§ 119. Jim Smiley and His Jumping Frog
18 November 1865
(This headnote is repeated in numbers 117–119.)
In 1896 Clemens' close friend Joseph Hopkins Twichell said that the “celebrated ‘Jumping Frog of Calaveras County’ . . . was a story (it had some basis of fact) with which [Clemens] had long been wont on occasion to entertain private circles. When at some one's urgency he at length wrote it out, it appeared to him so poor and flat that he pigeonholed it in contempt, and it required further urgency to persuade him to let it be printed.”1 This statement is almost certainly based on a conversation with Clemens, and as a capsule history of the jumping frog story it seems about right, for it is corroborated by other collateral accounts and by the three sketches grouped together here. “The Only Reliable Account” (no. 117) and “Angel's Camp Constable” (no. 118) are taken from two of the author's holographs preserved by his sister, Pamela, and now in the Jean Webster McKinney Family Papers at Vassar. They have not been published before. The third is taken from the New York Saturday Press of [begin page 263] 18 November 1865, where Clemens first published his most famous tale. The evidence of the manuscripts—paper, ink color, style of handwriting, and content—is that Clemens wrote both late in 1865, probably soon before he wrote “Jim Smiley and His Jumping Frog.” Both manuscripts were abandoned: they are complete, but obviously unfinished, since their last pages remain only partly filled. We conjecture that they were among the “poor and flat” versions that Clemens reportedly pigeonholed in contempt, and that they were written in September or during the first two weeks of October 1865. And we further conjecture that “Jim Smiley and His Jumping Frog” (no. 119) was composed rapidly, between October 16 and 18, although it was not published in New York until a month later.
Clemens had left San Francisco in early December 1864 to visit Jim Gillis and Dick Stoker at Jackass Hill, California. The purpose of this retreat from the pressures of the city to the calm of backwoods mining towns is not certainly known, but Clemens appears to have been in a somber mood. While at Jackass Hill and nearby Angel's Camp he and his companions were confined indoors by the continuous winter rain, and so they listened to the miners and residents tell a variety of anecdotes from the local collection of folklore. Clemens recorded a number of stories in his notebooks. “New Years night—dream of Jim Townsend—'I could take this x x x book & x x x every x x x in California, from San Francisco to the mountains,'” he wrote. On about January 25 he added, “Met Ben Coon, Ill river pilot here.” And then on about February 6 he wrote, “Coleman with his jumping frog—bet stranger $50—stranger had no frog, & C got him one—in the meantime stranger filled C's frog full of shot & he couldn't jump—the stranger's frog won.”2
Writing to Jim Gillis five years later, Clemens said in part:
You remember the one gleam of jollity that shot across our dismal so-journ in the rain & mud of Angel's Camp—I mean that day we sat around the tavern stove & heard that chap tell about the frog & how they filled him with shot. And you remember how we quoted from the yarn & laughed over it, out there on the hillside while you & dear old Stoker panned & washed. I jotted the story down in my note-book that day, & would have been glad to get ten or fifteen dollars for it—I was just that blind. But then we were so hard up.3
And in 1894 Clemens again recalled the occasion, this time in somewhat greater detail:
I heard the story told by a man who was not telling it to his hearers as a thing new to them, but as a thing which they had witnessed and would [begin page 264] remember. He was a dull person, and ignorant; he had no gift as a story-teller, and no invention; in his mouth this episode was merely history —history and statistics; and the gravest sort of history, too; he was entirely serious, for he was dealing with what to him were austere facts, and they interested him solely because they were facts; he was drawing on his memory, not his mind; he saw no humor in his tale, neither did his listeners; neither he nor they ever smiled or laughed; in my time I have not attended a more solemn conference. To him and to his fellow gold-miners there were just two things in the story that were worth considering. One was, the smartness of the stranger in taking in its hero, Jim Smiley, with a loaded frog; and the other was the stranger's deep knowledge of a frog's nature—for he knew (as the narrator asserted and the listeners conceded) that a frog likes shot and is always ready to eat it. Those men discussed those two points, and those only. They were hearty in their admiration of them, and none of the party was aware that a first rate story had been told, in a first rate way, and that it was brimful of a quality whose presence they never suspected—humor.4
Clemens did not here specify who the “chap” was who told this story. But the anecdote itself had been current in oral and written folklore for years, and one version, probably written by James W. E. Townsend (the same Townsend whose dream Clemens recorded on New Year's night), had appeared in the Sonora Herald in 1853.5
On 26 February 1865 Clemens returned from his three-and-one-half-month stay in the mining camps. “Home again,” he recorded in his notebook for that day, “home again at the Occidental Hotel, San Francisco—find letters from ‘Artemus Ward’ asking me to write a sketch for his new book of Nevada Territory travels which is soon to come out. Too late—ought to have got the letters 3 months ago. They are dated early in November.”6 Presumably Clemens wrote as much to Ward on or about March 1, also mentioning some of his recent experiences in Angel's [begin page 265] Camp—perhaps including the jumping frog story. In a letter (now lost) that could not have reached Clemens before the first of May, Ward apparently said, “Write it. . . . There is still time to get it into my volume of sketches. Send it to Carleton, my publisher in New York.” Albert Bigelow Paine, who recorded this phrase as Clemens remembered it, said that the author “promised to do this, but delayed fulfillment somewhat.”7
Indeed, it seems likely that Clemens did delay for several months. On March 18, however, he published his first experiment with the narrator Coon—almost certainly based on the Illinois river pilot he had met, Ben Coon—in “An Unbiased Criticism” (no. 100). On June 17 he introduced the narrator Simon Wheeler, who was clearly derived from Coon, and to whom Clemens now attributed “He Done His Level Best” (“Answers to Correspondents,” no. 107). For most of June he was kept busy writing a weekly column of answers to correspondents for Bret Harte's Californian, but it must have been about this time that he was accustomed “to entertain private circles” with the frog story. Bret Harte recalled hearing it shortly after Clemens returned from “the mining districts.”
In the course of conversation he remarked that the unearthly laziness that prevailed in the town he had been visiting was beyond anything in his previous experience. He said the men did nothing all day long but sit around the bar-room stove, spit, and “swop lies.” He spoke in a slow, rather satirical drawl, which was in itself irresistible. He went on to tell one of those extravagant stories, and half unconsciously dropped into the lazy tone and manner of the original narrator. . . . The story was “The Jumping Frog of Calaveras.”8
While in London in March 1897, Clemens gave the following further account of the story's genesis to James Ross Clemens:
The idea of writing the Jumping Frog Story only very slowly took shape in my mind . . . and was discarded time and time again as being too far-fetched. In fact I had actually written out a delightful story which James Townsend, the prototype of Harte's “Truthful James,” had told one day in Lundie Diggings about a tame fox who used to sweep his master's cabin and dust off the furniture with his unusually bushy tail—but for some reason or other I simply couldn't get the thing just to my liking. [begin page 266] Each time I rewrote it, it seemed less humorous than when originally told by the inimitable Townsend.
Then one dismal afternoon as I lay on my hotel bed, completely nonplussed and about determined to inform Artemus that I had nothing appropriate for his collection, a still small voice began to make itself heard.
“Try me! Try me! Oh, please try me! Please do!”
