There is a quality in this letter more
suggestive of the later Mark Twain than anything
that has preceded it. His Third House address,
unfortunately, has not been preserved, but those
who heard it regarded it as a classic.
It probably abounded in humor of the frontier
sort-unsparing ridicule of the Governor, the Legislature,
and individual citizens. It was all taken
in good part, of course, and as a recognition
of his success he received a gold watch, with the
case properly inscribed to “The Governor of the
Third House.” This was really his
first public appearance in a field in which he was
destined to achieve very great fame.
LETTERS 1864-66. SAN FRANCISCO AND HAWAII
Life on the Comstock came to an end
for Mark Twain in May, 1864. It was the
time of The Flour Sack Sanitary Fund, the story of
which he has told in Roughing It. He does
not, however, refer to the troubles which this
special fund brought upon himself. Coming into
the Enterprise office one night, after a gay day
of “Fund” celebration, Clemens wrote,
for next day’s paper, a paragraph intended
to be merely playful, but which proved highly offending
to certain ladies concerned with the flour-sack
enterprise. No files of the paper exist
today, so we cannot judge of the quality of humor
that stirred up trouble.
The trouble, however, was genuine enough,
Virginia’s rival paper seized upon the
chance to humiliate its enemy, and presently words
were passed back and forth until nothing was left
to write but a challenge. The story of
this duel, which did not come off, has been quite
fully told elsewhere, both by Mark Twain and the present
writer; but the following letter—a
revelation of his inner feelings in the matter
of his offense—has never before been published.
To Mrs. Cutler,
in Carson City:
Virginia,
May 23rd, 1864.
Mrs. W. K. Cutler:
Madam,—I address a lady in every sense
of the term. Mrs. Clemens has informed me of
everything that has occurred in Carson in connection
with that unfortunate item of mine about the Sanitary
Funds accruing from the ball, and from what I can
understand, you are almost the only lady in your city
who has understood the circumstances under which my
fault was committed, or who has shown any disposition
to be lenient with me. Had the note of the ladies
been properly worded, I would have published an ample
apology instantly—and possibly I might even
have done so anyhow, had that note arrived at any
other time—but it came at a moment when
I was in the midst of what ought to have been a deadly
quarrel with the publishers of the Union, and I could
not come out and make public apologies to any one
at such a time. It is bad policy to do it even
now (as challenges have already passed between myself
and a proprietor of the Union, and the matter is still
in abeyance,) but I suppose I had better say a word
or two to show the ladies that I did not wilfully and
maliciously do them a wrong.
