Dictated in Florence, Italy, April, 1904.Ⓐapparatus note
I will begin with a note upon the dedication. I wrote the book in the months of March and April , in San Francisco. It was published in August 1869. Three years afterward Mr. Goodman,Ⓐapparatus note of Virginia City, Nevada, on whose newspaper I had served ten years before,Ⓐapparatus note came East, and we were walking down BroadwayⒺexplanatory note one day when he said—
“HowⒶapparatus note did you come to steal Oliver Wendell Holmes’s dedication and put it in your book?”
I made a careless and inconsequential answer, for I supposed he was joking. But he assured me that he was in earnest. He said—
“I’mⒶapparatus note not discussing the question of whether you stole it or didn’t—for that is a question that can be settled in the first bookstore we come to—I am only asking you how you came to steal it, for that is where my curiosity is focalized.”
I couldn’t accommodate him with this information, as I hadn’t it in stock. I could have made oath that I had not stolen anything, therefore my vanity was not hurt nor my spirit troubled. At bottom I supposed that he had mistaken another book for mine, and was now getting himself into an untenable place and preparing sorrow for himself and triumph for me. We entered a bookstore and he asked for “The Innocents Abroad” and for the dainty little blue and gold edition of Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes’s poems. He opened the books, exposed their dedicationsⒺexplanatory note and said—
“ReadⒶapparatus note them. It is plain that the author of the second one stole the first one, isn’t it?”
I was very much ashamed, and unspeakably astonished. We continued our walk,Ⓐapparatus note but I was not able to throw any gleam of light upon that original question of his. I could not remember ever having seen Dr. Holmes’s dedication. I knew the poems, but the dedication was new to me.
I did not get hold of the key to that secret until months afterward, then it came in a curious way, and yet it was a natural way; for the natural way provided by nature and the construction of the human mind for the discovery of a forgotten event is to employ another forgotten event for its resurrection.
I received a letter from the Rev. Dr. Rising, who had been rectorⒶapparatus note of the Episcopal church in Virginia City in my time, in which letter Dr. Rising made reference to certain things which had happened to us in the Sandwich Islands six years beforeⒺexplanatory note; among otherⒶapparatus note things he made casual mention of the Honolulu Hotel’s poverty in the matter of literature. At first I did not see the bearing of the remark, it called nothing to my mind. But presently it did—with a flash! There was but one book in Mr. Kirchhof’s hotel, and that was the first volume of Dr. Holmes’s blue and gold series. I had had a fortnight’s chance to get well acquainted with its contents, for I had ridden around the big island (Hawaii) on horseback and had brought back so many saddle boils that if there had been a duty on them it would have bankrupted me to pay it. They kept me in my room, unclothed, and in persistent pain for two weeks, with no company but cigars and the little volume of poems. Of course I read them almost constantly; I read them from beginning to end, then read them backwards, then began in the middle and read them [begin page 226] both ways, then read them wrong end first and upside down. In a word, I read the book to rags, and was infinitely grateful to the hand that wrote it.
Here we have an exhibition of what repetition can do, when persisted in daily and hourly over a considerable stretch of time, where one is merely reading for entertainment, without thought or intention of preserving in the memory that which is read. It is a process which in the course of years driesⒶapparatus note all the juice out of a familiar verse of Scripture, leaving nothing but a saplessⒶapparatus note husk behind. In that case you at least know the origin of the husk, but in the case in point I apparently preserved the husk but presently forgot whence it came. It lay lost in some dim corner of my memory a year or two, then came forward when I needed a dedication, and was promptly mistaken by me as a child of my own happy fancy.
