Bartlett's Book of Anecdotes

by Clifton Fadiman

  TROLLOPE, Frances (1780–1863), British novelist, traveler, and mother of Anthony Trollope.

  1 (The novelist Sabine Baring-Gould remembers meeting Mrs. Trollope at Pau one winter when she was a child and Mrs. Trollope an old lady.)

  “The English residents were not a little shy of her, fearing lest she should take stock of them and use them up in one of her novels; for she had the character of delineating members of her acquaintance, and that not to their advantage. Someone asked her whether this was not her practice. ‘Of course,’ answered Mrs. Trollope, ‘I draw from life — but I always pulp my acquaintances before serving them up. You would never recognize a pig in a sausage.’ ”

  TROTSKY, Leon [Lev Davidovich Bronstein] (1879–1940), Russian revolutionary.

  1 A Russian émigré in Vienna during World War I, Trotsky spent much of his time playing chess in the Café Central and was regarded by those who knew him as a harmless, almost pathetic figure. In March 1917, the Austrian foreign minister was informed by an excited official that revolution had broken out in Russia. “Russia is not a land where revolutions break out,” said the minister skeptically, dismissing the credulous young man. “Besides, who on earth would make a revolution in Russia? Perhaps Herr Trotsky from the Café Central?”

  TROY, Hugh (1906–64), US artist and practical joker.

  1 In 1935 the Museum of Modern Art sponsored the first American exhibition of van Gogh’s art. Troy suspected that many of the vast crowds of people who thronged to the show were more attracted by the sensational details of van Gogh’s life than sincerely interested in his art. He made a replica of an ear out of chipped beef and had it mounted in a little blue velvet display case. Under it was a card reading: “This was the ear that Vincent van Gogh cut off and sent to his mistress, a French prostitute, 24 December 1888.” The ear was placed on a table in the gallery and was immediately a prime draw for the crowd.

  TRUMAN, Harry S. (1884–1972), US politician; 33d President of the United States (1945– 53).

  1 When Harry Truman first took his seat in the Senate, majority whip “Ham” Lewis sat down beside him and gave him his first look at the workings of the august body. “For the first six months you’ll wonder how the hell you got here, and after that you’ll wonder how the hell the rest of us got here.”

  2 Every presidential couple who lived in the White House had their own china pattern. It was tradition. And the choosing of the right china was often a lengthy affair. Not so for Truman, who walked his decorator into the dining room and said, “Just match the wallpaper!”

  3 Truman had accepted the vice presidency with extreme reluctance. On April 12, 1945, he was summoned to the White House. There he was shown into Eleanor Roosevelt’s sitting room and she told him gently that President Roosevelt was dead. After a moment’s stunned silence, Truman asked her, “Is there anything I can do for you?” She shook her head. “Is there anything we can do for you?” she said. “For you’re the one in trouble now.”

  4 In December 1950 President Truman’s daughter, Margaret, gave a public singing recital in Washington, which was unenthusiastically received by Paul Hume, the Washington Post’s music critic. He characterized her voice as having “little size and fair quality,” said she sang flat much of the time, and complained that there were “few moments… when one can relax and feel confident that she will make her goal, which is the end of the song.”

  Truman penned the following letter: “I have just read your lousy review buried in the back pages. You sound like a frustrated old man who never made a success, an eight-ulcer man on a four-ulcer job, and all four ulcers working. I have never met you, but if I do you’ll need a new nose and plenty of beefsteak and perhaps a supporter below. West-brook Pegler, a guttersnipe, is a gentleman compared to you. You can take that as more of an insult than as a reflection on your ancestry.”

  5 After Truman had referred to a certain politician’s speech as “a bunch of horse manure,” it was suggested to Bess Truman that she persuade her husband to tone down his language. Mrs. Truman replied, “You don’t know how many years it took me to tone it down to that!”

  6 It may have been Truman who started the joke about one-handed economists. “All my economists say, ‘on the one hand … on the other.’ Give me a one-handed economist!”

  7 As President, Truman kept two signs on his desk. One quoted Mark Twain: “Always do right. This will gratify some people and astonish the rest.” The other read, “The buck stops here.”