It was the poor little jumping frog, “Henry Clay,” that old Ben Coon had described! Because of the insistence of its pleading and for want of a better subject, I immediately got up and wrote out the tale for my friend who had followed up his first letter with several more requests. But if it hadn't been for the little fellow's apparition in this strange fashion, I never would have written about him—at least not at that time.9
It seems unlikely that Clemens' frog “Daniel Webster” was ever called “Henry Clay,” but the confusion of orators (if not of politics) is understandable and may be due to James Ross Clemens' faulty memory. The other facts ring true: the suggestion that Jim Townsend's story about a domestic fox preceded the frog story as the subject of Wheeler's monologue, the indication that the final story “only very slowly took shape,” the attribution of the original narration to Ben Coon, and the statement that Artemus Ward had written “several more” letters urging Clemens to send a contribution. Twichell had said in 1896, less than a year earlier, that Clemens first pigeonholed his manuscript and returned to it only after “further urgency” had been applied. These later letters from Ward could hardly have reached Clemens much before the beginning of September 1865.
The two manuscripts published here, as well as the earlier experiments with Ben Coon and Simon Wheeler published in the Californian, suggest that Clemens saw the humorous possibilities of his narrator more clearly than he saw how to bring that narrator and his frog story into conjunction. At least two closely related problems seem to have been troubling him: precisely what stance to adopt toward his vernacular narrator (how much or how little condescension), and how to simulate the effect he could achieve so easily in oral narration when, as Harte remarked, he “half unconsciously dropped into the lazy tone and manner of the original narrator.” In “The Only Reliable Account” Clemens addressed Ar- [begin page 267] temus Ward much as he would in the third version, offering him the sketch for “the history of your travels,” and characterizing Wheeler as a “venerable rural historian” living in “unostentatious privacy,” from whom he had obtained a “just and true account” of the jumping frog. But Clemens then spent almost as many words as the finished tale would require simply sketching the “decaying city of Boomerang.” He never got around to letting Wheeler speak at all, much less tell the frog story.
“Angel's Camp Constable,” on the other hand, seems to be an effort to correct this tendency to overemphasize the frame story. It begins: “I was told that if I would mention any of the venerable Simon Wheeler's pet heroes casually, he would be sure to tell me all about them, but that I must not laugh during the recital, as he would think I was making fun of them, and it would give him mortal offense.” After this we are plunged almost immediately into Wheeler's monologue. The introductory sentences suggest, however, that Constable Bilgewater—a name Clemens had also recorded in his notebook at Angel's Camp10—was only the first of Wheeler's “pet heroes” to be treated in the story. These sentences also warn us rather too directly that his “recital” is supposed to be humorous, and they cast the author as clearly condescending toward “the old gentleman [who] oozed gratified vanity at every pore.” Like the first version, however, this one never gets around to telling the story of the jumping frog: the manuscript is another false start, and Clemens did not mention his grandiose constable again until sometime in August 1878.11
These technical difficulties were tied up with Clemens' conception of himself, particularly his doubts about pursuing the “low” calling of a humorist. Partly because of when they were written, and partly because Simon Wheeler's monologues are a kind of literary free association, we find a number of circumstances in these stories that mirror the conflict between ambition and self-doubt that Clemens appears to have experienced. In the lingering description of the backwater community of Boomerang, for instance, Clemens conveys something of the nostalgia he would feel for the Quarles Farm. But the nostalgia is complicated here by the fact that Boomerang sits unwittingly on immense mineral [begin page 268] wealth—wealth that has been quietly bought up by a “New York company” from the residents, who fail to recognize the value of what they own. Passive retirement is no solution. On the other hand, Constable Bilgewater has foolishly resigned his post in Angel's Camp because “they'd heard of him in New York, I reckon, and I s'pose they wanted him there, and so he went. And he was right. There warn't business enough here for a man of his talents, though what there was he made the most of.” Bilgewater's view of his own vocation, like Simon Wheeler's respect for him, are comic precisely because both are so contrary to the facts. But even here it is not quite clear how Mark Twain judges Bilgewater, “who attained to considerable eminence, and whom I have frequently heard of in various parts of the world.”
Clemens, too, had begun to be heard of in New York. His Californian sketches were being reprinted there, as Webb had noted in January and February 1865. And probably on October 17, the day before he finished the manuscript of “Jim Smiley and His Jumping Frog,” Clemens saw an article in the New York Round Table that placed him among the “foremost” of the “merry gentlemen of the California press.” On October 19 he confided to Orion that he would now pursue his fame as a humorist, “unworthy & evanescent though it must of necessity be,” despite the fact that his talent had been deprived of the “steam of education.” He explained that it was “only now, when editors of standard literary papers in the distant east give me high praise . . . that I really begin to believe there must be something in it.”12 Clemens' self-doubts, particularly about his education, also appear in the third, published version of the tale. As Henry Nash Smith pointed out in 1962, the “elegiac theme of mute inglorious Miltons” applies to all of Simon Wheeler's “pet [begin page 269] heroes,” including Daniel Webster: “Smiley said all a frog wanted was education, and he could do most anything—and I believe him.”13 Both the fear of being forgotten and unjustly obscure, like Boomerang, and the fear of being ridiculed for his presumption, like Bilgewater, appear indirectly in the basic fantasies of these three stories. “I wonder what they think of him in New York,” says Wheeler about his hero. It is a comic question precisely because of its childlike assumption that fame cannot have failed to attend Bilgewater “in New York.”
An abundance of evidence suggested in 1967 that Clemens wrote the third version of his sketch in the week of 16 to 23 October 1865.14 It now seems likely, although not certain, that Clemens actually composed it between 16 and 18 October, presumably having reached the point of near despair he described for James Ross Clemens. He probably did not send his manuscript to New York by overland mail, which took about one month and remained an uncertain means at best. Because he doubtless knew Ward's book was nearing publication, and because transit time by Pacific Mail Steamship could be as brief as twenty-one days between San Francisco and New York,15 it seems likely that Clemens chose this method instead. The only steamer to leave San Francisco in the week of 16 to 23 October was the Golden City, which departed at 11:20 a.m. “with 72 packages United States mails” on October 18; its cargo was transferred by rail across the Isthmus of Panama to the Ocean Queen, which arrived in New York on November 10. (The next steamer to leave San Francisco was the Colorado on October 30, and its cargo did not arrive in New York until December 4.)16 If Clemens did as we suppose, then one week must have elapsed between the arrival of the mails in New York on November 10 and publication in the Saturday Press on [begin page 270] November 18. On November 11 George W. Carleton advertised Artemus Ward: His Travels as ready “this morning” in the New York Tribune, although the book was probably published even earlier than that (piracies appeared in England by November 18 at the latest). In any case, Carleton would have been unable to include Clemens' sketch in Ward's book and could easily have turned the manuscript over to the editor of the Press, Henry Clapp, saying, as Clemens recalled in 1897, “Here, Clapp, here's something you can use!”17 Clemens himself noted in January 1866 that his sketch was “a squib which would never have been written but to please Artemus Ward, & then it reached New York too late to appear in his book.” And one year later he said, while preparing the sketch for his Jumping Frog book, that it was “originally written, by request, for Artemus Ward's last book, but arrived in New York after that work had gone to press.”18
In mid-September the Californian had noted a general revival in periodical literature in the East, following the end of the war. It particularly mentioned “the smart Saturday Press,”
whilom a “brief abstract and chronicle” of “Pfaff's,” snappy with absinthian wit, and dying of its own Bohemian excesses and dissipations, [which] has been revived under apparently more moral auspices, and in respectable quarto form. Let us hope that this corruption has put on incorruption. Artemus Ward is a contributor to its first number in a not over-bright theatrical criticism.19
This may explain why Clemens thought, as he said years later, that the Press was close to collapse. Certainly its editor was quite genuinely happy to publish “Jim Smiley and His Jumping Frog” and to promise—accurately, but on what authority is not known—future contributions from the same pen.
