XCIX

A TYPEWRITER, AND A JOKE ON ALDRICH

It was during the trip to Boston with Twichell that Mark Twain saw for the first time what was then—­a brand-new invention, a typewriter; or it may have been during a subsequent visit, a week or two later.  At all events, he had the machine and was practising on it December 9, 1874, for he wrote two letters on it that day, one to Howells and the other to Orion Clemens.  In the latter he says: 

I am trying to get the hang of this new-fangled writing-machine, but am not making a shining success of it.  However, this is the first attempt I ever have made, and yet I perceive that I shall soon easily acquire a fine facility in its use.  I saw the thing in Boston the other day and was greatly taken with it.

He goes on to explain the new wonder, and on the whole his first attempt is a very creditable performance.  With his usual enthusiasm over an innovation, he believes it is going to be a great help to him, and proclaims its advantages.

This is the letter to Howells, with the errors preserved: 

You needn’t answer this; I am only practicing to get three; anothe slip-up there; only practici?ng ti get the hang of the thing.  I notice I miss fire & get in a good many unnecessary letters & punctuation marks.  I am simply using you for a target to bang at.  Blame my cats, but this thing requires genius in order to work it just right.

In an article written long after he tells how he was with Nasby when he first saw the machine in Boston through a window, and how they went in to see it perform.  In the same article he states that he was the first person in the world to apply the type-machine to literature, and that he thinks the story of Tom Sawyer was the first type-copied manuscript. —­[Tom Sawyer was not then complete, and had been laid aside.  The first type-copied manuscript was probably early chapters of the Mississippi story, two discarded typewritten pages of which still exist.]

The new enthusiasm ran its course and died.  Three months later, when the Remington makers wrote him for a recommendation of the machine, he replied that he had entirely stopped using it.  The typewriter was not perfect in those days, and the keys did not always respond readily.  He declared it was ruining his morals—­that it made him “want to swear.”  He offered it to Howells because, he said, Howells had no morals anyway.  Howells hesitated, so Clemens traded the machine to Bliss for a side-saddle.  But perhaps Bliss also became afraid of its influence, for in due time he brought it back.  Howells, again tempted, hesitated, and this time was lost.  What eventually became of the machine is not history.

One of those, happy Atlantic dinners which Howells tells of came about the end of that year.  It was at the Parker House, and Emerson was there; and Aldrich, and the rest of that group.