To Liverpool with Tay Pay. Banquet in the Town Hall in the evening.

The Lord Mayor said that before calling on Mr. T. P. O’Connor to propose the toast of “Our GuestⒶtextual note” he would like, on their own behalf and on behalf of all citizens of Liverpool, to offer a most hearty welcome to Dr. ClemensⒶtextual note, the guest of the eveningⒶtextual note. Liverpool highly appreciated the honour which Dr. ClemensⒶtextual note had done it in accepting his (the Lord Mayor’s) invitation to meet such a body of Liverpool citizens [begin page 147] as he had the pleasure of seeing around him that evening. There was no man in the world to-day speaking the English tongue who had brought so much mirth and happiness to the citizens of this Empire and of the United States. That would be a red letter day in the annals of LiverpoolⒶtextual note. Mark Twain had, he thought, made his year of office to some extent famous, and he hoped that he might be remembered as being the Lord Mayor of Liverpool in Mark Twain’s yearⒶtextual note.

OurⒶtextual note friend has a name,Ⓐtextual note our pet name, our family name for himⒶtextual note. I will speak of him as Mark TwainⒶtextual note. This is the manner in which we address him in our thoughts and private words. I feel it is a great honour to have to propose, in one of England’s greatest cities, the toast of the most honoured and respected guest that England has had for many a year. Our guest of this evening has received a welcome of which an Emperor might be proud, and which I do not think any Emperor we know will be likely to receiveⒶtextual note. We honour him in the first place as a great man of lettersⒶtextual note. As a humourist he was known to the world many a day ago. His humour, when it first burst upon the horizon of literature, occasioned in this country, above all, the feeling that there was something new and original, and for a long time most people in this country would have thought of Mark Twain simply as a writer of our language whoⒶtextual note told the stories which gave everybody hours of happiness and mirth. But, as I ventured to say when writing about him some time ago, Mark Twain has come to his ownⒺexplanatory note,Ⓐtextual note and people have recognised that what first appeared to be merely the exuberant humour of a great new country, and, to a certain extent, of a new literature, was destined to become one of the classicsⒶtextual note of the great English language, which is the heritage alike of America and England. It was, perhaps, a surprise to some, as time went on, to find that underneath the wild and exuberant gaiety of his early works our friend Mark Twain had always a serious and earnest purposeⒶtextual note. Sometimes in the midst of what appeared to be the very recklessness of his fun you come across in his books some passage of serious purpose and sometimes of tragic earnestness. We know that one of the reasons why he holds so high a place in our esteem and affection is that he is a man who has always fought for the right and always hated the wrongⒶtextual note. Within the last two or three years he has dealt stern and sturdy blows at the sordid superstition of Christian ScienceⒶtextual note, and at the gross cruelty of a man who does not deserve the name of King.*Ⓐtextual note In a speech which I heard him make at a banquet in London he uttered something approaching to an apology for the humour of his worksⒺexplanatory note. I will not say he deemed it necessary to explain—because no explanation was necessaryⒶtextual note—that a man may have a serious purpose and yet speak the language of laughter and cheerfulness. I don’t know whether I will be right in laying it down as a theory of literature that while the authors of tragedies and melodramas are respected by mankind, it is the great humorist that is really loved by mankindⒶtextual note. It is not because laughter is suchⒶtextual note a relief to a great deal of the necessary sombreness of life that the humorist is so loved, but it is because the man with the gift of humour has always the great gift of a sane and healthy point of view of

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*Leopold of Belgium. [begin page 148] human lifeⒶtextual note. I have no patience with those decadents who see nothing in life but its squalid side, its impure side, and its ignoble sideⒶtextual note. Men of that kind may be described as the Jack-the-Rippers of literature.