16–22 August 1864
The text of this untitled sketch is taken from a holograph preserved in the Jean Webster McKinney Family Papers, now at Vassar. The sketch has not been published before.
The approximate date of composition is established by the close relationship between the present sketch and “Inexplicable News from San José” (no. 87), which Clemens published in the San Francisco Morning Call on 23 August 1864. It seems likely that the Call piece was a later, shorter, and better-proportioned version of the present sketch: a number of passages from “Sarrozay Letter” appear almost verbatim in “Inexplicable News”—usually somewhat shorter, but occasionally longer, than in the first version. Clemens must have composed both sketches sometime after August 14, when he took his bibulous trip to San José, and it seems most likely that the present sketch was abandoned before he published “Inexplicable News” on August 23. This conjecture is supported by Mark Twain's prefatory note to the earlier version, which addresses the editors of the San Francisco Golden Era, presumably because he originally planned to publish it there: the publication of the Call version would have made the longer one unacceptable to the Era or to any other local paper. Thus if we allow one day for Clemens to return from San José (and recover from his hangover), we can assume that the present sketch was probably drafted between August 16 and 22.
Clemens was one of a convivial group of men who visited San José and Harrisburgh (Warm Springs) on August 14, traveling on the recently completed San Francisco and San José Railroad. Eight newspapermen and Lewis Leland, proprietor of the Occidental Hotel, made up the party. Of these, Clemens mentioned by name only Leland, “Livingston” (probably [begin page 50] Henry B. Livingston, law reporter for the San Francisco Alta California),1 and “Steve” (probably his friend Steve Gillis). Warm Springs was a popular resort about twelve miles from San José. According to the reporter on the Alta, the men spent three hours there “in sauntering through the grounds, bathing, dining, etc.”—the last apparently a euphemism for drinking.2 Clemens introduced his own form of euphemism in the present sketch by attributing the drunken letter to the Unreliable (Clement T. Rice of the Virginia City Union). The manuscript shows that he originally signed the letter “Mark Twain,” but thought better of this, canceled the signature, substituted “The Unreliable,” and finally added the prefatory letter, which he signed “Mark Twain.”
Eds. Golden Era:—Going down to San José last Sunday, to write a letter to the newspaper with which I am connected, I was taken somewhat sick, and the “Unreliable” being along, I ventured to entrust him with my work. I send you the result, for I have no use for it myself. This is the twentieth time I have been deceived by that well-meaning but unstable young man, and it shall be the last. Every time he gets a commission of this kind, he calls himself an editor, and gets drunk—to prove it, perhaps, though I cannot conceive how he hopes to establish such a fact by such an argument.
Yours, sadly,
Mark Twain.
Sarrozay, Last Sunday.
Sarrozay's beauriful place. Flowers—or maybe it's me—smells delishs—like sp—sp—sp—(ic!)—irits turpentine. Now, I'll stop that h(ic!)iccups again. All right.
It's a beauriful place. I'll tell you all about it. All the newsper m-men in Saffercisco'sⒶemendation here this morring—one editorⒶalteration in the MS from Alta, one from Flag, one from Bulletin, one from Sacramento Union, one from Carson Independent, twoⒶalteration in the MS from MorringⒶalteration in the MS Call—besides me—or with me—or somehow; nev'Ⓐalteration in the MS mind, you unstand—and Leland of the Occidental Hotel—all the newsper menⒶalteration in the MS in Saffrancisco, in fac,—an all drunk—think of that! All drunk but me. By Georshe,Ⓐalteration in the MS I'm stonished. (Hic!)Ⓐalteration in the MS Shamed of 'em, too. Because, you know, such conduct reflects on me—an reflectn on me, reflects on the f—f'ternity, unstandⒶemendation?
Been out to WarrumⒶalteration in the MS Springs in a horse an four buggies, with Leland, an Livingston, an Steve. Splennid place. Many women there f'm Saffercisco. Enjoying themselves. All drunk. Baths exlent—but makes 'em stagger. Singlar effect, ain't it? I like the Warrum Springs. Four nice houses—sometimes scarreredⒶalteration in the MS around—sometimes all in a jumble—sometimes all in a row. Owing to something or other, praps. Everything looks dizzy—an mixed. Curus.
