To
Olivia L. Langdon
30, 31 October, and 1 November 1869 • Pittsburgh, Pa.
(MS: CU-MARK, UCCL 00365)
11. P.M.
Diary1
Pittsburgh Oct. 30
Livy Darling—
We I have just this moment returned & gone to bed.
We had a pleasant time of it. They came for me at 7.30, & we went to a private room in a restaurant & had an oyster supper in a quiet, comfortable, sensible way—no wine, no toasts, no speeches—nothing but conversation. (Though it was appalling to have 30 newspaper men lay down their napkins with the last course & gather their chairs together in front of me, a silence following—for that silence naturally had the effect of suggesting that I was expected to do the talking—a thing which was not meant at all. Still, it was a little startling.)2
During the evening, a dry, sensible genius, a Mr. Smythe, told his experiences as a lecturer. He said:
“A year ago, I was ass enough to go to Europe. When I came back I was ass enough to think I was stocked with knowledge about Europe that the public would like to hear. I expected they would be calling on me for a lecture, & so hurried to get ready. I wrote my lecture in the third story of a printing office in the intervals between calls for “copy,” & I judged it was a pretty creditable effort. I said to myself, I can do this sort of thing just as well as Mark Twain did—& if I had his house to hear me, I could show them. Then I waited for the flood—the freshet of calls from the lyceums. It was a good opportunity to wait—a singularly good one—it never has ceased to be. , to I am still waiting. I did not get any calls. I could not understand it. But I knew the people were suffering for the lecture, & so I quit bothering about calls, & went & took the Academy on my own [hook. At ]the appointed time I was on hand, & so were eleven other people. At half past 8, observing that the rush had [ceased ]& that the audience were unquestionably assembled, I stepped on to the stage with my MSS, & for an hour & a half I instructed those 11 people. I was “out” $75 on the experiment. A friend met me a day or two afterward & said he had heard I had been out lecturing. I said Yes, I was out [yet, ].
I waited again for calls. They did not come. I then cast my eye upon East Liberty, a suburb of Pittsburgh. I knew they were aching to have me there but dare n’t invite me. And so I went there on my own hook. I paid $35 for the use of the theatre. At half past 7 I took a retired stand opposite & watched. At 8 or a little after, the first great wave of relief se swept over my soul—I saw a man enter the hall. I went into a saloon & drank to him. Bye & bye I saw two men go in at once. I took a drink to them. After a little a carriage drove up & the estimable Mrs. Swisshelm, of whom you may have heard, went in.3 I drank to her. At 8.30, nobody else having come, I drank to the absent.
Then I went over & read my MSS. drearily, & was absolutely happy, even cheerful, once—when I got [through.]
Then I rested for a while & at length determined to go up to Steubenville, O., & give those people a taste of my quality. When I got there I looked wistfully about the street corners for my posters, but I did not see any. I [hunted ]up the bill poster, & he explained he that it had been rainy, & he had refrained from posting the bills because they would not stick. I went to the village [newspaper man ]who had been advertising me, & he encouraged me to believe there would be a slim attendance. He was a man of very good judgment. At 8.30 nobody had come, & for the sake of economy I discharged the doorkeeper, & went off with the journalist to take a drink. I could not get rid of him, somehow—on account of one of us being in the other’s dist debt, pe I thought. At 9 we went back & found one man in the house. I felt a little cheered, for this was nearly as large an audience as I had ever had. I began my lecture, but when I was half through a thought occurred to me & I asked that man who he was. He said he was the janitor. “Then I suppose you do not pay?”
“No.”
So I closed the lecture at that point.
Subsequently I received my first invitation. This began to look like business. It was to go to Greensburg & lecture for the benefit of the Methodist Mite Society—$25 & expenses.4 I went with a light heart. Some newspaper friends volunteered to go with me—& they are a class of people who are given to drink. They were companionable, but expensive.
We arrived in a rain storm—& very dark. The Rev. Mr. Noble received me in considerable state & walked me to the Court House. At 8.30 an audience of nearly 13 persons had assembled—it seemed a sort of ovation—I was not accustomed to these multitudinous manifestations of popular favor. The Rev. Noble introduced me in a right pretty speech, & then I delivered my lecture. It was complimented a good deal, & the Rev. Noble was so kind as to say they might want me again in case the Society survived this ordeal. The Secretary then came forward & said there had not been as large an attendance as he had hoped for & so the finances were correspondingly s meagre, but if five dollars would be any object to me, the a draft for that amount——
I begged him to let the whole sum go into the coffers of the Mite Society, & I hope[d] that in its sudden acquisition of wealth it would not grow proud, but would sometimes think of its benefactor.
