Explanatory Notes
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Apparatus Notes
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CHAPTER 79
[begin page 537]

CHAPTER 79

I launched out as a lecturer, now, with great boldness. I had the field all to myself, for public lectures were almost an unknown commodity in the Pacific market. They are not so rare, now, I suppose. I took an old personal friend along to play agent for meexplanatory note, and for two or three weeks we roamed through Nevada and Californiaexplanatory note and had a very cheerful time of it. Two days before I lectured in Virginia City, two stage-coachesemendation were robbed within two miles of the town. The daring act was committed just at dawnexplanatory note, by six masked men, who sprang up alongside the coaches, presented revolvers at the heads of the drivers and passengers, and commanded a general dismount. Everybody climbed down, and the robbers took their watches and every cent they had. Then they took gunpowderemendation and blew up the express specie boxes and got their contents. The leader of the robbers was a small, quick-spoken man, and the fame of his vigorous manner and his intrepidity was in everybody’s mouth when we arrived.

The night after instructing Virginia, I walked over the desolate “divide” and down to Gold Hill, and lectured there. The lecture done, I stopped to talk with a friend, and did not start back till eleven. The “divide” was high, unoccupied ground, between the towns, the scene of twenty midnight murders and a hundred robberies. As we climbed up and stepped out on this eminence, the Gold Hill lights dropped out of sight at our backs, and the night closed down gloomy and dismal. A sharp wind swept the place, too, and chilled our perspiring bodies through.

“I tell you I don’t like this place at night,” said Mike the agent.

“Well, don’t speak so loud,” I said. “You needn’t remind anybody that we are here.”

Just then a dim figure approached me from the direction of Virginia—a man, evidently. He came straight at me, and I stepped [begin page 538] aside to let him pass; he stepped in the way and confronted me again. Then I saw that he had a mask on and was holding something in my face—I heard a click-click and recognized a revolver in dim outline. I pushed the barrel aside with my hand and said:

“Don’t!”

He ejaculated sharply:

“Your watch! Your money!”

I said:

“You can have them with pleasure—but take the pistol away from my face, please. It makes me shiver.”

“No remarks! Hand out your money!”

“Certainly—I—”

“Put up your hands! Don’t you go for a weapon! Put ’em up! Higher!”

I held them above my head.

A pause. Then:

“Are you going to hand out your money or not?”

I dropped my hands to my pockets and said:

“Certainlyemendation! I—”

“Put up your hands! Do you want your head blown off? Higher!”

I put them above my head again.

Another pause.

Are emendation you going to hand out your money or not? Ah-ah—again? Put up your hands! By George, you want the head shot off you awful bad!”

“Well, friend, I’m trying my best to please you. You tell me to give up my money, and when I reach for it you tell me to put up my hands. If you would only—. Oh, now—don’t! All six of you at me! That other man will get away while—.emendation Now please take some of those revolvers out of my face—do, if you please! Every time one of them clicks, my liver comes up into my throat! If you have a mother—any of you—or if any of you have ever had a mother—or a—grandmother—or a—”

“Cheese it! Will you give up your money, or have we got to—. There-there—none of that! Put up your hands!

“Gentlemen—I know you are gentlemen by your—”

“Silence! If you want to be facetious, young man, there are times and places more fitting. This is a serious business.”

[begin page 539] “You prick the marrow of my opinion. The funerals I have attended in my time were comedies compared to it. Now I think—”

“Curse your palaver! Your money!—your money!—your money! Hold!—put up your hands!”

“Gentlemen, listen to reason. You see how I am situated—now don’t put those pistols so close—I smell the powder. You see how I am situated. If I had four hands—so that I could hold up two and—”

a predicament.

“Throttle him! Gag him! Kill him!”

“Gentlemen, don’t! Nobody’s watching the other fellow. Why don’t some of you—. Ouch! Take it away, please! Gentlemen, you see that I’ve got to hold up my hands; and so I can’t take out my money—but if you’ll be so kind as to take it out for me, I will do as much for you some—”

“Search him Beauregard—and stop his jaw with a bullet, quick, if he wags it again. Help Beauregard, Stonewall.”

Then three of them, with the small, spry leader, adjourned to Mike and fell to searching him. I was so excited that my lawless fancy tortured me to ask my two men all manner of facetious questions about their rebel brother-generals of the South, but, considering the order they had received, it was but common prudence to keep still. When everything had been taken from me,—watch, [begin page 540] money, and a multitude of trifles of small value,—I supposed I was free, and forthwith put my cold hands into my empty pockets and began an inoffensive jig to warm my feet and stir up some latent courage—but instantly all pistols were at my head, and the order came again:

“Be still! Put up your hands! And keep them up!”

They stood Mike up alongside of me, with strict orders to keep his hands above his head, too, and then the chief highwayman said:

“Beauregard, hide behind that boulder; Phil Sheridan, you hide behind that other one; Stonewall Jackson, put yourself behind that sage-bush there. Keep your pistols bearing on these fellows, and if they take down their hands within ten minutes, or move a single peg, let them have it!”

