas Murray Butler (1862–1947) was president of Columbia University from 1902 to 1945. He was in England in 1907 to receive an honorary degree from Cambridge (Lathem 2006, 200).
Source document.
TS1 Typescript, leaves numbered 4007–16 (altered in ink to 3107–16 and subsequently to 2207–16), made from Hobby’s notes and a printing of SLC’s Fourth of July speech (unavailable) and revised.TS1 incorporates Clemens’s speech “The Day We Celebrate,” delivered on 4 July 1907 in London. He says he replicates and adapts “the official report of that effort . . . striking out the bracketed ‘laughters’ and ‘renewed laughters.’ ” That publication has not been certainly identified, and the text of the speech, like that of the rest of the dictation, is based on TS1 as revised by Clemens.