We give up the principal portion of our editorial space, to-day, to an exquisitely humorous sketch—“Jim Smiley and his Jumping Frog”—by Mark Twain, who will shortly become a regular contributor to our columns. Mark Twain is the assumed name of a writer in California who has long been a favorite contributor to the San Francisco press, from [begin page 271] which his articles have been so extensively copied as to make him nearly as well known as Artemus Ward.20
Within three weeks of publication the sketch had, like its less distinguished predecessors, been widely reprinted. The New York correspondent of the San Francisco Alta California, Richard Ogden (“Podgers”), wrote on December 10 to say that it had “set all New York in a roar. . . . I have been asked fifty times about it and its author, and the papers are copying it far and near. It is voted the best thing of the day.” He added a question that may have touched Bret Harte on a tender place: “Cannot the Californian afford to keep Mark all to itself? It should not let him scintillate so widely without first being filtered through the California press.”21 Even before this report arrived, however, Bret Harte had acknowledged the value of Clemens' latest work by reprinting it, on December 16, in the Californian—incorporating a few changes that Clemens himself may have authorized. But the full nature and extent of the eastern storm of praise did not reach California until Podgers' letter was published on 10 January 1866. Three days later Charles Henry Webb said in his column “Inigoings” in the Californian: “I should have expressed my pleasure at the hit which ‘Podgers’ says Mark Twain has made at the East in ‘Jim Smiley and his Jumping Frog.’ But he deserves it all. For he's a good fellow, and his sketch ‘is good’ . . . better than any of their funny fellows can do.”22
Clemens' own reaction to this success was mixed. The day after Podgers' remarks were published he told the local reporter of the San Francisco Examiner about an old ambition, recently revived. The Examiner said, in part, “That rare humorist, ‘Mark Twain,’ whose fame is rapidly extending all over the country, informs us that he has commenced the work of writing a book.”23 To his family on January 20 he confided that [begin page 272] he was actually thinking of three books, and he enclosed a clipping of Podgers' comments in the Alta, adding a note of self-deprecation: “To think that after writing many an article a man might be excused for thinking tolerably good, those New York people should single out a villainous backwoods sketch to compliment me on!—‘Jim Smiley & His Jumping Frog.’ ” This low opinion of his sketch would soon change. In June 1866 he proudly reported the approval of Anson Burlingame and his son; in April 1867 he said that James Russell Lowell had pronounced “the Jumping Frog . . . the finest piece of humorous writing ever produced in America”; and in December 1869 he endorsed this view in a letter to Olivia Langdon, saying he thought it “the best humorous sketch America has produced, yet.”24 In 1867 Clemens gave the sketch pride of place in the Jumping Frog book, but even though he continued to reprint it, he seemed to convey his low opinion of it by planning to use it in the various cheap pamphlets that so obsessed him from 1870 until 1874. The original version is reprinted here. It was revised by both Clemens and his editor, Webb, for the 1867 Jumping Frog book, and revised again in 1872 and 1874.25 But whatever the author's later opinion of it, “Jim Smiley and His Jumping Frog” was an impeccably shaped yarn that took extraordinary delight in someone's saying humorous things without being aware of it.26 And it both expressed and to some extent resolved the personal dilemma Clemens was feeling about his calling as a humorist.
“Mark Twain,” Harper's New Monthly Magazine 92 (May 1896): 818.
“Private History of the ‘Jumping Frog’ Story” (no. 365), first published in the North American Review 158 (April 1894): 446–453. Clemens corrected this version when he reprinted the story in the “authorized Uniform Edition” of How to Tell a Story and Other Essays (1899). That correction is adopted here.
Oscar Lewis, The Origin of the Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County (San Francisco: Book Club of California, 1931); N&J1 , p. 69. Clemens' use of the words “Only Reliable Account” and “Celebrated” in his title indicates that he claimed no originality for the story itself, even though it was doubtless he who created Smiley's many “pet heroes.” As late as September 1867, however, critics in California were carping at his assimilation of folklore. The San Francisco Times said on September 6: “We must confess to experiencing some doubt as to his originality when we are told that his famous story ‘The Jumping Frog of Calaveras,’ was really written by Sam Seabough, now of the Sacramento Union, and by ‘Mark’ appropriated for his own” (“Not Exactly the Correct Thing,” quoted in “A Literary Piracy,” Californian 7 [7 September 1867]: 8).
MTB , 1:277. The quotation from Artemus Ward was not from a letter, but “in accordance with Mr. Clemens's recollection of the matter.” Since Paine knew that Ward was not on the Pacific Coast at this time it seemed likely “that the telling of the frog story and his approval of it were accomplished by exchange of letters.”
Twichell, “Mark Twain,” p. 818; T. Edgar Pemberton, The Life of Bret Harte (New York: Dodd, Mead and Co., 1903), p. 74. See also “ ‘The Jumping Frog of Calaveras’ by Mark Twain with an Introductory and Explanatory Note by J. G. H.,” Overland Monthly 40 (September 1902): 287–288.
Quoted in YSC , pp. 216–217. Cyril Clemens introduced the document in the following words: “Back in the bustling city again, at the Occidental Hotel, he found among a batch of mail a letter from Artemus Ward begging a contribution for a new anthology of humor. At first he did not know what to send, and he gave the author's father, James Ross Clemens, a very interesting account (now for the first time published) of how he solved the problem.” The nature of this account is not known, but it was probably a transcription of a conversation, not a holograph by the author.
About January 30, just a few days before hearing the frog story, he wrote: “W Bilgewater, says she, Good God what a name” ( N&J1 , p. 76). For a list of other occurrences of the name in Clemens' work, see the explanatory note on it for “Answers to Correspondents” (no. 109).
In his notebook for that time he wrote: “The Angel's Camp constable who always saw everything largely. Two men walking tandem was a procession; &2 3 men fighting was a riot; 5 &a riot; 15 an insurrection, & &25 15 a revolution” ( N&J2 , p. 136). It is not known whether Clemens in fact wrote anything further about the constable.
“American Humor and Humorists,” New York Round Table, 9 September 1865, p. 2; Clemens to Orion and Mollie Clemens, 19–20 October 1865, CL1 , letter 95. Clemens wrote Orion the day after this extract from the Round Table had appeared in “Recognized,” San Francisco Dramatic Chronicle, 18 October 1865, p. 3. Since Clemens was contributing to the Chronicle on a casual basis (see the headnote to “Enthusiastic Eloquence,” no. 111) and had just joined the paper's staff on a slightly more formal basis ( CL1 , letter 95), it seems likely that he saw the Round Table article before the Chronicle quoted from it. He certainly saw it before the Californian quoted from it on Saturday, October 23 (p. 5). It should be noted that Bret Harte was well aware of the significance of such recognition and what it implied about the local audience. On 11 November 1865 he criticized California's taste and said in part: “A California humorist, whose crude, but original sketches have been a feature of our local press, is handsomely recognised by a critical Eastern authority, and the criticism read here by a class who never before heard of the humorist” (“Home Culture,” Californian 3 [11 November 1865]: 8).
Edgar M. Branch, “ ‘My Voice Is Still for Setchell’: A Background Study of ‘Jim Smiley and His Jumping Frog,’ ” PMLA 82 (December 1967): 591–601.
