Feb. 7th.
I overheard papa telling Jean a story this morning, it amused me very much it was a story of such great variety, and indeed papa has practise in telling stories of variety as Jean is a child of variety and original ideas, and papa is too, (I mean such a man) so half of the story he devotes to his own fancy, (if Jean allows) the other half to Jeans; I heard only a part of the story this morning, so I asked Jean to tell it to me afterwards so she did, and here it is as she gives it.
“Well once there was a register who went out walking He saw a school-house, and he went into the school-house; He saw the big children pushed away the little children in the cold part of the room. He went in a corner and warmed the little childern, and as soon as the little childern said it felt so warm, the big childern came and pushed them away then the reg. closed and then one of the big boys said, he would put in his finger and try to open it and snapp closed the register tighter with his finger in. Then the little childern had the stove. Then the boy that was pinched, howled and cryed so, that the other big children couldn’t stay in the school house. So they went out and looked to see where that heatness came from (they thought it came from the sun or from the ground) and they couldnt see. Then they went and borrowed quite a few baloons, and went up in the air, and they went up higher and higher and higher and higher and they let out a bird, the children were frosen when they put out a bird, the bird didn’t know where he was, and he went among the clouds, and pretty soon he came back sailing back again and they sailed and sailed and sailed and went over oceans and seas and ships, and pretty soon they landed in Africa. Quite a few plain people and a few Indians came, and some lions and tigers, and the lions nibbled at the frozen childern, and couldn’t bite them. Then a man came and said they were missionarys on the half shell and they must be thawed out. So they thawed them out, and pretty soon they got growed up to women and men, and were very good missionarys and converted many, and a[t] last wer eaten at a barbecue—.
Jean, who is very fond of animals, demands strictly animal stories from papa, for which I am very sorry, as I think his other stories are better. Here is another story, of papa’s, told to me by Jean.
A Tiger in the Jungle.
Once there was a tiger lying in a jungle on a very hot day, he heard a cow in front of him “Moo,—“Moo” Moo” He got up and said he would have a real nice breakfast. But he couldn’t catch the cow, and he heard a little calf, so he stopped trying to catch the cow and ran after the calf, pretty soon he heard a cat “Meau”—“Meau,” still nearer him than the calf, so he chased the cat, then he heard a dog,—“Bow, wow,” so he ran after the dog, then he heard a rooster “Cuck-adoodle-doo,”—then he ran after the rooster, round, and round, and round, the rooster seemed nearer, and nearer, but still he couldn’t get it, at last he fell down dead, from tiredness. He had been running after his own tail.
This story was told in the same way as the two preceeding ones.
The Donkey what Could Talk.
Once there was a donkey and he went out walking. And he saw some children and he wondered why those children had books under their arms, And he thought he would go with them to see what they did. And he went into the school-house with them, and they showed him their books, But he couldn’t understand the words in the books, so one evening moonshine, he thought he would go to the school-house, and eat some of the books. He went and ate, German books, and English books, and French books and all kinds of books, and had a great deal of stomach ache afterwards, And when the children came home they wondered where their books were, and they couldn’t see where the books were, they couldnt see. Then the childrern said, “Why this donkey must have eaten our books. But the donkey said he hadn’t touched books. Then the school-teacher came home and the childrern said that this donkey could talk. And the school-teacher wanted to hear him. So the childrern called him, and he came and spoke to them, and as soon as the people saw, and heard this wonderful donkey talk, they immediately asked him to belong to their church. So he did. And when the choir sang, he sang with it, but he was not satisfied to sing in company with others, fearing his voice, might not be distinctly enough heard. So he asked for permission to sing alone in place of the choir his request was granted him, and he sang regulary after that, every Sunday. At last people got so much interested in him that he was ellected to be Member of Congress, which honor he also accepted; and he was the first donkey that ever was member of Congress. And finally he ran for President and so he was the learnedest donkey that ever was.—
Feb. 12. ’86.
Mamma and I have both been very much troubled of late because papa, since he has been publishing Gen. Grant’s book, has seemed to forget his own books and work entirely, and the other evening as papa and I were promonading up and down the library he told me that he didn’t expect to write but one more book, and then he was ready to give up work altogether, die, or do anything, he said that he had written more than he had ever expected to, and the only book that he had been pertickularly anxious to write was one locked up in the safe down stairs, not yet published.
But this intended future of course will never do, and although papa usualy holds to his own opinions and intents with outsiders, when mamma realy desires anything and says that it must be, papa allways gives up his plans (at least so far) and does as she says (and she is usually right, if she dissagrees with [him] at all). It was because he knew his great tendency to being convinced by her, that he published without her knowledge that article in the “Christian Union” conscerning the government of children. So judging by the proofs of past years, I think that we will be able, to persuade papa to go back to work as before, and not leave off writing with the end of his next story. Mamma says that she sometimes feels, and I do too, that she would rather have papa depend on his writing for a living, than to have him think of giving it up.