Ⓐtextual note Their influence was demoralising and bad, not teaching men the great lesson that the improvement of man’s estate is illimitable, and that in any case it is our duty to live our lives in the best way we can, and to help future generations to higher and better things. I don’t know of any writer who hasⒶtextual note preached the gospel of true, sincere, and genuine optimism better than our guest of this eveningⒶtextual note. If you were to ask me what has struck me as the most striking quality of Dr. Clemens as a man of letters, I would say it was his originality. There never was a Mark Twain before him, and there never will be againⒶtextual note. He stands unique in the absolute originality of his geniusⒶtextual note and writings. The second quality which is eminently his is his Americanism. I have read a good deal about one of the greatest of Americans—Abraham Lincoln—and the eulogy that was the highest, and best, and shortest is contained in the poem of James Russell LowellⒺexplanatory note in which he speaks of Abraham Lincoln as the first American in the fullest sense of the word that had occupied the chair of President. As Lincoln came fresh and, as it were, bleeding from the soil, so Dr. Clemens came from the very roots of American life and experience. Beginning in the home of a lawyer, with a brother a journalist, he started in theⒶtextual note State of CaliforniaⒶtextual note when that was in its teething stage. He has been a lecturer, traveller, publisher, inventor, and he has even been a financierⒶtextual note. Cardinal Richelieu would not have been flattered if he had been told that he was one of the greatest statesmen of the world, but to insert in an obscure poet’s corner one of his extremely bad poems he would have regarded as recognising his true genius. In the same way, if I could state that Mark Twain is as big a financier as his friend Mr. Rogers, of the Standard Oil, he would regard it as a compliment. However, I am not in a position to do that, nor, I believe, is Mr. ClemensⒶtextual note himself. There was in his career an episode which has especially appealedⒶtextual note to us, and was in some respects like an episode in the life of one of the heroes and martyrs of our literary history—I mean Sir Walter Scott. Sir Walter Scott became a member ofⒶtextual note a great publishing firm. So did Dr. Clemens some years ago, when heⒶtextual note was making a large income in what IⒶtextual note may be excused in calling one of the finest of human pursuits—that of a journalistⒶtextual note. At an early age he started as a compositor, and in his teens he was an acting editor, and I believe there was a large accession of libel suits during that periodⒶtextual note. From that he went to the broad Mississippi, that great inland sea, and learned the work of pilot. Then he went to the West and became a mining prospector and pioneer. Walter ScottⒶtextual note thought with Richelieu and Mark Twain that his true mission was publishing. Face to face with the dark spectre of ruin, he set to work and managed to rescue some of his fortune, but he died in his workⒺexplanatory note. Our friend Dr. Clemens has had a similar experience, but with the tough and unconquerable energyⒶtextual note of his race he successfullyⒶtextual note faced the situation. He travelled all over the world. Thousands of people were only too glad to help him, but he relied only on his own energy, his own unimpeachable integrity of purpose, and at the end of three years of hard drudgery, lecturing in all parts of the world, he was able to say that he was a free man, owing not a penny,Ⓐtextual note and to give an example of a man of courage and energy and honesty in the face of calamityⒶtextual note. But, gentlemen, when he travelled down the Mississippi, when he went from one town to another all through America, from office to office; when he saw the mines in Nevada and California, he was going through that great university of life which has made him the great man of letters [begin page 149] he is to-dayⒶtextual note. And when he went down to Oxford I think there was a great meeting—I think I may say a great reconciliation—Ⓐtextual note between two things which are apparently opposite. We all know and love Oxford, the greatest sanctuary and treasure-house of tradition and classical learning of many epochs in British history—Ⓐtextual note the representative and symbol of all that is old-world in tradition and history. And when that old-world University held out its hand and gave its highest honour to this man representing a new land, modern traditions, an entirely unique genius untrammelled by the traditions of the old, I say that was a great reconciliation which marked not only an epoch in the life of Dr. ClemensⒶtextual note, but of Oxford itselfⒶtextual note. Finally, we welcome him as an American who has tried many trades. But there is one he has avoided—I don’t know why he avoided it, or whether I ought to congratulate or condole with him—he has never been a politician.Ⓐtextual note And why has he never been a politician? Because he occupies the higher and greater position of ambassador—an ambassador plenipotentiaryⒶtextual note in his omnipotence over our hearts and mindsⒶtextual note. A diplomatist cannot enter into the passing ferocities of party warfare. He represents something higher and better than one party in one State. He represents all that seeks for the peace and goodwill among all parties in all StatesⒶtextual note. And to-night we welcome him as a great American working for this goodwill between his own race and the races of all mankindⒶtextual note. Therefore, I ask you to charge your glasses and wish many years of life toⒶtextual note our friend—the glory of his own country and the delight of every other countryⒶtextual note.