I was new, I was ignorant, the mysteries of the human mind were a sealed book to me as yet, and I stupidly looked upon myself as a tough and unforgivable criminal. I wrote to Dr. Holmes and told him the whole disgraceful affairⒺexplanatory note, implored him in impassioned language to believe that I had neverⒶapparatus note intended to commit this crime, and was unaware that I had committed it until I was confronted with the awful evidence. I have lost his answer;Ⓐapparatus note I could better have afforded to lose an uncle. Of these I had a surplus, many of them of no real value to me, but that letter was beyond price, beyond uncledom,Ⓐapparatus note and unsparable. In it Dr. Holmes laughed the kindest and healingest laugh over the whole matter, and at considerable length and in happy phrase assured me that there was no crime in unconscious plagiarism; that I committed it every day, that he committed it every day, that every man alive on the earth who writes or speaks commits it every day and not merely once or twice but every time he opens his mouth; that all our phrasings are spiritualized shadows cast multitudinously from our readings; that no happy phrase of ours is ever quite original with us, there is nothing of our own in it except some slight change born of our temperament, character, environment, teachings and associations; that this slight change differentiates it from another man’s manner of saying it, stamps it with our special style, and makes it our own for the time being; all the rest of it being old, mouldyⒶapparatus note, antique, and smelling of the breath of a thousand generations of them that have passed it over their teethⒶapparatus note before!
In the thirty-oddⒶapparatus note years which have come and goneⒶapparatus note since then, I have satisfied myself that what Dr. Holmes said was true.
I wish to make a note upon the preface of the “Innocents.” In the last paragraph of that brief preface, I speak ofⒶapparatus note the proprietors of the Daily Alta CaliforniaⒶapparatus note having “waived their rights” in certain lettersⒺexplanatory note which I wrote for that journal while absent on the Quaker CityⒶapparatus note trip. I was young then, I am white-headed now, but the insult of that word rankles yet, now that I am reading that paragraph for the first time in many years, reading itⒶapparatus note for the first time since it was writtenⒶapparatus note, perhaps. There were rights, it is true—such rights as the strong are able to acquire over the weak and the absent. Early in ’66 George Barnes invited me to resign my reportership on his paper,Ⓐapparatus note the San Francisco Morning CallⒺexplanatory note,Ⓐapparatus note and for some months thereafter I was without money or work;Ⓐapparatus note then I had a pleasant turn of fortune. The proprietors of the Sacramento Union,Ⓐapparatus note a great and influential daily journal, sent me to the Sandwich Islands to write four letters a month at twenty dollars apiece. I was there four or five months, and returned to find myself about the best known honest manⒶapparatus note on the Pacific coastⒶapparatus note. Thomas MaguireⒶapparatus note, proprietor of several theatres, said that now was the time to make my fortune—strike while the iron was hot!—Ⓐapparatus note [begin page 227] break into the lecture field! I did it. I announced a lecture on the Sandwich IslandsⒺexplanatory note, closing the advertisement with the remarkⒶapparatus note “Admission one dollar; doors open at half pastⒶapparatus note 7, the trouble begins at 8.”Ⓔexplanatory note A true prophecy. The trouble certainly did begin at 8, when I found myself in front of the only audience I had ever faced, for the fright which pervaded me from head to foot was paralysingⒶapparatus note. It lasted two minutes and was as bitter as death, the memory of it is indestructible, but it had its compensations, for it made me immune from timidity before audiences for all time to come. I lectured in all the principal Californian towns and in Nevada, then lectured once or twice more in San Francisco, then retired from the field rich—for me—and laid out a plan to sail westwardⒶapparatus note from San FranciscoⒶapparatus note and go around the worldⒺexplanatory note. The proprietors of the AltaⒶapparatus note engaged me to write an account of the trip for that paper—fifty letters of a column and a half each, which would be about two thousand words per letter, and the pay to be twenty dollars per letterⒺexplanatory note.