The steamship Colorado arrived in San Francisco on October 24, for instance, “bringing the passengers and mails that left New York October 2d, and making the trip in the very quick time of 21 days” (“Arrival of the Steamship ‘Colorado,’ ” San Francisco Evening Bulletin, 24 October 1865, p. 3). The Bulletin of November 24, however, could publish New York news only to October 26—a typical time lag for overland mail.
“Arrival of the Steamship ‘Golden City,’ ” San Francisco Evening Bulletin, 24 November 1865, p. 3; “Shipping Intelligence . . . Arrived,” New York Tribune, 11 November 1865, p. 7; “Arrival of the Steamship ‘Colorado,’ ” San Francisco Evening Bulletin, 4 December 1865, p. 5; “Shipping Intelligence . . . Arrived,” New York Tribune, 5 December 1865, p. 7. Clemens might have made use of other steamers from the opposition lines, but none left within the period during which he completed his sketch.
New York Tribune, 11 November 1865, p. 2; “Literary Items,” New York Tribune, 18 November 1865, p. 9; quoted in YSC , p. 217. Paine gave the line as “Here, Clapp, here's something you can use in your paper” ( MTB , 1:277–278).
Clemens to Jane Clemens and Pamela Moffett, 20 January 1866, CL1 , letter 97; page 23A of the Yale Scrapbook, reproduced in photofacsimile on p. 528 of the textual introduction in volume 1. The latter inscription must have been written in mid-January or February 1867.
“Revival in the Eastern Literary Press,” Californian 3 (16 September 1865): 8.
Saturday Press, 18 November 1865, p. 248. Clemens said in 1906 that “Clapp used it to help out the funeral of his dying literary journal, The Saturday Press” (AD, 21 May 1906, MTE , p. 144). And in an entry made at an unknown time, commenting on his original notebook entry for the frog story, he wrote: “Wrote this story for Artemus—his idiot publisher, Carleton gave it to Clapp's Saturday Press” ( N&J1 , p. 80).
“Letter from New York,” written 10 December 1865, published in the Alta California, 10 January 1866, p. 1.
“Inigoings,” Californian 4 (13 January 1866): 1. For the details of Clemens' possible alteration of the text for the Californian and his subsequent revisions of the text, see the textual commentary.
“ ‘Mark Twain’ Is Writing a Book,” San Francisco Examiner, 12 January 1866, p. 3. Clemens included a reprinting of this item, probably taken from the steamer edition of the Alta California, in his 20 January 1866 letter to this family ( CL1 , letter 97).
Clemens to Jane Clemens and Pamela Moffett, 20 January 1866, CL1 , letter 97; Clemens to Jane Clemens and Pamela Moffett, 21 June 1866, CL1 , letter 105; Clemens to Jane Clemens et al., 19 April 1867, CL1 , letter 125; Clemens to Olivia Langdon, 14 December 1869, CL2 , letter 129.
See the textual introduction in volume 1, pp. 527–535, 557, 613.
For an excellent analysis of the way this tale exemplifies Clemens' theory of humor, see Paul Baender, “The ‘Jumping Frog’ as a Comedian's First Virtue,” Modern Philology 60 (February 1963): 192–200.
Mr. A. Ward,
Dear Sir:—WellⒶhistorical collation, I called on good-natured, garrulousⒶhistorical collation old Simon Wheeler, and IⒶhistorical collation inquired after your friendⒶhistorical collation Leonidas W. SmileyⒶhistorical collation, as you requested meⒶhistorical collation to do, and I hereunto append the result. If you can get any information out of it you are cordially welcome to it.Ⓐhistorical collation I have a lurkingⒶhistorical collation suspicion that your Leonidas W. SmileyⒶhistorical collation is a myth—that you neverⒶhistorical collation knew such a personage, and that you onlyⒶhistorical collation conjectured that if I asked old Wheeler about him it would remind him of his infamousⒶhistorical collation Jim SmileyⒶhistorical collation, and he would go to work and bore me nearly toⒶhistorical collation death with some infernalⒶhistorical collation reminiscence of him as long and tediousⒶhistorical collation as it should be useless to me. If that was your design, Mr. Ward, it will gratify you to know that itⒶhistorical collation succeeded.
I found Simon Wheeler dozing comfortably by the bar-room stove of the little oldⒶhistorical collation dilapidated tavern in the ancientⒶhistorical collation mining camp of BoomerangⒶemendation Ⓐhistorical collation, and I noticed that he was fat and bald-headed, and had an expression of winning gentleness and simplicity upon his tranquil countenance. He roused up and gave me good-day. I told him a friend of mine had commissioned me to make some inquiries about a cherished companion of his boyhood named Leonidas W. SmileyⒶhistorical collation—Rev. Leonidas W. SmileyⒶhistorical collation—a young minister of the gospel, who he had heardⒶhistorical collation was at one time a resident of this village of BoomerangⒶhistorical collation. I added that if Mr. Wheeler could tell me anything about this Rev. Leonidas W. SmileyⒶhistorical collation, I would feel under many obligations to him.Ⓐtextual note
[begin page 283]Simon Wheeler backed me into a corner and blockaded me there with his chair—and then satⒶtextual note Ⓐhistorical collation down and reeled off the monotonous narrative which follows this paragraphⒶhistorical collation. He never smiled, he never frowned, he never changed his voice from the quiet, gently-flowingⒶhistorical collation key to which he turnedⒶtextual note theⒶhistorical collation initial sentence, he never betrayed the slightest suspicion of enthusiasm—but all through the interminable narrative there ran a vein of impressive earnestness and sincerity, which showed me plainly that so far from his imagining that there was anything ridiculous or funny about his story, he regarded it as a really important matterⒶhistorical collation, and admired its two heroes as men of transcendent genius in finesseⒶhistorical collation. To me, the spectacle of a man drifting serenely along through such a queer yarn without ever smiling was exquisitely absurd. As I said before, I asked him to tell me what he knew of Rev. Leonidas W. SmileyⒶhistorical collation, and he replied as follows. IⒶhistorical collation let him go on in his own way, and never interrupted him once:
ThereⒶhistorical collation was a feller here once by the name of Jim SmileyⒶhistorical collation, in the winter of '49—or maybe it was the spring of '50—I don't recollect exactly, some how, though what makes me think it was one or the other is because I remember the big flume wasn'tⒶhistorical collation finished when he first comeⒶhistorical collation to the camp; but anyway, he was the curiosest man about always betting on anythingⒶemendation that turned up you ever see, if he could get anybody to bet on the other side, and if he couldn't he'd change sides—Ⓐhistorical collationany way thatⒶhistorical collation suited the other man would suit him Ⓐhistorical collation—any way just so's he got a bet, he was satisfied. But still, he was lucky—uncommon lucky; he most always come out winner. He was always ready and laying for a chance; there couldn't be no solitryⒶhistorical collation thing mentioned but whatⒶhistorical collation that feller'd offerⒶhistorical collation to bet on it—and take anyⒶhistorical collation side you please, as I was just telling you: if there was a horse race, you'd find him flushⒶhistorical collation or youⒶhistorical collation find him bustedⒶtextual note at the end of it; if there was a dog-fight, he'd bet on it; if there was a cat-fight, he'd bet on it; if there was a chicken-fight, he'd bet on it; why if there was two birds settingⒶhistorical collation on a fence, he would bet you which one would fly first—or if there was a camp-meeting he would be there reglarⒶhistorical collation to bet on parson Walker, which he judged to be the best exhorter about here, and so he was, too, and a good man; if he even seeⒶhistorical collation a straddle-bug start to go any wheres, he [begin page 284] would bet you how long it would take him to getⒶhistorical collation wherever he was going to, and if you took him up he would follerⒶhistorical collation that straddle-bug to Mexico but what he would find out where he was bound for and how long he was on the roadⒶhistorical collation. Lots of the boys here has seen that SmileyⒶhistorical collation and can tell you about him. Why, it never made no difference to him—he wouldⒶhistorical collation bet on anything Ⓐhistorical collation—the dangdest feller. Parson Walker's wife laid very sick, once, for a good while, and it seemedⒶhistorical collation as if they warn't going to save herⒶhistorical collation; but one morning he come in and SmileyⒶhistorical collation asked himⒶhistorical collation how she was, and he said she was considerableⒶhistorical collation better—thank the Lord for his inf'nit mercy—and coming on so smart that with the blessing of ProvidenceⒶhistorical collation she'd get well yet—and SmileyⒶhistorical collation, before he thought, saysⒶhistorical collation, “Well, I'll reskⒶhistorical collation two-and-a-half thatⒶhistorical collation she don't, anyway.”