Since then I have thought seriously of forsaking the lecture field, & will remark that my lecture, unmutilated, & with all the places for applause legibly marked in it, is for sale.”5
Pittsburgh, Oct. 31.
I walked all around town this morning with a young Mr. Dean, a cousin of Wm D. Howells, editor of the Atlantic Monthly. He kindly offered to give me a letter of introduction to Mr. Howells, but I thanked him sincerely & declined, saying I had a sort of delicacy about using letters of introduction, not simply because the[y] place the other party in the position of being obliged to take the stranger by the hand whether or no & show him civilities which he may not feel like showing him, or at least may not feel like it at that particular time. He may have engagements—business—the headache—twenty circumstances may conspire to make the entertainment of a guest a hardship. I prefer to be casually introduced, or to call ceremoniously with a friend—then the afflicted party is perfectly free to treat me precisely as he chooses, & no harm done.6
Many gentlemen have called on me [to-day. ]Mr. E. B. Coolidge, formerly of the Navy—met him once when I was visiting Admiral Thatcher in San Francisco, on on board his [flagship], at San Francisco. W. A. Taylor, of the Post; Asa L. Waugaman ([ ke knew ]him in Nevada); A H Lane, Jno. G. Holmes, Wm. L. Chalfant, Wm. C. Smythe of the Dispatch; W. W. [Thompson; ]Wm. N. Howard; Geo. W. Dean; O. T. Bennett of the Commercial; & ten or more a number of gentlemen whose came with one or another of the above & sent no cards.7 So they have dropped in one after another all day long & have made the time busy & pleasant. I am to go to church [to-night ]with Mr. Chalfant.
Waugaman made me go to his house to see his wife,. 1 st I knew her in Nevada, too. I staid 15 minutes, & would have remained to supper, for the table looked tempting, but their young boy of 7 is one of your petted smarties whose entire mind is given to climbing around & getting where he can intercept your vision & attract your attention—industriously watching your eye & changing position so as to intercept it again if you change the direction of your glance—a child with a feverish desire to do something surprising & win the notice of the stranger—a creature that parades its toys & asks its mother questions concerning them which it is plain are merely asked to compel the stranger’s attention to them & gouge a remark out of him—a soiled & stubb nasty imp that sings nursery stuff in the a loud & still louder & louder key as the conversation rises to meet the emergency, & does it all to win coveted admiration—a small wit ‸whelp‸ that says those ineffably stupid flat things which mothers treasure up & repeat, & regard as “smart” things, purring & smiling blandly the while—a little pug-nosed, mop-headed, sore-toed, candy-smeared beast that paws after things at table, [& spills ]its coffee, & eats mashed potatoes with its fingers, & points & clamors for “some of that”—a sinful, tiresome, homely, [ ha hateful], execrable NUISANCE at all times & in all places [whatsoever!]
I may be a brute. Doubtless I am. But such is my opinion of this breed of children, nevertheless. The “four-year-old” department of Harper’s Monthly is written in vain for me.8
Well, Livy dear, I was afraid that brat would be at supper—mothers who rear such prodigies always like to have them on exhibition—& so I first started to ask, & then, recognizing that that would not be strictly polite, I simply declined [supp ]& returned to the hotel.
One of the newspaper gentlemen who called today was Mr. Bennett of the Commercial, a good fellow, modest & pleasant. He wants to make a synopsis of my lecture [to-morrow ]night, or report it in full. I told him a synopsis of a humorous lecture holds up all the jokes, in a crippled condition for the world to remember & so remembering them hate them if ever they hear that lecturer repeat them in solemn & excruciating succession one after the other.
And I said to take the points out of a humorous lecture was the same as taking the raisins out of a fruit cake—it left it but a pretense of a something it was not, for such as came after.
And further, the charm of a humorous remark or still more, an elaborate succession of humorous remarks, cannot be put upon paper—& whosoever reports a humorous lecture verbatim, & necessarily leaves the soul out of it, & no more presents that lecture to the [reader ]than [ does a man bring a woman’s husband to her a person presents ]a man to you when he ships you a corpse.
I said synopses injure—they do harm, because they d travel ahead of the lecturer & give people a despicable opinion of him & his [production].