I went East to St. Louis to say good-bye to my mother, and then I was bitten by the prospectus of Captain Duncan of the Quaker CityⒶapparatus note ExcursionⒶapparatus note Ⓔexplanatory note, and I ended by joining it. During the trip I wrote and sent the fifty letters; six of them miscarried,Ⓐapparatus note and I wrote six new ones to complete my contractⒺexplanatory note. Then I put together a lecture on the trip and delivered it in San Francisco at great and satisfactory pecuniary profit, then I branched out into the country and was aghast at the result: I had been entirely forgotten, I never had people enough in my houses to sit as a jury of inquest on my lost reputation! I inquired into this curious condition of things and found that the thrifty owners of that prodigiously rich AltaⒶapparatus note newspaper had copyrighted all those poor little twenty-dollar letters, and had threatened with prosecution any journal which should venture to copy a paragraph from them!Ⓐapparatus note
And there I was! I had contracted to furnish a large book, concerning the excursion, to the American Publishing CompanyⒶapparatus note of Hartford, and I supposed I should need all those letters to fill it out with. I was in an uncomfortable situation—that is,Ⓐapparatus note if the proprietors of this stealthily acquired copyright should refuse to let me use the letters. That is just whatⒶapparatus note they did; Mr. Mac—something—I have forgotten the rest of his name*—Ⓐapparatus notesaid his firm were going to make a book out of the letters in order to get back the thousand dollars which they had paid for them. I said that if they had acted fairly and honorably, and had allowed the country press to use the letters or portions of them, my lecture-skirmish on the coast would have paid me ten thousand dollars, whereas the AltaⒶapparatus note had lost me that amount. Then he offered a compromise: he would publish the book and allow me 10 per centⒶapparatus note royalty on it. The compromise did not appeal to me, and I said so. I was now quite unknown outside of San Francisco, the book’sⒶapparatus note sale would be confined to that city, and my royalty would not pay me enough to board me three months; whereas my easternⒶapparatus note contract, if carried out, could be profitable to me, for I had a sort of reputation on the Atlantic seaboard acquired through the publication of six excursion-letters in the New York TribuneⒶapparatus note and one or two in the Herald.Ⓐapparatus note
In the end Mr. MacCrellishⒶapparatus note agreed to suppress his book, on certain conditions: in my preface I must thank the
AltaⒶapparatus note
for waiving its “rights” and granting me permission. I objected
*May 20, 1906. I recall it now—MacCrellishⒺexplanatory note. M. T.Ⓐapparatus note [begin page 228] to the thanks. I could not with any large degree of sincerity thank the AltaⒶapparatus note for bankrupting my lecture-raid. After considerable debate my point was conceded and the thanks left out.
Noah Brooks was editorⒶapparatus note of the AltaⒶapparatus note at the time, a man of sterling character and equipped with a right heart, also a good historian where facts were not essential. In biographical sketches of me written many years afterward (1902),Ⓐapparatus note he was quite eloquent in praises of the generosity of the AltaⒶapparatus note peopleⒺexplanatory note in giving to me without compensation a book which, as history had afterward shown, was worth a fortune. After all the fuss, I did not levy heavily upon the AltaⒶapparatus note letters. I found that they were newspaper matter, not book matter. They had been written here and there and yonder, as opportunity had given me a chance working-momentⒶapparatus note or two during our feverish flight around about Europe or in the furnace-heat of my stateroom on board the Quaker City,Ⓐapparatus note therefore they were loosely constructed, and needed to have some of the wind and water squeezed out of them. I used several of them—ten or twelve, perhaps. I wrote the rest of “The Innocents Abroad” in sixty days, and I could have added a fortnight’s labor with the pen and gotten along without the letters altogether. I was very young in those days, exceedingly young, marvelouslyⒶapparatus note young, younger than I am now, younger than I shall ever be again, by hundreds of years. I worked every night from eleven or twelve until broad day in the morning, and as I did two hundred thousand words in the sixty days,Ⓐapparatus note the average was more than three thousand words a day—nothing for Sir Walter Scott, nothing for Louis Stevenson, nothing for plenty of other people, but quite handsome for me. In 1897, when we were living in Tedworth Square, London, and I was writing the book called “Following the Equator” my average was eighteen hundred words a day; here in Florence,Ⓐapparatus note (1904), my average seems to be fourteen hundred words per sitting of four or five hours.*
I was deducing from the above that I have been slowing down steadily in these thirty-six years, but I perceive that my statistics have a defect: three thousand words in the spring of 1868 when I was working seven or eight or nine hours at a sitting has little or no advantage over the sitting of to-day, covering half the time and producing half the output. Figures often beguile me, particularly when I have the arranging of them myself; in which case the remark attributed to Disraeli would often apply with justice and force:
“There are three kinds of lies: lies, damned lies, and statistics.”Ⓔexplanatory note
*WithⒶapparatus note the pen, I mean. This Autobiography is dictated, not written.Ⓐapparatus note
Mr. Goodman, of Virginia City, Nevada, on whose newspaper I had served ten years before, . . . walking down Broadway] After Clemens joined the staff of the Virginia City Territorial Enterprise in the fall of 1862, Joseph T. Goodman was quick to recognize his talent, and the two became lifelong friends (see AD, 9 Jan 1906, note at 252.32–253.1). The meeting described here took place in late December 1869 or early January 1870, when Goodman stopped in New York City en route to Europe ( L1: 9 Sept 1862 to Clagett, 241 n. 5; 21 Oct 1862 to OC and MEC, 242 n. 2; 18 and 19 Dec 1869 to OLL, L3, 432 n. 2). In his original dictation, after the word “before,” Clemens added, “and of whom I have had much to say in the book called ‘Roughing It’—I seem to be overloading the sentence and I apologize—.” He deleted the remark when revising the typescript for publication in the North American Review (NAR 12). It is also omitted here, because he did not make the revision as a “softening” to accommodate a contemporary readership.