  8 During an informal discussion with Truman, an eager young student asked, “How do I get started in politics, sir?”

  “You’ve already started,” replied the former President. “You’re spending somebody else’s money, aren’t you?”

  9 Truman liked to take walks around Washington. One evening he decided to go see a bridge that had been put up over the Potomac. Walking down some steps by the river’s edge, he came upon a man who seemed completely unsurprised to see the President of the United States in front of him. “You know, Mr. President,’ the man said, “I was just thinking about you.”

  10 It is said that Truman read more books than any President of this century. One day a friend visited him at New York’s Waldorf-Astoria Hotel after he had left the presidency. Beside Truman’s chair were two enormous stacks of new books. His friend commented that he supposed Truman read them to fall asleep at night. “No,” replied Truman, “I read myself awake.”

  11 In her book Souvenir Margaret Truman recalls the Christmas of 1955. The President found his wife at the fireplace disposing of letters he had written to her over the years. “But think of history,” he protested. “I have,” replied Bess.

  12 Of the ego of politicians, Truman liked to say that a statesman was a politician who had been dead for fifteen years.

  TRUTH, Sojourner [Isabella Van Wagener] (c. 1797–1838), US evangelist, abolitionist, feminist, and orator.

  1 Sojourner Truth was one of the first blacks to test the streetcar antidiscrimination law in Washington, D.C. Having failed to get a trolley to stop for her when she signaled, she shouted at the top of her voice, “I want to ride! I want to ride! I want to ride!” A large crowd gathered, and the streetcar was unable to continue on its way. Sojourner Truth jumped aboard and was told by the angry conductor to go forward to where the horses were or he would put her out. Truth sat down quietly and informed the conductor that she was a passenger and would not be bullied: “As a citizen of the Empire State of New York, I know the law as well as you do.” So saying, she rode the car to the end of the line and left it with the words, “Bless God! I have had a ride.”

  TURNER, Joseph Mallord William (1775–1851), British landscape painter.

  1 A naval officer complained to Turner that the ships in his view of Plymouth had no portholes. The painter retorted, “My business is to paint not what I know, but what I see.”

  2 Handed a salad at the table, Turner remarked to his neighbor, “Nice cool green, that lettuce, isn’t it? and the beetroot pretty red — not quite strong enough; and the mixture, delicate tint of yellow that. Add some mustard, and then you have one of my pictures.”

  3 Other artists loathed being hung next to Turner at exhibitions, as the brilliance of his colors had a disastrous effect on the pictures on either side. When Cologne was hung between two paintings by Sir Thomas Lawrence, the great portraitist complained so bitterly that Turner good-naturedly toned down the golden sky in his painting to an overall dullness. “What have you done to your picture?” asked a friend in horror when he saw the change. “Well, poor Lawrence was so unhappy,” explained Turner. “It’s only lampblack. It’ll all wash off after the exhibition.”

  4 Turner always regretted selling his paintings and would wear an expression of woe for days after a sale. “I’ve lost one of my children this week,” he would explain.

  5 The watercolorist Thomas Girtin was the exact contemporary of Turner, and their talents for evoking atmosphere by use of color were astonishingly similar. When
Girtin died young in 1802, Turner observed in his characteristically generous way, “If Girtin had lived, I would have starved.”

  6 One of Turner’s most famous and popular pictures was his painting of the fire that destroyed the old Houses of Parliament in 1834. It is remarkable for its evocation of an immensely complex scene caught at a moment of high drama. First exhibited at the British Institution, it was hung in a far from complete state. For three hours before the public were admitted, Turner worked busily on it. When he had finished, he just walked away, never turning his head to have a look at the completed picture. The historical painter Daniel Maclise, who witnessed this extraordinary scene, observed, “There, that’s masterly; he does not stop to look at his work; he knows it is done and he is off.”

  7 Turner found the color green difficult to use, as the greens available were unsatisfactory and costly as well. His habit was to paint palm trees yellow. One gentleman who disliked his use of yellow rebuked him, telling him that palm trees are never yellow, but always green. “Umph!” said Turner. “I can’t afford it! Can’t afford it!”

  TWAIN, Mark [Samuel Langhorne Clemens] (1835–1910), US humorist, writer, and lecturer.

