mark twain, a biography, 1907-1910-第45部分

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The　Library　at　the　British　Museum　I　find　particularly　astounding。　　I　have
read　there　hours　together；　and　hardly　made　an　impression　on　it。　　I　revere
that　library。　　It　is　the　author's　friend。　　I　don't　care　how　mean　a　book
is；　it　always　takes　one　copy。　　＇A　copy　of　every　book　printed　in　Great
Britain　must　by　law　be　sent　to　the　British　Museum；　a　law　much　complained
of　by　publishers。＇　　And　then　every　day　that　author　goes　there　to　gaze　at
that　book；　and　is　encouraged　to　go　on　in　the　good　work。　　And　what　a
touching　sight　it　is　of　a　Saturday　afternoon　to　see　the　poor；　careworn
clergymen　gathered　together　in　that　vast　reading…room　cabbaging　sermons
for　Sunday！　　You　will　pardon　my　referring　to　these　things。　　Everything　in
this　monster　city　interests　me；　and　I　cannot　keep　from　talking；　even　at
the　risk　of　being　instructive。　　People　here　seem　always　to　express
distances　by　parables。　　To　a　stranger　it　is　just　a　little　confusing　to　be
so　parabolicso　to　speak。　　I　collar　a　citizen；　and　I　think　I　am　going　to
get　some　valuable　information　out　of　him。　　I　ask　him　how　far　it　is　to
Birmingham；　and　he　says　it　is　twenty…one　shillings　and　sixpence。　　Now　we
know　that　doesn't　help　a　man　who　is　trying　to　learn。　　I　find　myself　down…
town　somewhere；　and　I　want　to　get　some　sort　of　idea　where　I　ambeing
usually　lost　when　aloneand　I　stop　a　citizen　and　say；　〃How　far　is　it　to
Charing　Cross？〃　　〃Shilling　fare　in　a　cab；〃　and　off　he　goes。　　I　suppose　if
I　were　to　ask　a　Londoner　how　far　it　is　from　the　sublime　to　the　ridiculous
he　would　try　to　express　it　in　a　coin。　　But　I　am　trespassing　upon　your
time　with　these　geological　statistics　and　historical　reflections。　　I　will
not　longer　keep　you　from　your　orgies。　　'Tis　a　real　pleasure　for　me　to　be
here；　and　I　thank　you　for　it。　　The　name　of　the　Savage　Club　is　associated
in　my　mind　with　the　kindly　interest　and　the　friendly　offices　which　you
lavished　upon　an　old　friend　of　mine　who　came　among　you　a　stranger；　and
you　opened　your　English　hearts　to　him　and　gave　him　a　welcome　and　a　home
Artemus　Ward。　　Asking　that　you　will　join　me；　I　give　you　his　Memory。






APPENDIX　M

LETTER　WRITTEN　TO　MRS。　CLEMENS　FROM　BOSTON；　NOVEMBER；　1874；　PROPHESYING　A
MONARCHY　IN　SIXTY…ONE　YEARS

（See　Chapter　xcvii）

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　BOSTON；　November　16；　1935。

DEAR　LIVY；　You　observe　I　still　call　this　beloved　old　place　by　the　name
it　had　when　I　was　young。　　Limerick！　　It　is　enough　to　make　a　body　sick。

The　gentlemen…in…waiting　stare　to　see　me　sit　here　telegraphing　this
letter　to　you；　and　no　doubt　they　are　smiling　in　their　sleeves。　　But　let
them！　　The　slow　old　fashions　are　good　enough　for　me；　thank　God；　and　I
will　none　other。　　When　I　see　one　of　these　modern　fools　sit　absorbed；
holding　the　end　of　a　telegraph　wire　in　his　hand；　and　reflect　that　a
thousand　miles　away　there　is　another　fool　hitched　to　the　other　end　of　it；
it　makes　me　frantic　with　rage；　and　then　I　am　more　implacably　fixed　and
resolved　than　ever　to　continue　taking　twenty　minutes　to　telegraph　you
what　I　might　communicate　in　ten　seconds　by　the　new　way　if　I　would　so
debase　myself。　　And　when　I　see　a　whole　silent；　solemn　drawing…room　full
of　idiots　sitting　with　their　hands　on　each　other's　foreheads　〃communing〃
I　tug　the　white　hairs　from　my　head　and　curse　till　my　asthma　brings　me　the
blessed　relief　of　suffocation。　　In　our　old　day　such　a　gathering　talked
pure　drivel　and　〃rot；〃　mostly；　but　better　that；　a　thousand　times；　than
these　dreary　conversational　funerals　that　oppress　our　spirits　in　this　mad
generation。

