Mark Twain, A Biography 1875-1886 | Page 6

thought he was entitled to at least one auditor, so I stayed
with him."
We may believe that for that one auditor the young author was willing
to sacrifice all the others.

One might continue these anecdotes for as long as the young man's
poem lasted, and perhaps hold as large an audience. But anecdotes are
not all of history. These are set down because they reflect a phase of the
man and an aspect of his life at this period. For at the most we can only
present an angle here and there, and tell a little of the story, letting each
reader from his fancy construct the rest.

CVI
HIS FIRST STAGE APPEARANCE
Once that winter the Monday Evening Club met at Mark Twain's home,
and instead of the usual essay he read them a story: "The Facts
Concerning the Recent Carnival of Crime in Connecticut." It was the
story of a man's warfare with a personified conscience--a, sort of
"William Wilson" idea, though less weird, less somber, and with more
actuality, more verisimilitude. It was, in fact, autobiographical, a
setting-down of the author's daily self-chidings. The climax, where
conscience is slain, is a startling picture which appeals to most of
humanity. So vivid is it all, that it is difficult in places not to believe in
the reality of the tale, though the allegory is always present.
The club was deeply impressed by the little fictional sermon. One of its
ministerial members offered his pulpit for the next Sunday if Mark
Twain would deliver it to his congregation. Howells welcomed it for
the Atlantic, and published it in June. It was immensely successful at
the time, though for some reason it seems to be little known or
remembered to-day. Now and then a reader mentions it, always with
enthusiasm. Howells referred to it repeatedly in his letters, and finally
persuaded Clemens to let Osgood bring it out, with "A True Story," in
dainty, booklet form. If the reader does not already know the tale, it
will pay him to look it up and read it, and then to read it again.
Meantime Tom Sawyer remained unpublished.
"Get Bliss to hurry it up!" wrote Howells. "That boy is going to make a
prodigious hit."
But Clemens delayed the book, to find some means to outwit the
Canadian pirates, who thus far had laid hands on everything, and now
were clamoring at the Atlantic because there was no more to steal.
Moncure D. Conway was in America, and agreed to take the
manuscript of Sawyer to London and arrange for its publication and

copyright. In Conway's Memoirs he speaks of Mark Twain's beautiful
home, comparing it and its surroundings with the homes of Surrey,
England. He tells of an entertainment given to Harriet Beecher Stowe, a
sort of animated jarley wax-works. Clemens and Conway went over as
if to pay a call, when presently the old lady was rather startled by an
invasion of costumed. figures. Clemens rose and began introducing
them in his gay, fanciful fashion. He began with a knight in full armor,
saying, as if in an aside, "Bring along that tinshop," and went on to tell
the romance of the knight's achievements.
Conway read Tom Sawyer on the ship and was greatly excited over it.
Later, in London, he lectured on it, arranging meantime for its
publication with Chatto & Windus, thus establishing a friendly business
relation with that firm which Mark Twain continued during his
lifetime.
Clemens lent himself to a number of institutional amusements that year,
and on the 26th of April, 1876, made his first public appearance on the
dramatic stage.
It was an amateur performance, but not of the usual kind. There was
genuine dramatic talent in Hartford, and the old play of the "Loan of
the Lover," with Mark Twain as Peter Spuyk and Miss Helen
Smith--[Now Mrs. William W. Ellsworth.]--as Gertrude, with a support
sufficient for their needs, gave a performance that probably furnished
as much entertainment as that pleasant old play is capable of providing.
Mark Twain had in him the making of a great actor. Henry Irving once
said to him:
"You made a mistake by not adopting the stage as a profession. You
would have made even a greater actor than a writer."
Yet it is unlikely that he would ever have been satisfied with the stage.
He had too many original literary ideas. He would never have been
satisfied to repeat the same part over and over again, night after night
from week to month, and from month to year. He could not stick to the
author's lines even for one night. In his performance of the easy-going,
thick-headed Peter Spuyk his impromptu additions to the lines made it
hard on the company, who found their