dainty little blue and gold edition of Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes’s poems . . . exposed their dedications] Starting in 1856, the Boston firm of Ticknor and Fields published a series of handy volumes containing the best contemporary and classic literature, distinctively bound in blue cloth with gilt spine and edges. Poems, by physician and author Oliver Wendell Holmes, was first printed in this “Blue and Gold” series in 1862. The dedication Clemens refers to was that of the section entitled “Songs in Many Keys”: “to | the most indulgent of readers, | the kindest of critics, | MY BELOVED MOTHER, | all that is least unworthy of her | in this volume | Is Dedicated | by her affectionate son” (Holmes 1862). Clemens’s dedication in The Innocents Abroad read: “To | My Most Patient Reader | and | Most Charitable Critic, | MY AGED MOTHER, | This Volume is Affectionately | Inscribed” (SLC 1869a, iii; Winship 1995, 122–23).
letter from the Rev. Dr. Rising . . . Sandwich Islands six years before] The Reverend Franklin S. Rising (1833?–68) arrived in Virginia City in April 1862 to become the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church. Suffering from poor health, he sailed for the Sandwich Islands in February 1866 to convalesce. Clemens was in the islands from March to July 1866, writing travel letters for the Sacramento Union, which he later used as the basis for chapters 63–74 of Roughing It (see “My Debut as a Literary Person,” note at 128.22–24). Rising appears in chapter 47 of Roughing It as the naive minister baffled by the slang of Scotty Briggs. Since Rising died in a steamboat accident in December 1868, Clemens must have misremembered the year of his letter, which is not known to survive (30 July, 6, 7, 10, and 24 Aug 1866 to JLC and PAM, L1, 352, 354 n. 3; 19 and 20 Dec 1868 to OLL, L2, 333, 337 n. 2; RI 1993, 669).
I wrote to Dr. Holmes and told him the whole disgraceful affair] No such letter has been found, although in 1869 Clemens sent a copy of The Innocents Abroad to Holmes, who replied with a warm letter of appreciation (30 Sept 1869 to Holmes, L3, 364–65, 365–66 n. 1).
the proprietors of the Daily Alta California having “waived their rights” in certain letters] The preface concluded: “In this volume I have used portions of letters which I wrote for the Daily Alta California, of San Francisco, the proprietors of that journal having waived their rights and given me the necessary permission” (SLC 1869a). Clemens’s dispute over his right to reuse his travel letters—which he describes in more detail below—took place in February and late April or early May 1868 (L2: 22? Feb 1868 to MEC, 198–99; 5 May 1868 to Bliss, 215–16; 27 and 28 Feb 1869 to Fairbanks, L3, 125 n. 3).
Early in ’66 George Barnes . . . San Francisco Morning Call] Clemens worked as the local reporter for the Morning Call from June to October 1864 (not 1866). His boss, George Eustace Barnes (d. 1897), was a Canadian who moved to New York City as a boy and began his career there as a printer for the Tribune. Although he recognized Clemens’s “peculiar genius,” he soon discovered that his new employee was not suited for his tedious but demanding assignment to provide news about theaters, law courts, and other items of local interest. In chapter 58 of Roughing It Clemens noted, “I neglected my duties and became about worthless, as a reporter for a brisk newspaper. And at last one of the proprietors took me aside, with a charity I still remember with considerable respect, and gave me an opportunity to resign my berth and so save myself the disgrace of a dismissal” ( RI 1993, 404; CofC, 11–25; see also AD, 13 June 1906).