Sarrozay's lovely place. Shade trees all down both sides street, an in the middle—an gardens. That's two streets back of Connental Hotel. With a new church, in a scaffolding. I don' see how they got her in—I don'Ⓐalteration in the MS see how they goin' to get her out. But she's corraled—for good, praps. Poor ch(ic!)urch!Ⓐalteration in the MS Drat them hiccups. It's f'm s—sociatingⒶemendation with drunkenⒶalteration in the MS beasts. Beauriful girls here,Ⓐalteration in the MS staggering up an down that street, looking uneasy, an trying to keep f'm running over people. Riding around, also, in buggies—Ⓐalteration in the MSdangerous, when they're in such a condition.
Came down in the cars—no, on the locomotive. Nolan—Mike NolanⒺexplanatory note, conductor, most intelligent, most polite, most obliging conductor in the world. It was me that asked him lemmeⒶalteration in the MS ride on the cow-catcher, because I could see there warn't room enough in the cars for me to enjoy myself strong.Ⓐalteration in the MS He said it was just the thing—said he wanted some r-reliable man—some personⒶalteration in the MS he was acquainted with, unstand?—an could depend on—to get on the tender an hold the locomotive on the track. She was shaky. I held her, all the way down. I held her down to the earth. The engineer was grateful. SaidⒶalteration in the MS I was a nice boy—nice, clean boy—an if I hadn't held her down, she'd a left the State; she'd a gone to sea; he couldn't a held her. The engineer's a gentleman. The only sober man I see on that train.Ⓐalteration in the MS
Country on both sides charming, but mixed. All on the move. Trees an bushes by the road appear to whiz; look strung out—hazy, like dust was blowing through 'em. Houses there waltz around all the time; see one ahead steadying herself a while, taking aim at you, an here she comes, like a shotⒶalteration in the MS; you dodge, an she don't miss you a yard, sometimes. EverythingⒶemendation on the move—turning round an round; everything drunk, youⒶalteration in the MS might say. Dangerous country to live in, praps, where everything's on the move; an you can't keep out of the way 'thout you're watching all the time. Even on the train, much as a man can do to dodge those houses; makes his neck tired, too, an scares him considerable.
Redwood City an Santa Clara's nice. But the houses discontented, all the same. Always waltzing around. Aggravating. I see a man follow a house all around town; never caught up with it while I was there. Where would that locomotive been, if IⒶalteration in the MS hadn't held her down? In the Bay, likely. Or chasing cattle.
Sarrozay's healthy, but s-streetsⒶalteration in the MS roll inⒶalteration in the MS waves before you—made some of those newsperⒶemendation men awful sea-sick. I'm sleepyⒶalteration in the MS. I'm coming back on the c-cow-catcherⒶalteration in the MS to-night.
“The b—bawry stood on the burring d—dog,Whence all but him had f-flowed—f'floored—f'fled—
The f'flumes that lit the rattle's back—
Sh-shone round him o'er the shed—”Ⓔexplanatory note
I dono what's the marrer withat song. Drunk, too, praps. But if it's got no sense in it, I ain't going to put sense in it, an fix it up—not 'thout I'm paid for it. I never wrote the ridicklus thingⒶalteration in the MS. But I like it; don't you know, I always liked that song. I think it's pretty.
“The b-bawryⒶalteration in the MS stood on the burring d-drake”Ⓐalteration in the MSIt's no use—I can't recklect it. But it's beaurifulⒶalteration in the MS. (Hic!)
So long,
The Unreliable.Ⓐalteration in the MS
Whence all but he had fled;
The flame that lit the battle's wreck
Shone round him o'er the dead.
For Clemens' interest in this familiar poem, see the explanatory note on it for “Letter from Mark Twain” (no. 69.)
The manuscript of this sketch, probably written sometime between 15 and 22 August 1864, survives in the Jean Webster McKinney Family Papers, Vassar. It is copy-text. The piece is written in brown or black ink on six leaves, each of which measures 11⅝ by 7¼ inches. The first two leaves are unnumbered; the last four are numbered 2–5. The stationery is cream-colored laid paper with thirty-two blue horizontal rules, embossed in the upper left corner with a crown. The paper is identical with that used for two other sketches (also at Vassar), “The Only Reliable Account of the Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County” (no. 117) and “Angel's Camp Constable” (no. 118), both presumably written in late 1865. Someone, not the author, has written “Oldest Mark Twain signature in existence” on the first manuscript leaf.
The details of composition and revision evident in the manuscript are recorded below. It should be noted here, however, that the author first signed his nom de plume to the drunken letter (53.27), later canceled the signature and substituted “The Unreliable,” and finally added the prefatory letter (51.1–12), which he signed “Mark Twain.” The first leaf, which is unnumbered, was clearly added after the author had completed the original sketch in five leaves. There are no textual notes.