I said my lecture was my property, & no man had a right to take it from me & print it, any more than he would have a right to take away any other property of mine. I said “I showed you what time it was by my watch a while ago, & it never occurred to me that you might pull the hands off it so that it would be only a stupid blank to the next man that wanted the time—but yet I see you meditate pulling the hands off my lecture with your synopsis & making it a blank to future audiences. You see me sitting here perfectly serene although I know you could walk off with my valise while I am talking with these other gentlemen—but won’t steal my valise because it is property—my property. Now do take the valise & let the lecture alone. I [own ]both of them—I alone. [ P ]Take the valise—it is only worth a hundred dollars—the lecture is worth ten thousand.”
This was all perfectly friendly & [good-natured], of course. I was trying to show [ how him ]how in the wrong he was—I had no desire to offend him, & I didn’t.
But Livy if his chief orders him to report the lecture he can’t help himself9—for although the law protects rigidly the property a [shoemaker ]contrives with his hands, it will not protect the property I create with my brain.10
I went to church & heard a man from a distance preach, a sermon without notes—which was well—but in a frozen, monotonous, precise & inflectionless way that showed that his [discoursed ]was a carefully memorized production. There was something exceedingly funny about this bald pretense of delivering an off-hand speech—& something exceedingly funny, too in a full-grown man “speaking a piece” after the manner of a little [schoolboy]. His gestures were timid—never could finish one—always got scared & left it half made. He evidently had the places marked, & knew how he wanted to make them, but he didn’t [dare].
Oh, the music was royal! It was superb! It was the very ecstasy of harmony! With the first grand explosion of rich sounds, I started from my reverie & thought, Heavens! What a choir we’ve got here! And I looked up, & there were only 4 singers! But how their voices did match, —& blend—& wind in & out, ‸& blend together—‸ & how they did peal out at times—& then languish & die—& then swell upward ‸again‸ & reel away drun through the charmed atmosphere in a drunken ecstasy of melody!
My! what a soprano singer! When I thought the very hair would stand up straight with delight, & looked again & wondered if that grand flood of mellow sound did issue from so small a constitution—& how it could come with such utter absence of effort.
And when they sang “O”er the Dark Waves of Galilee” I didn’t feel as if I could sit still. What worship was in the music! [ And h ]How it preached, how it pleaded! And how earthy & merely human seemed the clergyman’s poor vapid declamation! He couldn’t make us comprehend Christ desolate & forsaken, but the music did.11
Oh, wouldn’t Hattie Lewis have stood on her head if she had been there! Livy I never heard anything like it in all my life.
And do you know there are some people whose complacency nothing can subdue. In the midst of the beautiful music a skinny old cat sitting next me tuned her pipe & began to [yowl. Well ]I came as near as anything to banging her over the head with a pew. Now was there ever such effrontery as that woman’s.
The second tune was a little too complicated for her & I had a rest. On the third, I waited in pure torture all through the first verse, & felt re happy, satisfied, safe—but on the second the venerable [screech-owl ]came to the rescue again & filed her saw all through the hymn.
The young man who went with me got tired of the sermon early. He evidently was not used to going to church, though [he talked ]as if he was. Toward the last he got [ his himself ]down till he was resting on the end of his backbone; & then he propped his 2 [knees ]hight against the pew in front of him; he stroked his thighs reflectively with his palms; he yawned; he started twice to stretch, ‸but‸ cut it short & looked dejected & regretful; in he looked at his watch 3 times; & at last he got to belching.* I then threw him out of the window. {1 PM.12 Good night & God bless & preserve you, my own darling.}
Sam.
*’Tisn’t elegant, but there isn’t any other, Livy
[in ink:] Miss Olivia L.
Langdon | Elmira | N.Y. [postmarked:] [pittsburgh]pa. [nov ]i [and][ philada. p.o]. received nov 210 am
[docketed by OLL:] [128] 128th
Explanatory Notes | Textual Commentary
Mr. Howard, Chairman of the Lecture Committee, introduced Mr.