  1 In order to apply for the post of reporter-at-large on the Territorial Enterprise, Samuel Clemens walked 130 miles to Virginia City in Nevada Territory. He arrived at the newspaper’s offices one hot afternoon in August, a dust-covered, weary stranger in a slouch hat, with a revolver slung on his belt, and a roll of blankets on his back. He wore a blue woolen shirt and dusty trousers tucked into his boots. Dropping into a chair, he announced, “My starboard leg seems to be unshipped. I’d like about one hundred yards of line; I think I am falling to pieces.” He added, “My name is Clemens, and I’ve come to write for the paper.”

  2 As a cub reporter, Mark Twain was told never to state as fact anything that he could not personally verify. Following this instruction to the letter, he wrote the following account of a gala social event: “A woman giving the name of Mrs. James Jones, who is reported to be one of the society leaders of the city, is said to have given what purported to be a party yesterday to a number of alleged ladies. The hostess claims to be the wife of a reputed attorney.”

  3 On board ship on an expedition to the Holy Land, Clemens made the acquaintance of Charles J. Langdon, a young man from Elmira, New York, who was a great admirer of his. At some point Langdon showed him a miniature of his sister, Olivia. Clemens could not forget her face and resolved to meet her. He later maneuvered an invitation to visit the Langdon home for a week, and in that week he fell thoroughly for Livy, as the family called her. On the last day of his visit he said to Langdon, “Charley, my week is up, and I must go home.” Langdon did not press him to stay longer, but said, “We’ll have to stand it, I guess, but you mustn’t leave before tonight.”

  “I ought to go by the first train,” said Clemens gloomily. “I am in love.”

  “In what?”

  “In love — with your sister, and I ought to get away from here.”

  Langdon was now genuinely alarmed: no one was good enough for his sister, the family’s darling. “Look here, Clemens,” he said, “there’s a train in half an hour. I’ll help you catch it. Don’t wait till tonight. Go now.”

  4 Mark Twain’s wife did her best to censor the more picturesque flights of her husband’s language. One morning he cut himself shaving and cursed long and loud. When he stopped, his wife tried to shame him by repeating to him verbatim all the profanities that he had just uttered. Twain heard her out and then remarked, “You have the words, my dear, but I’m afraid you’ll never master the tune.”

  5 A businessman notorious for his ruthlessness announced to Mark Twain, “Before I die I mean to make a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. I will climb Mount Sinai and read the Ten Commandments aloud at the top.”

  “I have a better idea,” said Twain. “You could stay home in Boston and keep them.”

  6 Arriving at a small town in the course of a lecture tour, Mark Twain went to the local barbershop for a shave, and told the barber that it was his first visit to the town.

  “You’ve chosen a good time to come,” said the barber. “Mark Twain is going to lecture here tonight. You’ll want to go, I suppose?”

  “I guess so,” responded Twain.

  “Have you bought your ticket yet?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “Well, it’s sold out, so you’ll have to stand.”

  “Just my luck,” said Twain with a sigh. “I always have to stand when that fellow lectures.”

  7 There were always cats at Mark Twain’s farm, and favorite cats had their own names — Blatherskite, Sour Mash, Stray Kit, Sin, Satan. His children inherited his love of them. His daughter Susy once said, “The difference between Papa and Mamma is that Mamma loves morals and Papa loves cats.”

  8 As Twain and his good friend the writer William Dean Howells were leaving church one Sunday, it started to rain heavily. Howells looked up at the clouds and said, “Do you think it will stop?”

  “It always has,” replied Twain.

  9 When the printing plates were being prepared for the illustrations to Huckleberry Finn, a mischievous engraver (whose identity was never discovered despite the posting of a reward) made an addition to the picture of old Silas Phelps. He drew in a male sex organ, thus altering entirely the implications of the pictured Aunt Sally’s question, “Who do you think it is?” The alteration was discovered only after thousands of the books had been printed and bound, and the offending illustration had to be cut out by hand and replaced.