It　is　sixty　years　since　I　was　here　before。　　I　walked　hither　then　with　my
precious　old　friend。　　It　seems　incredible　now　that　we　did　it　in　two　days；
but　such　is　my　recollection。　　I　no　longer　mention　that　we　walked　back　in
a　single　day；　it　makes　me　so　furious　to　see　doubt　in　the　face　of　the
hearer。　　Men　were　men　in　those　old　times。　　Think　of　one　of　the　puerile
organisms　in　this　effeminate　age　attempting　such　a　feat。

My　air…ship　was　delayed　by　a　collision　with　a　fellow　from　China　loaded
with　the　usual　cargo　of　jabbering；　copper…colored　missionaries；　and　so　I
was　nearly　an　hour　on　my　journey。　　But　by　the　goodness　of　God　thirteen　of
the　missionaries　were　crippled　and　several　killed；　so　I　was　content　to
lose　the　time。　　I　love　to　lose　time　anyway　because　it　brings　soothing
reminiscences　of　the　creeping　railroad　days　of　old；　now　lost　to　us
forever。

Our　game　was　neatly　played；　and　successfully。　　None　expected　us；　of
course。　　You　should　have　seen　the　guards　at　the　ducal　palace　stare　when　I
said；　〃Announce　his　Grace　the　Archbishop　of　Dublin　and　the　Right
Honorable　the　Earl　of　Hartford。〃　　Arrived　within；　we　were　all　eyes　to　see
the　Duke　of　Cambridge　and　his　Duchess；　wondering　if　we　might　remember
their　faces　and　they　ours。　　In　a　moment　they　came　tottering　in；　he；　bent
and　withered　and　bald；　she；　blooming　with　wholesome　old　age。　　He　peered
through　his　glasses　a　moment；　then　screeched　in　a　reedy　voice；　〃Come　to
my　arms！　　Away　with　titlesI'll　know　ye　by　no　names　but　Twain　and
Twichell！〃　　Then　fell　he　on　our　necks　and　jammed　his　trumpet　in　his　ear；
the　which　we　filled　with　shoutings　to　this　effect：　〃God　bless　you；　old
Howells；　what　is　left　of　you！〃

We　talked　late　that　nightnone　of　your　silent　idiot　〃communings〃　for　us
of　the　olden　time。　　We　rolled　a　stream　of　ancient　anecdotes　over　our
tongues　and　drank　till　the　Lord　Archbishop　grew　so　mellow　in　the　mellow
past　that　Dublin　ceased　to　be　Dublin　to　him；　and　resumed　its　sweeter；
forgotten　name　of　New　York。　　In　truth　he　almost　got　back　into　his　ancient
religion；　too；　good　Jesuit　as　he　has　always　been　since　O'Mulligan　the
First　established　that　faith　in　the　empire。

And　we　canvassed　everybody。　　Bailey　Aldrich；　Marquis　of　Ponkapog；　came
in；　got　nobly　drunk；　and　told　us　all　about　how　poor　Osgood　lost　his
earldom　and　was　hanged　for　conspiring　against　the　second　Emperor；　but　he
didn't　mention　how　near　he　himself　came　to　being　hanged；　too；　for
engaging　in　the　same　enterprise。　　He　was　as　chaffy　as　he　was　sixty　years
ago；　too；　and　swore　the　Archbishop　and　I　never　walked　to　Boston；　but
there　was　never　a　day　that　Ponkapog　wouldn't　lie；　so　be　it　by　the　grace
of　God　he　got　the　opportunity。