Thish-yer SmileyⒶhistorical collation had a mare—the boys called her the fifteen-minute nag, but that was only in fun, you know, because, of course,Ⓐhistorical collation she was faster than that—and he used to win money on that horse, for all she was so slow and always had the asthma, or the distemperⒶhistorical collation, or the consumption, or something of that kind. They used to give her two or three hundred yards' start, and then pass her under way; but always at the fag-end of the race she'd get excited and desperate-like, and come cavorting and spraddlingⒶhistorical collation up, and scattering her legs around limber, sometimes in the air, and sometimes out to one side amongst the fences, and kicking up m-o-r-e dust, and raising m-o-r-e racket with her coughing and sneezing and blowing her noseⒶtextual note—and alwaysⒶhistorical collation fetch up at the stand just about a neck ahead, as near as you could cipher it down.Ⓐhistorical collation
And he had a little small bull-pup, that to look at him you'd think he warn'tⒶhistorical collation worth a cent, butⒶhistorical collation to set around and look orneryⒶhistorical collation, and lay for a chance to steal something. But as soon as money was up onⒶhistorical collation him he was a different dog—his under-jaw'd begin to stick out like the for'castleⒶhistorical collation of a steamboatⒶhistorical collation, and his teeth would uncover, and shine savage like the furnacesⒶhistorical collation. AndⒶhistorical collation a dog might tackle him, and bully-rag him, and bite him, and throw him over his shoulder two or three times, and Andrew Jackson—which was the name of the pup—Andrew Jackson would never let on but what heⒶhistorical collation was satisfied, and hadn't expected nothing else—and the bets being doubled and doubled on the other side all the time, till the money was all up—and then all of a sudden he would grab that other dog justⒶhistorical collation by the jointⒶhistorical collation of his hind legsⒶhistorical collation and freeze to [begin page 285] it—not chaw, you understand, but only justⒶhistorical collation grip and hang on till they throwed up the sponge, if it was a year. SmileyⒶhistorical collation always cameⒶhistorical collation out winner on that pup till he harnessedⒶhistorical collation a dog once that didn't have no hind legs, because they'd been sawedⒶhistorical collation off inⒶhistorical collation a circular saw, and when the thing had gone along far enough, and the money was all up, and he cameⒶhistorical collation to make a snatch for his pet holt, he sawⒶhistorical collation in a minute how he'd been imposed on, and howⒶhistorical collation the other dog had him in the door, so to speak, and he 'peared surprised, and then he looked sorter discouraged like, and didn't try no more to win the fight, and so he got shucked out bad. He gaveⒶhistorical collation SmileyⒶhistorical collation a look as much as to say his heart was broke, and it was his fault, for putting up a dog that hadn't no hind legs for him to take holt of, which was his main dependence in a fight, and then he limped off a piece, and laidⒶhistorical collation down and died. It was a good pup, was that Andrew Jackson, and would have made a name for hisself if he'd lived, for the stuff was in him, and he had genius—I know it, because he hadn't had no opportunities to speak of, and it don't stand to reasonⒶhistorical collation that a dog could make such a fight as he could under them circumstances, if he hadn't no talent.Ⓐhistorical collation It always makes me feel sorry when IⒶhistorical collation think of that last fight of his'onⒶhistorical collation, and the way it turned out.
Well, thish-yer SmileyⒶhistorical collation had rat-terriersⒶhistorical collation and chicken cocks, and tom-cats, and all them kind of things, till you couldn't rest, and you couldn't fetch nothing for him to bet on but he'd match you. He ketched a frog one day and took him home and said he cal'latedⒶhistorical collation to educateⒶhistorical collation him; and so he never done nothing for three months but set in his back yard and learn that frog to jump. And you bet you he did learn him, too. He'd give him a little hunchⒶhistorical collation behind, and the next minute you'dⒶhistorical collation see that frog whirling in the air like a doughnut—see him turn one summerset, or maybe a couple, if he got a good start, and comeⒶhistorical collation down flat-footed and all right, like a cat. He got him up so in the matter of ketchingⒶhistorical collation flies, and keptⒶhistorical collation him in practice so constant, that he'd nail a fly every time as farⒶhistorical collation as he could see him. SmileyⒶhistorical collation said all a frog wanted was education, and he could do mostⒶhistorical collation anything—and I believe him. Why, I've seen him setⒶhistorical collation Dan'l Webster down here on thisⒶhistorical collation floor—Dan'l Webster was the name of the frogⒺexplanatory note—and sing out, “Flies!Ⓐhistorical collation Dan'l, flies,Ⓐhistorical collation” and quicker'n you could wink, he'd springⒶhistorical collation straight up, and snake a fly off'n the counter there, and flop down on the [begin page 286] floor againⒶhistorical collation as solid as a gob of mud, and fall to scratching the side of his head with his hind foot as indifferent as if he hadn't no idea he'd doneⒶhistorical collation any more'n any frog might do.Ⓐtextual note Ⓐhistorical collation You never see a frog so modest and straightfor'ard as he was, for all he was so gifted. And when it come to fair-and-square jumping on a dead level, he could get over more ground at one straddle than any animal of his breed you ever see. Jumping on a dead level was his strong suitⒶhistorical collation, you understand, and when it come to that, SmileyⒶtextual note Ⓐhistorical collation would ante up money on him as long as he had a red. SmileyⒶhistorical collation was monstrous proud of his frog, and well he might be, for fellers that had travelled and benⒶhistorical collation everywheres all said he laid over any frog that ever they see.
Well, SmileyⒶhistorical collation keptⒶhistorical collation the beast in a little lattice box, and he used to fetch him down town sometimes and lay for a bet.Ⓐhistorical collation One day a feller—a stranger in the camp, he was—come acrossⒶhistorical collation him with his box, and says:
“What might it be that you've got in the box?”Ⓐhistorical collation
And SmileyⒶhistorical collation says, sorter indifferent like, “It might be a parrot, or it might be a canary, maybe, but it ain'tⒶhistorical collation—it's only just a frog.”
And the fellerⒶhistorical collation took it, and looked at it careful, and turned it round this way and that, and says, “H'm—so 'tis. Well, what's he good for?”
“Well,” SmileyⒶhistorical collation says, easy and careless, “He's good enough for one thing I should judge—he can out-jump aryⒶhistorical collation frog in Calaveras county.”