Ever since papa and mamma were married, papa has written his books and then taken them to mamma in manuscript and she has expergated them. Papa read “Hucleberry Finn” to us in manuscript just before it came out, and then he would leave parts of it with mamma to expergate, while he went off up to the study to work, and sometimes Clara and I would be sitting with mamma while she was looking the manuscript over, and I remember so well, with what pangs of regret we used to see her turn down the leaves of the pages, which meant, that some delightfully dreadful part must be scratched out. And I remember one part pertickularly which was perfectly fascinating it was dreadful, that Clara and I used to delight in, had to [be] scratched out, and Oh with what dispair we saw mamma turn down the leaf on which it was, written, we thought the book would be almost ruind without it. But we gradually came to feel as mamma did.
Feb. 12. ’86.
Papa has long wanted us to have an international copywright in this country, so two or three weeks ago, he went to Washington to see what he could do (to influence the government) in favor of one. Here is a discription of the hearing of the Senate that he attended.
Mark Twain in his Quarry Farm study, 1874.
Jan. 30. ’86.—
The Outlook for International Copyright.
WASHINGTON, January 30.—It is the impression of those who have followed the hearing in international copyright that the Senate Committee on Patents will report favorably the bill with the “printers’ amendment,” which is advocated by General Hawley, by Senator Chase, by Mr. Clemens, and other publishers who are also authors, and is accepted by the representative of the Typographical Union, which, as the agent of that Union somewhat grandiloquently told the Committee, through its affiliation with the Knights of Labor, speaks for from 4,000,000 to 5,000,000 people. Although it was clearly demonstrated to the Committee by Mr. Lowell and others that the American author is the only laborer who is obliged to compete with those who are not paid anything, the influence of the book manufacturers, and of labor unions, and of the various protected interests, is so strong in Congress that those who boast that they are “practical legislators” will not support a bi
ll solely on the ground that, as Mr. Lowell put it, “it is a measure of morality and justice.” It is not, however, measures of morality and justice that can control the most votes. Mr. Clemens, in his humorous way, during the hearing said a very practical thing, in accordance with which the Committee is very likely to act. He said that while the American author has a great interest in American books, there are a great many others who are interested in book-making in its various forms, and the “other fellows” are the larger part. It is probable that the strongest opposition which the bill will encounter in the two houses will come from those who wish to maintain the present system of “cheap and nasty” reprints on the ground that they wish to make literature cheap. One of the interesting incidents of the last hearing was the presentation of a memorial in facsimile of American authors by Mr. R. R. Bowker, who used it to illustrate the fact that the American author is the only American workingman who has really to compete with unpaid labor. It is a curious pamphlet. It contains the autographs of the great body of American citizens “who earn their living in whole or in part by their pen, and who are put at disadvantage in their own country by the publication of foreign books without payment to the author, so that American books are undersold to the detriment of American literature.”
Papa has written a new version of “There is a happy land” it is—
“There is a happy land
Far, far away,
Where they have ham and eggs,
Three times a day,
Oh dont those boarders yell
When they hear the dinner-bell,
They give that land-lord rats
Three times a day.”
’86. Feb. 22.
Yesterday evening papa read to us the beginning of his new, book, in manuscript, and we enjoyed it very much, it was founded, on a New Englanders visit to England in the time of King Arthur and his round table.—
Feb. 27. Sunday.—
Clara’s reputation as a baby was always a fine one, mine exactly the contrary. One often related story conscerning her braveness as a baby, and her own oppinion of this quality of hers is this. Clara and I often got slivers in ours hands and when mamma took them out with a much dreaded needle, Clara was always very brave, and I very cowardly. One day Clara got one of these slivers in her hand, a very bad one, and while mamma was taking it out, Clara stood perfectly still without even wincing; I saw how brave she was and turning to mamma said “Mamma isn’t she a brave little thing! presently mamma had to give the little hand quite a dig with the needle and noticing how perfectly quiet Clara was about it she exclaimed, why Clara! you are a brave little thing! Clara responded “No bodys braver but God!”—
Feb. 27. ’86.
Last summer while we were in Elmira an article came out in the “Christian Union” by name “What ought he to have done” treating of the government of children, or rather giving an account of a fathers battle with his little baby boy; by the mother of the child and put in the form of a question as to whether the father disciplined the child corectly or not, different people wrote their opinions of the fathers behavior, and told what they thought he should have done. Mamma had long known how to disciplin children, for in fact the bringing up of children had been one of her specialties for many years. She had a great many theories, but one of them was, that if a child was big enough to be nauty, it was big enough to be whipped and here we all agreed with her. I remember one morning when Dr. —— came up to the farm he had a long discussion with mamma, upon the following topic. Mamma gave this, as illustrative of one important rule for punishing a child. She said we will suppose the boy has thrown a handkerchief onto the floor, I tell him to pick it up, he refuses. I tell him again. he refuses. Then I say you must either pick up the handkerchief, or have a whipping. My theory is never to make a child have a whipping and pick up the handkerchief too. I say “If you do not pick it up, I must punish you.” if he doesn’t he gets the whipping, but I pick up the handkerchief, if he does he gets no punishment. I tell him to do a thing if he disobeys me he is punished for so doing, but not forced to obey me afterwards.”