Clemens, who said he could not recommend the lecture he was going to
deliver, because he was not familiar with it himself. He had
delivered it before the pupils of a deaf and dumb asylum and they
said it was as good a lecture as they ever heard; he had also
delivered it before the inmates of an insane asylum, and they were
enthusiastic; he had also experimented a little with it on a sick
man and it was very successful—poor fellow he was gone
now. Nothing could reconcile him to his approaching doom; but when
the third portion of the lecture was being delivered he went off as
smoothly and serenely as a bombshell. The subject of the lecture was
then discussed at considerable length, the speaker alluding to the
geographical position of the islands, and describing the habits of
the people, the climate, and the volcanoes. The lecture was
intersper[s]ed with humorous passages that kept the
audience in the best humor, and they appeared highly entertained,
and also had an opportunity of acquiring a great deal of valuable
information. (“The Lecture Season,” Pittsburgh
Commercial, 2 Nov 69, 4) The Pittsburgh Gazette, seconding reports by
Bennett and the Pittsburgh Post, noted that
Clemens attracted to the Academy of Music “the very largest
audience we have ever seen assembled to greet a lecturer.”
When all twenty-five hundred seats were occupied, additional chairs were
placed on stage for the lecture committee and the local press, while
another five hundred spectators had to stand during the performance. The
Gazette deemed it “an able and
brilliant effort in keeping with the high reputation of its author.
There were just enough funprovoking passages introduced to lighten up
the burdensome task of properly describing a region about which most
people think little and care much less.” And the Pittsburgh
Evening Chronicle commented:
“Perhaps the lecture was not so thoroughly delightful as that
on the ‘American Vandal,’ but it was very
delightful, notwithstanding. ... Rarely has the closest student of
geography or ethnology obtained so much information so delightfully
about the Hawai[i]ans and their homes as last night. The
lecture had one grave fault—it was not long
enough” (“Mark Twain Last Night,”
Pittsburgh Gazette, 2 Nov 69, 4;
“Academy of Music—Mark Twain’s
Lecture,” Pittsburgh Post, 2 Nov 69,
1; “The Lecture Season,” Pittsburgh Evening Chronicle, 2 Nov 69, 3). The
$120 that Clemens received in Pittsburgh was, as far as can
be determined from the partial records that survive, the highest fee of
his 1869–70 tour. Usually he received either $75
or $100 (Erasmus Wilson, 886; George L. Fall to SLC, 27 Oct
69, 7 Dec 69, James Redpath Letterpress Book, 26, 632, IaU).
O’er the dark wave of Galilee The gloom of twilight gathers fast, And on the waters drearily Descends the fitful evening blast. The weary bird hath left the air, And sunk into his sheltered nest; The wandering beast has sought his lair, And laid him down to welcome rest. Still near the lake, with weary tread, Lingers a form of human kind; And on His lone, unsheltered head, Flows the chill night-damp of the wind. Why seeks He not a home of rest? Why seeks He not a pillowed bed? Beasts have their dens, the bird its nest; He hath not where to lay His head. Such was the lot He freely chose, To bless, to save the human race; And through His poverty there flows A rich, full stream of heavenly grace. (Henry Ward Beecher 1864,
72)
Source text(s):Previous publication:
L3, 375–385; Wecter 1947, 69–71, with omissions; LLMT, 112–18.
Provenance:see Samossoud Collection, p. 586.
Emendations and textual notes:
hook. At • hook.—|At
ceased • ce | ceased [corrected miswriting]
yet, • [deletion implied]
through. [¶] Then • through.—| [¶] Then
hunted • [‘un’ conflated]
newspaper man • newspaper | man [doubtful ‘newspaper-|man’]
to-day • to-|day
flagship • flag-|ship
ke knew • kenew
Thompson • [Clemens completed ‘Thompson’ before canceling ‘p’]
to-night • to-|night
& spills • & | & spills
ha hateful • ha | hateful [possibly rewritten for lack of room]
whatsoever • whatsoveever
supp • [sic]
to-morrow • to-|morrow
reader • reader | reader [corrected miswriting]
does ... presents • [‘does a’ canceled when ‘a person presents’ revised]
production • produc-‸tion.‸ tion.
own • own ow
P • [partly formed]
good-natured • good-|natured
how him • howim
shoemaker • shoe-|maker
discoursed • [sic]
schoolboy • school-boy
dare. [line space] [¶] Oh • dare.—| [line space] | [¶] Oh
And h • [possibly ‘And th’; ‘t’ partly formed]
yowl. Well • yowl.—|Well
screech-owl • screech-|owl
he talked • he he talked [corrected miswriting]
his himself • hismself
knees • knees | knees [corrected miswriting]
pittsburgh • pitt[sbu♦]gh [badly inked]
nov • [nov] [badly inked]
philada. p.o. • phil [ada. p].o. [padly inked]
128 • [doubtful ‘1328’; heavily canceled]
