Mark Twain, A Biography 1907-1910 | Page 9

very cup which the stainless
Sir Galahad had sought with knightly devotion in far fields of peril and
adventure in Arthur's time, fourteen hundred years ago; the same cup
which princely knights of other bygone ages had laid down their lives
in long and patient efforts to find, and had passed from life
disappointed--and here it was at last, dug up by a grain-broker at no
cost of blood or travel, and apparently no purity required of him above
the average purity of the twentieth-century dealer in cereal futures; not
even a stately name required--no Sir Galahad, no Sir Bors de Ganis, no
Sir Lancelot of the Lake--nothing but a mere Mr. Pole.--[From the New
York Sun somewhat later: "Mr. Pole communicated the discovery to a
dignitary of the Church of England, who summoned a number of
eminent persons, including psychologists, to see and discuss it. Forty
attended, including some peers with ecclesiastical interests,
Ambassador Whitelaw Reid, Professor Crookas, and ministers of
various religious bodies, including the Rev. R. J. Campbell. They heard
Mr. Pole's story with deep attention, but he could not prove the
genuineness of the relic."]

Clemens saw Mr. and Mrs. Rogers at Claridge's Hotel that evening;
lunched with his old friends Sir Norman and Lady Lockyer next day;
took tea with T. P. O'Connor at the House of Commons, and on the day
following, which was June a 5th, he was the guest of honor at one of
the most elaborate occasions of his visit--a luncheon given by the
Pilgrims at the Savoy Hotel. It would be impossible to set down here a
report of the doings, or even a list of the guests, of that gathering. The
Pilgrims is a club with branches on both sides of the ocean, and Mark
Twain, on either side, was a favorite associate. At this luncheon the
picture on the bill of fare represented him as a robed pilgrim, with a
great pen for his staff, turning his back on the Mississippi River and
being led along his literary way by a huge jumping frog, to which he is
attached by a string. On a guest-card was printed:
Pilot of many Pilgrims since the shout "Mark Twain!"--that serves you
for a deathless sign-- On Mississippi's waterway rang out Over the
plummet's line--
Still where the countless ripples laugh above The blue of halcyon seas
long may you keep Your course unbroken, buoyed upon a love Ten
thousand fathoms deep!
--O. S. [OWEN SEAMAN].
Augustine Birrell made the speech of introduction, closing with this
paragraph:
Mark Twain is a man whom Englishmen and Americans do well to
honor. He is a true consolidator of nations. His delightful humor is of
the kind which dissipates and destroys national prejudices. His truth
and his honor--his love of truth and his love of honor-- overflow all
boundaries. He has made the world better by his presence, and we
rejoice to see him here. Long may he live to reap a plentiful harvest of
hearty honest human affection.
The toast was drunk standing. Then Clemens rose and made a speech
which delighted all England. In his introduction Mr. Birrell had
happened to say, "How I came here I will not ask!" Clemens
remembered this, and looking down into Mr. Birrell's wine-glass,
which was apparently unused, he said:
"Mr. Birrell doesn't know how he got here. But he will be able to get
away all right--he has not drunk anything since he came."
He told stories about Howells and Twichell, and how Darwin had gone

to sleep reading his books, and then he came down to personal things
and company, and told them how, on the day of his arrival, he had been
shocked to read on a great placard, "Mark Twain Arrives: Ascot Cup
Stolen."
No doubt many a person was misled by those sentences joined together
in that unkind way. I have no doubt my character has suffered from it. I
suppose I ought to defend my character, but how can I defend it? I can
say here and now that anybody can see by my face that I am
sincere--that I speak the truth, and that I have never seen that Cup. I
have not got the Cup, I did not have a chance to get it. I have always
had a good character in that way. I have hardly ever stolen anything,
and if I did steal anything I had discretion enough to know about the
value of it first. I do not steal things that are likely to get myself into
trouble. I do not think any of us do that. I know we all take things--that
is to be expected; but really I have never taken anything, certainly in
England, that amounts to any great thing. I do confess that when