The feller took the box again, and took another long, particularⒶhistorical collation look, and giveⒶhistorical collation it back to SmileyⒶhistorical collation and says, very deliberate, “Well—IⒶhistorical collation don't see no pointsⒶhistorical collation about that frog that's any better'n any other frog.”
“Maybe you don't,” SmileyⒶhistorical collation says. “Maybe you understand frogs, and maybe you don't understand 'em; maybe you've had experience, and maybe you ain'tⒶhistorical collation only a amature, as it were. Anyways, I've got my opinion, and I'll reskⒶhistorical collation forty dollars that he can outjump aryⒶhistorical collation frog in Calaveras county.”
And the fellerⒶhistorical collation studied a minute, and then says, kinder sad, like, “Well—I'm only a stranger here, and I ain'tⒶhistorical collation got no frog—but if I hadⒶhistorical collation a frog I'd bet you.”
And then SmileyⒶhistorical collation says, “That's all right—that's all right—if you'll hold my box a minute I'll go and get you a frog;” and so [begin page 287] the feller took the box, and put up his forty dollars along with Smiley'sⒶhistorical collation, and set down to wait.
So he set there a good while thinking and thinking to hisselfⒶhistorical collation, and then he got the frog out and prized his mouth open and took a teaspoon and filled him full of quail-shotⒶhistorical collation—filled him pretty near up to his chin—and set him on the floor. SmileyⒶhistorical collation he went outⒶhistorical collation to the swamp and sloppedⒶhistorical collation around in the mud for a long time, and finally he ketched a frog and fetched him in and giveⒶhistorical collation him to this feller and says:
“NowⒶhistorical collation if you're ready, set him alongside of Dan'l, with his fore-paws just even with Dan'l'sⒶhistorical collation, and I'll give the word.”Ⓐemendation Then he says, “one—two—three—jumpⒶhistorical collation!” and him and the feller touched up the frogs fromⒶhistorical collation behind, and the new frog hopped off livelyⒶhistorical collation, but Dan'lⒶhistorical collation give a heave, and hysted up his shoulders—so—like a Frenchman, but it wasn'tⒶhistorical collation no use—he couldn't budgeⒶhistorical collation; he was planted as solid as a anvilⒶhistorical collation Ⓐtextual note, and he couldn't no more stir than if he was anchored out. SmileyⒶhistorical collation was a good deal surprised, and he was disgusted too, but he didn't have no idea what the matter was, of course.
The feller took the money and started away, and when he was going out at the door he sorter jerked his thumb over his shoulderⒶhistorical collation—this wayⒶhistorical collation—at Dan'l, and says again, very deliberate, “Well—I Ⓐhistorical collation don't see no pointsⒶhistorical collation about that frog that's any better'n any other frog.”
SmileyⒶhistorical collation he stood scratching his head and looking down at Dan'l a long time, and at last he says, “I do wonder what in the nation that frog throwedⒶhistorical collation off for—I wonder if there ain'tⒶhistorical collation something the matter with him—he 'pears to look mighty baggy, somehow”Ⓐemendation—and he ketched Dan'l by the nap of the neck, and lifted him upⒶhistorical collation and says, “Why blame my cats if he don't weigh five pound”—and turned him upside down, and he belched out aboutⒶhistorical collation aⒶtextual note double-handful of shot. And then he see how it was, and he was the maddest man—he set the frog down and took out after that feller, but he never ketched him. And——
[Here Simon Wheeler heard his name called from the front-yard, and got up to go and seeⒶhistorical collation what was wanted.] And turning to me as he moved away, he said: “Just sitⒶhistorical collation where you are, stranger, and rest easy—I ain'tⒶhistorical collation going to be gone a second.”
But by your leave,Ⓐhistorical collation I did not think that a continuation of the [begin page 288] history of the enterprisingⒶhistorical collation vagabondⒶhistorical collation Jim SmileyⒶhistorical collation would be likely to afford me much information concerning the Rev. Leonidas W. SmileyⒶhistorical collation, and so I started away.
At the door I met the sociable Wheeler returning, and he buttonholed me and recommenced:
“Well, thish-yer SmileyⒶhistorical collation had a yaller one-eyed cowⒶhistorical collation that didn't have no tailⒶhistorical collation only justⒶhistorical collation a short stump like a bannanner, and——”
“O, curseⒶhistorical collation SmileyⒶhistorical collation and his afflicted cow!” I muttered, good-naturedly, andⒶhistorical collation bidding the old gentleman good-day, I departed.Ⓐtextual note Ⓐhistorical collation
Yours, truly,
Mark Twain.Ⓐhistorical collation
The portrait of Webster is taken from an engraving of a daguerreotype by John A. Whipple, published in The Life, Eulogy, and Great Orations of Daniel Webster (Rochester: Wilbur M. Hayward and Company, 1854). The illustration of the frog was drawn by True W. Williams for Sketches, New and Old (Hartford: American Publishing Company, 1875). Compare the device of naming the “little small bull-pup” after Andrew Jackson.
Historical Collation
Texts collated:
SP “Jim Smiley and His Jumping Frog,” New York Saturday Press 4 (18 November 1865): 248–249“The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County” in the following
Cal Californian 4 (16 December 1865): 12. Reprints SP with authorial revisions and as many errors.
YSMT Part of a clipping of Cal in the Yale Scrapbook, pp. 23A–26A. Revised and corrected by Mark Twain; served as printer's copy, or the proximate source of copy, for JF1.
JF1 Jumping Frog (New York: Webb, 1867), pp. 7–19. Reprints YSMT with editorial revisions.
JF1MT The copy of an 1869 impression of JF1 revised by Mark Twain. There are extensive revisions and corrections in this sketch, although it was not used as printer's copy for any known reprinting.
JF2 Jumping Frog (London: Routledge, 1867), pp. 9–20. Reprints JF1 with few errors.
JF4 Jumping Frog (London: Routledge, 1870 and 1872), pp. 5–15. Reprints JF2 with few errors.
MTSk Mark Twain's Sketches (London: Routledge, 1872), pp. 13–21. Reprints JF4 with extensive authorial revisions and corrections.
MTSkMT Copy of MTSk revised by Mark Twain, who made no changes in this sketch.
“The Jumping Frog of Calaveras County” in the following
JF3 Jumping Frog (London: Hotten, 1870), pp. 15–22. Reprints JF2 with few errors.
HWa Choice Humorous Works (London: Hotten, 1873), pp. 361–365. Reprints JF3 with few errors.
HWaMT Sheets of HWa revised by Mark Twain, who made no changes in this sketch.
HWb Choice Humorous Works (London: Chatto and Windus, 1874), pp. 361–365. Reprints HWa from unaltered plates.
HWbMT Copy of HWb revised by Mark Twain, who made no changes in this sketch.
“The Notorious Jumping Frog of Calaveras County” in the following
Sk#1 Mark Twain's Sketches, No. 1 (New York: American News Company, 1874), pp. 9–12. Reprints MTSk with authorial revisions.
SkNO Sketches, New and Old (Hartford: American Publishing Company, 1875), pp. 29–35. Reprints Sk#1 with authorial revisions, as part of a longer sketch, no. 364.
The first printing in the New York Saturday Press 4 (18 November 1865): 248–249 (SP) is copy-text. Copies: New York Public Library; PH from Yale; PH of the Yale Scrapbook, pp. 23A–26A; PH in MTP. The present text reprints SP, corrected but unrevised. A second version of the tale, incorporating revisions made by Mark Twain as late as 1874, will appear in its chronological position in this collection as “The Notorious Jumping Frog of Calaveras County” (no. 363).