Thomas Maguire, proprietor of several theatres . . . a lecture on the Sandwich Islands] Maguire (1820–96), originally from Ireland, was San Francisco’s best-known theatrical manager for several decades. He arrived in California in 1849 and in 1850 opened his first theater. In the 1860s he owned the Opera House, on Washington Street near Montgomery, as well as Maguire’s Academy of Music, a more splendid theater on Pine Street near Montgomery, where Clemens made his lecture debut on 2 October 1866. The lecture, which he later repeatedly revised, held a place in his platform repertoire for nearly a decade. For his own earlier account of the experience see chapter 78 of Roughing It ( RI 1993, 532–36, 741–43; Lloyd 1876, 153–54).
“Admission one dollar; doors open at half past 7, the trouble begins at 8.”] The advertisement in the San Francisco Alta California offered “Dress Circle” seats at one dollar, and “Family Circle” seats at fifty cents: “Doors open at 7 o’clock. The trouble to begin at 8 o’clock” (“Maguire’s Academy of Music,” 2 Oct 1866, 4). The phrase soon became proverbial. Less than a year later Clemens found it scrawled on the cell wall of a New York City jail (SLC 1867i).
I lectured in all the principal Californian towns and in Nevada . . . retired from the field rich . . . go around the world] Clemens toured the towns of northern California and western Nevada Territory, accompanied by his friend and agent Denis E. McCarthy, from 11 October to 10 November 1866. He lectured again in San Francisco on 16 November, and then in several other Bay Area towns, before making a final appearance in San Francisco on 10 December. According to Paine, Clemens earned about four hundred dollars from his first San Francisco lecture, after paying his expenses, but his profit from the ensuing tour is not known. His intention to visit the Orient and then circumnavigate the world grew out of an invitation from Anson Burlingame, the U.S. minister to China, who befriended him in the Sandwich Islands in June 1866 and urged him to visit Peking in early 1867 (see chapter 79 of Roughing It; RI 1993, 537–42, 743–45; MTB, 1:294; 27 June 1866 to JLC and PAM, L1, 347–48; see also AD, 20 Feb 1906).
proprietors of the Alta . . . twenty dollars per letter] For an analysis of how much Clemens was paid see 15 Apr 1867 to JLC and family, L2, 23–24 n. 1.
prospectus of Captain Duncan of the Quaker City Excursion] Charles C. Duncan (1821–98) of Bath, Maine, went to sea as a boy and took command of a ship while still a young man. In 1853 he became a New York shipping and commission merchant, but his business went bankrupt in 1865. Hoping to recover from this loss, in 1867 he arranged an excursion to Europe and the Holy Land sponsored by the parishioners of Henry Ward Beecher’s Plymouth Church in Brooklyn. Duncan leased the Quaker City and had the ship completely refitted to provide the passengers with comfortable accommodations. The prospectus described the planned itinerary for the voyage (which was to last from early June to late October), the available shipboard amenities, the guidelines for side trips ashore, the cost of passage ($1,250 in currency), and estimated personal expenses ($5 per day in gold). All passengers were required to obtain the approval of a “committee on applications” (for details of the excursion see L2: 15 Apr 1867 to JLC and family, 23–26 nn. 1–4; “Prospectus of the Quaker City Excursion,” 382–84).
I wrote and sent the fifty letters . . . complete my contract] For Clemens’s list of the letters he thought he had written, and the number actually published, see 1–2 Sept 1867 to JLC and family, L2, 89–90 n. 1.
footnote MacCrellish] Frederick MacCrellish (1828–82) went to California from Pennsylvania in 1852 and worked on two San Francisco newspapers, the Herald and the Ledger. In 1854 he became the commercial editor of the Alta California, and a part owner two years later (2? Mar 1867 to the Proprietors of the San Francisco Alta California, L2, 17 n. 1).