IⒶtextual note don’t think I will say anything about the relations of amityⒶtextual note existing between our two countries. It is not necessary, it seems to me. The ties between the two nations are so strong that I do not think we need trouble ourselves about theirⒶtextual note being brokenⒶtextual note. Anyhow, I am quite sure that in my time, and in yours, my Lord Mayor, those ties will hold good, and, please God, they always willⒶtextual note. English blood is in our veins, we have a common language, a common religion, a common system of morals, and great commercial interests to hold us togetherⒶtextual note. Home is dear to us all, and now I am departing to my own home beyond the ocean. Oxford has conferred upon me the loftiest honourⒶtextual note that has ever fallen to my share of this world’s good thingsⒶtextual note. It is the very one I would have chosen as outranking any and all others, the one more precious to me thanⒶtextual note any and all others within the gift of man or StateⒶtextual note. During my four weeks sojourn here I have had another lofty honour, a continuous honour, an honour which has flowed serenely along, without obstruction, through all these twenty-six days, a most moving and pulse-stirringⒶtextual note honour—the heartfelt grip of the hand, and the welcome that does not descend from the paleⒶtextual note grey matter of the brain, but rushes up with the red blood from the heart!Ⓐtextual note It makes me proudⒶtextual note and it makes me humble, tooⒶtextual note. Many and many a year ago I read an anecdote in Dana’s “Two Years Before the MastⒶtextual note.”Ⓔexplanatory note It was like this. There was a presumptuous little self-important man in a coasting sloop engaged in the dried apple and kitchen furniture trade, and he was always hailing every ship that came in sight. He did it just to hear himself talk and to air his small grandeur. One day a majestic Indiaman came ploughing by with course on course of canvas towering into the sky, her decks [begin page 150] and yards swarming with sailors, bearing a rich freight of precious spices, lading the breezes with gracious and mysterious odours of the OrientⒶtextual note. It was a noble spectacle, and, of course, the little skipper popped into the shroudsⒶtextual note and squeaked out a hail—“Ship ahoy! What ship is that? And whence and whither?” In a deep and thunderous bassⒶtextual note the answer came through the speaking trumpet—“The Begum of Bengal—123 days out from Canton—homeward bound!Ⓐtextual note What ship is that?” Well, it just crushed that poor little creature’s vanityⒶtextual note, and he squeaked back most humbly “Only the Mary Ann, fourteen hoursⒶtextual note out from Boston—Ⓐtextual notewith nothing to speak of.”Ⓐtextual note Oh, what an eloquent word that “only” to express the depth of his humblenessⒶtextual note! That is just my case. Just one hour, perhaps, in the twenty-four—not more—I pause and reflect, and then I am humble. Then I am properly meek, and for a little while I am only theⒶtextual note Mary Ann, fourteen hours out, cargoed with vegetables and tinware; but during all the other twenty-three hours my vain self-complacency rides high, and then I am a stately Indiaman, ploughing the great seas under a cloud of canvas and laden with the kindestⒶtextual note words that have ever been spoken to any wandering alien in this world, and then my twenty-six happy days seem to be multiplied by five, and I am the Begum of Bengal, 123 days out—and (a sigh) homeward bound!Ⓐtextual note