Reprintings and Revisions. Two factors encouraged Mark Twain to expend more than his usual energy in revising and correcting this sketch: its great fame, and its extensive use of Pike County dialect (David Carkeet, “The Dialects in Huckleberry Finn,” American Literature 51 [November 1979]: 326). Its fame assured that it would be frequently reprinted (ten times in ten years). Its dialect assured that Mark Twain would continue to tinker with the consistency and the form of dialect spellings, and that he would need to correct the frequent errors of his compositors and editors, who tended both to normalize unusual spellings (“risk” instead of “resk”) and to supply nonstandard spellings which he did not want (“cal'klated” instead of his original “cal'lated”). Fortunately, Mark Twain's efforts at revision and correction need not be inferred wholly from the evidence of collation. Two sets of holograph changes—one on the Yale Scrapbook clipping (YSMT) and one on the 1869 Doheny Jumping Frog (JF1MT)—demonstrate how he attended to what might otherwise be treated as compositorial changes in spelling and punctuation. Thus, even when we have only the evidence of collation, a demonstrable pattern does emerge: Mark Twain revised and corrected his text in order to increase the number and the consistency of the nonstandard spellings. For a full discussion of problematic variants, however, see the textual commentary to “The Notorious Jumping Frog of Calaveras County.”
Since Mark Twain was in San Francisco when the sketch first appeared in New York (SP), he could not control the accuracy of that printing, which was presumably based on his manuscript, now lost. Less than a month after SP, however, Bret Harte reprinted the sketch in the San Francisco Californian 4 (16 December 1865): 12 (Cal). Since Harte and Mark Twain were colleagues on the Californian, the author certainly had the opportunity to revise a clipping of SP before it was reprinted in Cal. Collation shows that while Mark Twain revised the printer's copy, introducing a handful of changes only he could have made, he did not read or correct the Cal reprinting in proof, for it contained a number of demonstrable errors as well. Mark Twain may have supplied two needed closing quotation marks toward the end of the sketch (287.11 and 287.28), both corrections adopted in the present text. He probably gave the sketch its new title, “The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County,” for he had used these words one month earlier in the unfinished draft: “The Only Reliable Account of the Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County” (no. 117). He may also have substituted the real place name “Angel's Camp” for the fictional name “Boomerang” used in SP and in the draft. Five revisions of the dialect are also probably the author's changes: “came” became the nonstandard “come” (285.6); “gave” became “give” (285.10); “his'on” became “his'n” (285.20); “throwed” became “throw'd” (287.27); and “sit” became “set” (287.37). Finally, the name “Smiley” was supplanted throughout by “Greeley,” almost certainly because Mark Twain made the change. In an interview published in the Adelaide (South Australian) Register on 14 October 1895—thirty years after SP was published—he said that his protagonist “was a real character, and his name was Greeley. The way he got the name of Smiley was this—I wrote the story for the New York Saturday Gazette, a perishing weekly so-called literary newspaper. . . . They had not enough ‘G's,’ and so they changed Greeley's name to ‘Smiley.’ That's a fact” (Louis J. Budd, ed., A Listing of and Selection from Newspaper and Magazine Interviews with Samuel L. Clemens: 1874–1910 [Arlington, Texas: American Literary Realism, 1977], p. 63). Although this explanation smacks of printer's lore, it does imply that Mark Twain's original intention was to name the character “Greeley” and that he therefore took the opportunity afforded by the Californian to restore his first choice. On the other hand, the Cal reprinting was far from perfect, for Mark Twain demonstrably corrected some eight errors when he revised YSMT and JF1MT, and he probably corrected a ninth in preparing Sk#1, changing “sat me down” back to “sat down” (283.2); “sitting” back to “setting” (283.33); restoring “him” (284.9); “catching” back to “ketching” (285.32); “send” back to “set” (285.36); restoring “lively” (287.13); “wa'nt” to “warn't” (formerly “wasn't”) (287.15); “an” back to “a” (287.16); and “shoulders” back to “shoulder” (287.22). An additional five changes made in Cal—most of them omissions and regularizations of the dialect (“been” instead of “ben”; “went” instead of “went out”; “to see” instead of “to go and see”) are here attributed to the compositor even though Mark Twain never restored the original readings.
The author himself pasted a clipping of Cal in the Yale Scrapbook, and sometime in early 1867 he revised that clipping for reprinting in JF1: the four pages originally containing the clipping of Cal are reproduced in photofacsimile in the textual introduction (figures 13–18, volume 1, pp. 528–533). Mark Twain demonstrably corrected five of the errors introduced by Cal, and made six revisions of his text. He added a footnote to explain the circumstances of composition: “Originally written, by request, for Artemus Ward's last book, but arrived in New York after that work had gone to press.” He changed “he was on the road” to “it took him to make the trip” (284.4); “Providence” to “Prov'dence” (284.11); “for'castle” to “fo'castle” (284.31); “he” to “he” (284.36); and “came” to “come” (285.2). He also reversed his decision of the previous December, reverting to the name “Smiley” throughout the text.
At some time after this initial revision—probably after Webb had agreed to edit JF1 for Mark Twain—the first three paragraphs were peeled away from the scrapbook page, presumably remounted, and then further revised to remove all allusions to Artemus Ward. It is by no means certain that Mark Twain made these changes, especially since one correction that he demonstrably made—the deletion of “me” at 283.2—was evidently not transferred to the new copy and was not incorporated in JF1. Only the first page of the clipping was removed from the scrapbook, however, presumably because it alone required more extensive editing than the scrapbook margin permitted. The other sections remained in place, except for the last one: at some point it too was peeled away from a page that had been scissored out. The clipping was remounted, out of order, in the scrapbook—and two corrections presumably inscribed on the original scrapbook page (the restored word “lively” and the deletion of n from “an” at 287.13 and 287.16) were both lost and did not appear in JF1.