The　Lord　High　Admiral　came　in；　a　hale　gentleman　close　upon　seventy　and
bronzed　by　the　suns　and　storms　of　many　climes　and　scarred　by　the　wounds
got　in　many　battles；　and　I　told　him　how　I　had　seen　him　sit　in　a　high…
chair　and　eat　fruit　and　cakes　and　answer　to　the　name　of　Johnny。　　His
granddaughter　（the　eldest）　is　but　lately　married　to　the　youngest　of　the
Grand　Dukes；　and　so　who　knows　but　a　day　may　come　when　the　blood　of　the
Howellses　may　reign　in　the　land？　　I　must　not　forget　to　say；　while　I　think
of　it；　that　your　new　false　teeth　are　done；　my　dear；　and　your　wig。　　Keep
your　head　well　bundled　with　a　shawl　till　the　latter　comes；　and　so　cheat
your　persecuting　neuralgias　and　rheumatisms。　　Would　you　believe　it？the
Duchess　of　Cambridge　is　deafer　than　youdeafer　than　her　husband。　　They
call　her　to　breakfast　with　a　salvo　of　artillery；　and　usually　when　it
thunders　she　looks　up　expectantly　and　says；　〃Come　in。〃　　But　she　has
become　subdued　and　gentle　with　age　and　never　destroys　the　furniture　now；
except　when　uncommonly　vexed。　　God　knows；　my　dear；　it　would　be　a　happy
thing　if　you　and　old　Lady　Harmony　would　imitate　this　spirit。　　But　indeed
the　older　you　grow　the　less　secure　becomes　the　furniture。　　When　I　throw
chairs　through　the　window　I　have　sufficient　reason　to　back　it。　　But　you
you　are　but　a　creature　of　passion。

The　monument　to　the　author　of　'Gloverson　and　His　Silent　Partners'　is
finished。＇Ralph　Keeler。　　See　chap。　　lxxxiii。＇　It　is　the　stateliest
and　the　costliest　ever　erected　to　the　memory　of　any　man。　　This　noble
classic　has　now　been　translated　into　all　the　languages　of　the　earth　and
is　adored　by　all　nations　and　known　to　all　creatures。　　Yet　I　have
conversed　as　familiarly　with　the　author　of　it　as　I　do　with　my　own　great…
grandchildren。

I　wish　you　could　see　old　Cambridge　and　Ponkapog。　　I　love　them　as　dearly
as　ever；　but　privately；　my　dear；　they　are　not　much　improvement　on　idiots。　
It　is　melancholy　to　hear　them　jabber　over　the　same　pointless　anecdotes
three　and　four　times　of　an　evening；　forgetting　that　they　had　jabbered
them　over　three　or　four　times　the　evening　before。　　Ponkapog　still　writes
poetry；　but　the　old…time　fire　has　mostly　gone　out　of　it。　　Perhaps　his
best　effort　of　late　years　is　this：

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　O　soul；　soul；　soul　of　mine！
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Soul；　soul；　soul　of　throe！
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Thy　soul；　my　soul；　two　souls　entwine；　
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　And　sing　thy　lauds　in　crystal　wine！


This　he　goes　about　repeating　to　everybody；　daily　and　nightly；　insomuch
that　he　is　become　a　sore　affliction　to　all　that　know　him。

But　I　must　desist。　　There　are　draughts　here　everywhere　and　my　gout　is
something　frightful。　　My　left　foot　hath　resemblance　to　a　snuff…bladder。　
God　be　with　you。　　
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　HARTFORD。

These　to　Lady　Hartford；　in　the　earldom　of　Hartford；　in　the
upper　portion　of　the　city　of　Dublin。






APPENDIX　N

MARK　TWAIN　AND　COPYRIGHT


I

PETITION

Concerning　Copyright　（1875）
（See　Chapter　cii）

TO　THE　SENATE　AND　HOUSE　OF　REPRESENTATIVES　OF　THE　UNITED　STATES　IN
CONGRESS　ASSEMBLED。

We；　your　petitioners；　do　respectfully　represent　as　follows；　viz。：　That
justice；　plain　and　simple；　is　a　thing　which　right…feeling　men　stand　ready
at　all　times　to　accord　to　brothers　and　strangers　alike。　　All　such　men
will　concede　that　it　is　but　plain；　simple　justice　that　American　authors
should　be　protected　by　copyright　in　Europe；　also；　that　European　authors
should　be　protected　by　copyright　here。

Both　divisions　of　this　proposition　being　true；　it　behooves　our　government
to　concern　itself　with　that　division　of　it　which　comes　peculiarly　within
its　provinceviz。；　the　latter　moietyand　to　grant　to　foreign　authors
with　all　convenient　despatch　a　full　and　effective　copyright　in　America
without　marring　the　grace　of　the　act　by　stopping　to　inquire　whether　a
similar　justice　will　be　done　our　own　authors　by　foreign　governments。　　If
it　were　even　known　that　those　governments　would　not　extend　this　justice
to　us　it　would　still　not　j