  10 After several attempts, Mark Twain at last obtained an appointment to see General Ulysses S. Grant at home. He was elated at this prospect, but when he actually confronted Grant and looked at the square, imperturbable, unsmiling face, he found himself, for the first time, unable to think of what to say. Grant, noted for his taciturnity, nodded slightly and waited. Mark Twain hesitated, and then inspiration came. “General,” he said, “I seem to be a little embarrassed, are you?” This broke the ice, and there were no further difficulties.

  Twelve years later the two men met again in Chicago, at a reception for General Grant after his world tour. Twain arrived in time for the large welcoming procession. On the way to the reviewing stand, the mayor of Chicago said, “General, let me present Mr. Clemens, a man almost as great as yourself.” The two men shook hands, and there was a pause. Then the general looked at Twain gravely. “Mr. Clemens,” he said, “I am not embarrassed, are you?” They both laughed.

  11 Mark Twain often did his writing in bed, regardless of the time of day. On one occasion his wife came in to tell him that a reporter had arrived to interview him. When Twain showed no sign of being ready to get up, she said, “Don’t you think it will be a little embarrassing for him to find you in bed?”

  “Why, if you think so, Livy,” Twain responded, “we could have the other bed made up for him.”

  12 Henry Irving was telling Mark Twain a story. “You haven’t heard this, have you?” he inquired after the preamble. Mark Twain assured him he had not. A little later Irving again paused and asked the same question. Mark Twain made the same answer. Irving then got almost to the climax of the tale before breaking off again — “Are you quite sure you haven’t heard this?” The third time was too much for his listener. “I can lie once,” said Twain, “I can lie twice for courtesy’s sake, but I draw the line there. I can’t lie the third time at any price. I not only heard the story, I invented it.”

  13 When Mark Twain was in London, a rumor of his death or imminent death reached the editor of the New York Journal, who sent its London correspondent the following cablegrams: “IF MARK TWAIN DYING IN POVERTY IN LONDON SEND 500 WORDS” and “IF MARK TWAIN HAS DIED IN POVERTY SEND 1000 WORDS.” The Journal’s man showed the cables to Mark Twain, who suggested the substance of a reply to the effect that a cousin, James Ross Clemens, had been seriously ill in London, but had recovered. The reply ended with “REPORT OF MY DEATH GREATLY EXA
GGERATED.”

  14 One night a group of Twain’s friends and admirers in New York, remembering it was the writer’s birthday, resolved to send him birthday greetings. The globe-trotting Twain was away on his travels and none of them knew his address. So they mailed a letter superscribed “Mark Twain, God Knows Where.” Some weeks later they received an acknowledgment reading simply: “He did.”

  15 After attending a service conducted by Dr. Doane, later bishop of Albany, Mark Twain congratulated him on an enjoyable service. “I welcomed it as an old friend,” he went on. “I have a book at home containing every word of it.” Dr. Doane bristled. “I am sure you have not,” he replied huffily. “Indeed I have,” Twain persisted. “Well, I’d like to have a look at it then. Could you send it over to me?” The following day Twain sent him an unabridged dictionary.

  16 A devotee of cigars, Mark Twain was contemptuous of those who made a great to-do about giving up smoking. He always claimed that it was easy to quit: “I’ve done it a hundred times!”

  17 Mark Twain, careless about his dress, one day called on Harriet Beecher Stowe without his necktie. On his return Mrs. Clemens noticed the omission and scolded him. A little later a messenger turned up on Mrs. Stowe’s doorstep and handed her a small package. Inside was a black necktie, and a note: “Here is a necktie. Take it out and look at it. I think I stayed half an hour this morning without this necktie. At the end of that time, will you kindly return it, as it is the only one I have. Mark Twain.”

  18 Mark Twain loved to brag about his hunting and fishing exploits. He once spent three weeks fishing in the Maine woods, regardless of the fact that it was the state’s closed season for fishing. Relaxing in the lounge car of the train on his return journey to New York, his catch iced down in the baggage car, he looked for someone to whom he could relate the story of his successful holiday. The stranger to whom he began to boast of his sizable catch appeared at first unresponsive, then positively grim. “By the way, who are you, sir?” inquired Twain airily. “I’m the state game warden,” was the unwelcome response. “Who are you?” Twain nearly swallowed his cigar. “Well, to be perfectly truthful, warden,” he said hastily, “I’m the biggest damn liar in the whole United States.”