When Clara and I had been very nauty or were being very nauty, the nurse would go and call mamma and she would appear suddenly and look at us (she had a way of looking at us when she was displeased as if she could see right through us) till we were ready to sink through the floor from embarasment, and total absence of knowing what to say. This look was usually followed with “Clar” or “Susy what [do] you mean by this? do you want to come to the bath-room with me?” Then followed the climax for Clara and I both new only too well what going to the bath-room meant.
But mamma’s first and foremost object was to make the child understand that he is being punnished for his sake, and because the mother so loves him that she cannot allow him to do wrong; also that it is as hard for her to punnish him, as for him to be punnished and even harder. Mamma never allowed herself to punnish us when she was angry with us she never struck us because she was enoyed at us and felt like striking us if we had been nauty and had enoyed her, so that she thought she felt or would show the least bit of temper toward us while punnishing us, she always postponed the punishment, until she was no more chafed by our behavior. She never humoured herself by striking or punishing us because or while she was the least bit enoyed with us.
Our very worst nautinesses were punished by being taken to the bathroom and being whipped by the paper cutter.b But after the whipping was over, mamma did not allow us to leave her until we were perfectly happy, and perfectly understood why we had been whipped. I never remember having felt the least bit bitterly toward mamma for punishing me, I always felt I had deserved my punishment, and was much happier for having received it. For after mamma had punished us and shown her displeasure, she showed no signs of further displeasure, but acted as if we had not displeased her in any way.—
But Mamma’s oppinions and ideas upon the subject of bringing up children has always been more or less of a joke in our family, particularly since Papa’s article in the Christian Union,” and I am sure Clara and I have related the history of our old family paper-cutter, our punishments and privations with rather more pride and triumph, because of mamma’s way of rearing us, then any other sentiment.
When the article “What ought he to have done?” came out mamma read it, and was very much interested in it. And when papa heard that she had read it he went to work and secretly wrote his opinion of what the father ought to have done. He told aunt Susy Clar and I, about it but mamma was not to see it or hear any thing about it till it came out. He gave it to aunt Susy to read, and after Clara and I gone up to get ready for bed he brought it up for us to read. He told what he thought the father ought to have done by telling what mamma would have done. The article was a beautiful tribute to mamma and every word in it true; But still in writing about mamma he partly forgot that the article was going to be published I think, and expressed himself more fully than he would do the second time he wrote it; I think the article has done and will do a great deal of good, and I think it would have been perfect for the family and friends’ enjoyment, but a little bit too private to have been published as it was. And Papa felt so too, because the very next day or a few days after, he went down to New York to see if he couldn’t get it back before it was published but it was too [late] and he had to return wi[t]hout it. When the Christian Union reached the farm and papa’s article in it all ready and waiting to be read to mamma papa hadn’t the courage to show it to her (for he knew she wouldn’t like it at all) at first, and he didn’t but he might [have] let it go and never let her see it; but finally he gave his consent to her seeing it, and told Clara and I we could take it to her, which we did, with tardiness, and we all stood around mamma while she read it, all wondering what she would say and think about it.
She was too much surprised, (and pleased privately, too) [to] say much at first, but as we all expected publicly, (or rather when she remembered that this article was to be read by every one that took t
he Christian Union) she was rather shocked and a little displeased.
C. and I had great fun the night papa gave it to us to read and then hide, so mamma couldn’t see it, for just as we were in the midst of reading it mamma appeared papa following anxiously and asked why we were not in bed? then a scuffle ensued for we told her it was a secret and tried to hide it; but [she] chased us wherever we went, till she thought it was time for us to go to bed, then she surendered and left us to tuck it under Clara’s matress.
A little while after the article was published letters began to come in to papa crittisizing it, there were some very pleasant ones but a few very disagreble, one of these, the very worst, mamma got hold of and read, to papa’s great regret, it was full of the most disagreble things, and so very enoying to papa that he for a time felt he must do something to show the author of it his great displeasure at being so insulted. But he finally decided not to, because he felt the man had some cause for feeling enoyed at [him], for papa had spoken of him, (he was the baby’s father) rather slightingly in his Christian Union Article.
After all this, papa and mamma both wished I think they might never hear or be spoken to on the subject of the Christian Union article, and whenever any has spoken to me and told me “How much they did enjoy my father’s article in the Christain Union” I almost laughed in their faces when I remembered what a great variety of oppinion had been expressed upon the subject of [the] Christian Union article of papa’s.
A Family Sketch and Other Private Writings Page 14