Private & conf.
Hartford, 20th,
My Dear Reid, you have manifestly tried to do us a good turn on the novel, but in speaking facetiously instead of seriously, I am afraid you have hurt [us. I ] wanted you to do us a genuine good turn & give us a fair & g square good send-off. I have not allowed my publisher to know the book was a novel; Warner has foreborne to mention it in his paper; I have kept ‸my‸ brother quiet (he is an editor,)—& all because we wanted the first mention to come from the Tribune, so that it might start from the most influential source in the land & start right.
And now you give us a notice which the carries the impression to the minds of other editors that we are people of small consequence in the literary world, & indeed only triflers; that a novel by us is in no sense a literary event. Half the papers in America will not see that you were meaning to say a pleasant word for us & simply chose an unfortunate way of doing it: they will merely see that you give us a stickful of pleasantry down in a corner—& every man of in them will take his cue from you, (as they all do) & will act accordingly.1 You paid my life-raft article a grave, dignified compliment, full of Tribune character, & straightway all the papers see that my suggestion was sensible—& you know they never would have so regarded it if you had kept silence or had chaffed the article.2
Now I hold that a◇ novel from us is a literary event, (though it may sound pretty egotistical) & it deserved from you two stickfuls of brevier, gravely worded, & an honorable place in your chief editorial columns. I am not a man of trifling literary consequence. The voluntary & unsought subscriptions to my next book already run up into thousands—though no man knows what the book is to be, or what subject it will treat of. These people simply say, “I don’t care—put my name down.” Now you know that that is unusual. “Roughing It” had 43,000 subscribers already booked, the day it issued from the press. The “Innocents Abroad” (now 3½ years old) sold 12,000 copies this last year—sells 2 [ 2,000 1000 ]a month right along—which looks as if it had entered permanently into the [ let literature ]of the country.3 These things all mean this: that I have a good reliable audience in this country—& it is the biggest one in America, too, if I do say it myself. So a novel from me alone would be a literary event, & ‸be a good deal in the nature of a literary event, &‸ the Tribune, to be just, should have made it so I appear, I think.
In confidence I wish to say that young Bennett has been trying for several months to get me to write for the Herald, & some time ago sent a man up here to argue the case with me. Sent a telegram from Europe the other day asking when he will see me there. The day [after ] I told his man ‸messenger‸ no, & said I was writing a book & couldn’t break into it with newspaper work, you dropped a line asking for Sandwich Island letters & I put down this novel in the midst of a chapter & put in two whole days in on the S. I. letters. The spirit of the novel got into them & they had a good public reception.4 Now confound you when I want you to do something for me, you shove my novel at the world as if neither it nor its father amounted to much! This isn’t fair—I swear it is not fair.
Now this Christian Union notice5 of an absolutely worthless book, will make many & many a newspaper man say l Laudatory things of the bantling. Such a notice from you of our novel would have been truthful & would have launched us into absolutely certain success. If our novel isn’t worth ten such messes of ill-digested stuff as this [Metropolisville ] thing, I will agree to eat it, without condiments. Our novel will have some point to it & will mean something, & I think it will not be snubbed & thrown aside, but will make some men talk, & may even make some people think. But of course my saying so does not make it so. All I claim is that it is the literary event of the season—& that I stick to. Your notice of it is not ten hours old, in Hartford, & yet it is talked of here more now than [ an other another ]man’s book would be in a week—& not because I live here for I [ an am ]not known here.
I think you fellows meant well by us—indeed you could have no reason to mean otherwise—but you could have given us a splendid send-off & not stepped outside the proprieties of the occasion in any way. I am sorry to make you read so long a letter, but Lord knows that what your paper says about a book of mine is a serious thing to me. I fancy that what able people [ sa ] might say about your Essay upon journalism was a matter of solicitude with you.6 So, under the circumstances you must overlook the length of this screed.
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Yr friend
Samℓ. L. Clemens.
Now just see if you can’t do us a real outspoken good turn that will leave a strong wholesome impression on the public mind—& then command our services, if they can be of use to you. Title of novel is, “The Gilded Age.”
[enclosure:] 8
Explanatory Notes | Textual Commentary
Source text(s):
Previous publication:
L5, 346–350.
Provenance:The Whitelaw Reid Papers (part of the Papers of the Reid Family) were donated to DLC between 1953 and 1957 by Helen Rogers Reid (Mrs. Ogden Mills Reid).
Emendations and textual notes:
us. I • us.—|I
2,000 1000 • 2, 1000
let literature • le it-|erature
after • [possibly ‘after ‸’]
Metropolisville • Metropotlisville
an other another • [ligature added to connect the two words]
an am • an m
sa • [‘a’ partly formed]