Collation demonstrates that JF1 was set from a revised clipping of Cal, and that it followed six of the eleven revisions and corrections inscribed by Mark Twain on the scrapbook clipping. Of the five changes not followed, one was the footnote about Artemus Ward (now superfluous because of the revisions imposed on the early paragraphs); another was the phrase written almost vertically in the left scrapbook margin, “it took him to make the trip” (omitted in favor of the original reading, clearly legible beneath the canceling pencil marks); and three were the corrections (“me,” “lively,” and “a” for “an”) that had been lost when clippings were removed and remounted. The loss of these last three corrections is strong evidence that the YSMT clipping was either the printer's copy, or the immediate source of the printer's copy for JF1. The close correspondence between YSMT and JF1 on six changes, and the understandable failure to follow four of the five remaining changes, makes this inference all but inescapable. It is possible that Mark Twain or Webb, instead of using the YSMT clipping, used a duplicate of Cal to which the scrapbook changes were transferred (albeit imperfectly). This supposed duplicate would account for the failure to follow the revised phrase “it took him to make the trip,” and it would also help to explain some further variants in JF1 that are suspiciously like authorial revisions: “hang” instead of “curse” (288.8), “he'd been doin'” instead of “he'd done” (286.3), as well as spelling changes that make Wheeler's dialect even more extreme Pike County (“jest” instead of “just,” “j'int” instead of “joint,” and “p'ints” instead of “points”). Since these changes conform to Mark Twain's pattern of increasing the number of nonstandard usages in Simon Wheeler's narrative, it is tempting to attribute them to the author. If he made them, however, he must have done so on a duplicate clipping, for they do not appear in YSMT, and Mark Twain was emphatic in saying that he did not read proof for JF1: “It is full of damnable errors of grammar & deadly inconsistencies of spelling in the Frog sketch because I was away & did not read the proofs” (Clemens to Bret Harte, 1 May 1867, CL1 , letter 130). Such a duplicate clipping cannot be ruled out, but if a duplicate was used, it now seems unlikely that Mark Twain added revisions to it or that he carefully scrutinized the transfer of his YSMT changes to the new clipping. The alternative is that Webb, not Mark Twain, made the additional changes, either in proof or on a duplicate clipping, and that it was precisely these further changes to which Mark Twain objected in his letter to Harte. For example, although JF1 regularly printed “an't” instead of “ain't,” Mark Twain's holograph corrections on JF1MT show that he tried to restore his original spelling throughout. Likewise, he restored the italics for “him” (283.25), changed “came” back to “come” (283.21), removed an unauthorized comma after “flush” (283.30), changed “risk” back to “resk” twice (284.12 and 286.22), changed “wan't” back to “warn't” (284.28), changed “by” back to “in” (285.4), and changed “cal'klated” and “edercate” back to “cal'lated” and “educate” (285.26). These corrections indicate that the editor or compositor of JF1 had volunteered changes in the dialect spellings which Mark Twain did not want. The fact that the author did not also restore “points” where JF1 had “p'ints,” for example, cannot exempt such changes from the suspicion that they too were volunteered by the JF1 editor or compositor. Although it is still conceivable that Mark Twain made changes on a duplicate clipping which do not appear in YSMT, these further changes cannot now be distinguished from those which were demonstrably imposed by the editor and later rejected by Mark Twain. Accordingly, JF1 variants that do not have the warrant of holograph evidence are here attributed to Webb.
The reprinting of the JF1 text is described in the textual introduction. Routledge reprinted JF1 in 1867 (JF2), and Hotten in turn reprinted JF2 in 1870 (JF3). Routledge also reprinted JF2 in 1870 (JF4a) and, using the unaltered plates of JF4a, reissued the book in 1872 (JF4b). None of these texts was revised by the author, but the compositors made several minor errors: “solit'ry” instead of “solitry” (283.28); “sitting” instead of “setting” (283.33); “follow” instead of “foller” (284.2); “upon” instead of “up on” (284.30); “any” instead of “ary” (286.24); and “prised” instead of “prized” (287.4). When Mark Twain prepared the printer's copy for MTSk in March or April 1872, he revised a copy of JF4a and made extensive changes in wording and spelling. (Three years earlier he had extensively revised the Doheny copy of the Jumping Frog book, JF1MT, and although this copy was never used for printer's copy in any known reprinting, its holograph changes were frequently duplicated in MTSk.) Mark Twain continued his revision and correction of the dialect, changing “wasn't” to “warn't” (283.20), “came” to “come” (283.21), “any” to “ary” (283.29), “sitting” to “setting” (283.33), “risk” to “resk” (284.12), “saw” to “see” (285.6), “cal'klated” to “cal'lated” and “edercate” to “educate” (285.26), “kept” to “kep'” (286.13), and “jump” to “git” (287.12). He altered several phrases to improve the dialect rendering: “get” became “get to—to” (284.1), “asked” became “up and asked him” (284.9), “shine savage like the furnaces” became “shine wicked you hear me” (284.32); “an anvil” became “a church” (287.16); “lifted him up” became “hefted him” (287.29). He again corrected “sat me down” to “sat down” (283.2), and again restored “lively” at 287.13. And, as he had done on JF1MT, Mark Twain deleted two sentences at 283.12–15 to avoid explaining his own humor: “To me, the spectacle of a man drifting serenely along through such a queer yarn without ever smiling was exquisitely absurd. As I said before, I asked him to tell me what he knew of Rev. Leonidas W. Smiley, and he replied as follows.” Similarly, Mark Twain revised the concluding sentence about as he had done on JF1MT. He replaced “ ‘Oh, hang Smiley and his afflicted cow!’ I muttered, good-naturedly, and bidding the old gentleman good-day, I departed” with the following: “Lacking both time and inclination, I did not wait to hear about the afflicted cow, but took my leave.” (Compare JF1MT: “For lack of time & inclination, I did not tarry to hear about the afflicted cow, but took my departure.”)
One year later (1873) Hotten reprinted JF3 in HWa. Despite Mark Twain's earlier revision of MTSk, when he revised HWa for Chatto and Windus in the fall of 1873 (HWaMT), he made no corrections or revisions in this sketch, which was reprinted in HWb the following year from the unaltered plates of HWa. In 1874, however, Mark Twain again reprinted the sketch in Sk#1, using a copy of MTSk (now lost) as printer's copy. He changed the title from the “Celebrated” to the “Notorious Jumping Frog of Calaveras County” and he presumably made some twenty adjustments in the dialect spelling and wording. Typically, Mark Twain restored five SP readings that had been corrupted in Cal, JF1, and JF4: “what” became “that” (283.24), “him” became “him” (283.25), “wan't” became “warn't” (284.28), “by” became “in” (285.4), and “catching” became “ketching” (285.32). Mark Twain continued to revise his dialect as well: “kept” became “kep'” ” (285.33), a change in keeping with MTSk “kep'” at 286.13; “far” became “fur” (285.34); “he would” became “he'd” (284.6); “again” became “agin” (286.1); “across” became “acrost” (286.15), a change made earlier on JF1MT; “wan't” became “warn't” (287.15); and “this way” became “so” (287.22). He corrected an error introduced by the MTSk compositor: “he had been doin'” was restored to JF1 “he'd been doin'” (286.3). Mark Twain also added “he says” to two phrases (286.27–28 and 287.23), and supplied “However” at the beginning of the concluding sentence (288.9).
Mark Twain is known to have revised his text one more time. Early in 1875 he prepared the printer's copy for SkNO, and he listed this sketch as item 3, “The Jumping Frog,” in the Doheny table of contents. But shortly before submitting his printer's copy to Elisha Bliss, Mark Twain decided not to print the sketch by itself, but to publish for the first time a piece written in 1873, “The ‘Jumping Frog.’ In English. Then in French” (no. 364). This piece did include the “Jumping Frog” sketch, however, and collation shows that this portion of the SkNO piece was set from a revised copy of Sk#1, now lost. Mark Twain made two notable changes: he rejected his revision in MTSk, “shine wicked, you hear me,” in favor of a reading similar to the original one, “shine like the furnaces” (284.32); and he added some musing comments to the beginning of the sentence at 283.17 (“There was a feller”): “Rev. Leonidas W. H'm, Reverend Le—well, there” (a change virtually identical with one he had written on JF1MT: “Reverent Leonidas W. H'm. Reverent Le——well, there.” These and a few other variants that appear in the “Jumping Frog” text of the longer piece in SkNO are reported in the historical collation given below, even though they are pertinent to no. 364 as well. All known variants between 1865 and 1875 are, therefore, reported in the historical collation of the present sketch. Since Mark Twain's revisions of JF1MT were very complex and sometimes incomplete, we have adopted the form used for Alterations in the Manuscript to report many of them.
Mark Twain also revised a copy of HWb (1878 impression in MTP) to use for oral reading. The few variants he introduced in this sketch are reported only in the textual notes.
The diagram of transmission is given below.