Noah Brooks . . . praises of the generosity of the Alta people] Brooks (1830–1903) began his journalism career in Boston, and during the Civil War corresponded from Washington for the Sacramento Union. Clemens met Brooks in 1865 or 1866, when he was the managing editor of the Alta California. After returning East in 1871, Brooks worked for both the New York Tribune and the Times, and throughout his life wrote books on travel and history, as well as personal memoirs (7 Mar 1873 to Reid, L5, 313 n. 2). He is known to have written only one biographical sketch of Clemens: “Mark Twain in California,” published in the Century Magazine in 1898. His account of the dispute, however, defends Clemens, not the “Alta people”:
During the summer of that year, while Clemens was in the Eastern States, there came to us a statement, through the medium of the Associated Press, that he was preparing for publication his letters which had been printed in the “Alta California.” The proprietors of that newspaper were wroth. They regarded the letters as their private property. Had they not bought and paid for them? Could they have been written if they had not furnished the money to pay the expenses of the writer? And although up to that moment there had been no thought of making in San Francisco a book of Mark Twain’s letters from abroad, the proprietors of the “Alta California” began at once their preparations to get out a cheap paper-covered edition of those contributions. An advance notice in the press despatches sent from California was regarded as a sort of answer to the alleged challenge of Mark Twain and his publishers. This sent the perplexed author hurrying back to San Francisco in quest of an ascertainment of his real rights in his own letters. Amicable counsels prevailed. The cheap San Francisco edition of the book was abandoned, and Mark Twain was allowed to take possession of his undoubted copyright, and his book of letters, entitled “The Innocents Abroad,” was published in the latter part of that year—1868. (Brooks 1898, 99)
remark attributed to Disraeli . . . statistics.”] This remark was first attributed to British statesman and author Benjamin Disraeli (1804–81) in the London Times on 27 July 1895. Although the quip appeared in print as early as 1892, it has not been traced with certainty to Disraeli. For a full discussion, see Shapiro 2006, 208.
Source documents.
TS Jean (lost) Typescript made in 1904 by Jean Clemens in Florence from Isabel Lyon’s handwritten record of Clemens’s dictation; now lost.TS2 Typescript, leaves numbered 68–80, made from TS Jean and revised.
TS4 Typescript, leaves numbered 65–77, made from TS Jean.
NAR 20pf (lost) Galley proofs of NAR 20, typeset from the revised TS2; now lost.
NAR 20 North American Review 185 (5 July 1907), 465–71.
TS2 and TS4 derive from an earlier typescript, now lost, prepared in 1904 in Florence by Jean Clemens, who transcribed the longhand notes taken by Isabel Lyon from Clemens’s dictation. Since either typescript may incorporate authorial readings not present in the other, all of their variants have been reported. When TS2 and TS4 agree, they confirm the readings of the missing typescript. Clemens revised TS2 to create printer’s copy for NAR 20. Collation reveals no evidence of authorial revision on the lost NAR 20pf.
On the last page of TS2 (page 80) is a list of topics, which Clemens canceled (the corresponding page in TS4, page 79, is missing): ‘In completing A. A. speak of these: Harte | Webb | Prentice Mulford | Noah Brooks | Evans | Riley | Greeley the Inexhaustible | Johns ditto | Soule | Hastings | (Sewell) | Mrs. Clemens reads proofs (?)’. None of these people—all of them, except Greeley, acquaintances from Clemens’s years in California and Washington, D.C., in 1861–68—is discussed in other material dating from 1904, nor is there any mention of his wife’s reading the proofs of The Innocents Abroad, which he did allude to, however, in the AD of 14 February 1906. Clemens mentions Bret Harte, Prentice Mulford, Charles Henry Webb, and Hastings in the AD of 13 June 1906 (for Harte and Mulford see “Ralph Keeler,” note at 150.2–4; for Webb see L1, 314 n. 5, and L2, 6–7; Hastings has not been identified). Riley is mentioned in the AD of 15 January 1906 (see the Explanatory Note at 282.15–18), and the story of Greeley and Hank Monk is told in the AD of 31 August 1906 (see also “Horace Greeley”). Clemens discusses Noah Brooks in the present piece (see the Explanatory Note at 228.3–6). There are no comments in the autobiography about Albert S. Evans, Frank Soulé, G. T. Sewall, or Tremenhere Johns. For Albert S. Evans see ET&S2, 329; for Frank Soulé see 5 Nov 73 to Bliss, L5, 465 n. 13; for G. T. Sewall see 8 and 9 Mar 1862 to Clagett, L1, 172 n. 6. Tremenhere Johns (1839–75) was a San Francisco journalist, drama critic, and playwright (The Bohemian 1 [16 Jan 75]: 8).
Marginal Notes on TS2 Concerning Publication in the NAR