Then three disappeared in the gloom toward the several ambushes, and the other three disappeared down the road toward Virginia.

It was depressingly still, and miserably cold. Now this whole thing was a practical joke, and the robbers were personal friends of ours in disguiseexplanatory note, and twenty more lay hidden within ten feet of us during the whole operation, listening. Mike knew all this, and was in the joke, but I suspected nothing of it. To me it was most uncomfortably genuine.

When we had stood there in the middle of the road five minutes, like a couple of idiots, with our hands aloft, freezing to death by inches, Mike’s interest in the joke began to wane. He said:

“The time’s up, now, ain’temendation it?”

“No, you keep still. Do you want to take any chances with those bloody savages?”

Presently Mike said:

Now the time’s up, anyway. I’m freezing.”

“Well freeze. Better freeze than carry your brains home in a basket. Maybe the time is up, but how do we know?—got no watch to tell by. I mean to give them good measure. I calculate to stand here fifteen minutes or die. Don’t you move.”

So, without knowing it, I was making one joker very sick of his contract. When we took our arms down at last, they were aching with cold and fatigue, and when we went sneaking off, the dread I was in that the time might not yet be up and that we would feel [begin page 541] bullets in a moment, was not sufficient to draw all my attention from the misery that racked my stiffened body.

The joke of these highwayman friends of ours was mainly a joke upon themselves; for they had waited for me on the cold hill-top two full hours before I came, and there was very little fun in that; they were so chilled that it took them a couple of weeks to get warm again. Moreover, I never had a thought that they would kill me to get money which it was so perfectly easy to get without any such folly, and so they did not really frighten me bad enough to make their enjoyment worth the trouble they had taken. I was only afraid that their weapons would go off accidentally. Their very numbers inspired me with confidence that no blood would be intentionally spilled. They were not smart; they ought to have sent only one highwayman, with a double-barreled shotgunemendation, if they desired to see the author of this volume climb a tree.

best part of the joke.

However, I suppose that in the long run I got the largest share of the joke at last; and in a shape not foreseen by the highwaymen; for the chilly exposure on the “divide” while I was in a perspiration gave me a cold which developed itself into a troublesome disease [begin page 542] and kept my hands idle some three months, besides costing me quite a sum in doctor’s bills. Since then I play no practical jokes on people and generally lose my temper when one is played upon me.

When I returned to San Franciscoexplanatory note I projected a pleasure journey to Japan and thence westward around the worldexplanatory note; but a desire to see home again changed my mind, and I took a berth in the steamship, bade good-bye to the friendliest land and livest, heartiestemendation community on our continent, and came by the way of the Isthmus to New Yorkexplanatory note—a trip that was not much of a pic-nic excursion, for the cholera broke out among us on the passage and we buried two or three bodies at sea every dayexplanatory note. I found home a dreary placeexplanatory note after my long absence; for half the children I had known were now wearing whiskers or waterfalls, and few of the grown people I had been acquainted with remained at their hearthstones prosperous and happy—some of them had wandered to other scenes, some were in jail, and the rest had been hanged. These changes touched me deeply, and I went away and joined the famous Quaker City European Excursionexplanatory note and carried my tears to foreign lands.

Thus, after seven years of vicissitudesexplanatory note, ended a “pleasure trip” to the silver mines of Nevada which had originally been intended to occupy only three months. However, I usually miss my calculations further than that.


moral.

If the reader thinks he is done, now, and that this book has no moral to it, he is in error. The moral of it is this: If you are of any account, stay at home and make your way by faithful diligence; but if you are “no account,” go away from home, and then you will have to work, whether you want to or not. Thus you become a blessing to your friends by ceasing to be a nuisance to them—if the people you go among suffer by the operation.

[begin page 543]
The End.
[begin page 544]
Editorial Emendations CHAPTER 79
  stage-coaches (C)  ●  stage-  |  coaches (A) 
  gunpowder (C)  ●  gun-  |  powder (A) 
  “Certainly (C)  ●  Certainly (A) 
  “Are  (C)  ●  Are  (A) 
  while—. (C)  ●  while.— (A) 
  ain’t (C)  ●  aint (A) 
  double-barreled shotgun (C)  ●  double-barrelled shot gun (A) 
  heartiest (Ac Ad Ae Af Ag)  ●  hearties (Aa Ab) 
Explanatory Notes CHAPTER 79
 I took an old personal friend along to play agent for me] The old friend was Denis E. McCarthy (1840–85), an Australian of Irish descent who went to San Francisco with his parents in 1850 and began to work in a printing shop. When Clemens joined the staff of the Virginia City Territorial Enterprise in 1862 McCarthy was one of its proprietors (see the note at 274.25–26). After selling his share in the Enterprise to Joseph Goodman in September 1865, McCarthy moved to San Francisco, expecting to augment his fortune through mining-stock investments. He also launched a short-lived weekly paper, The Irish People. Unfortunately, however, McCarthy “was not a success as a speculator, for within four months he had lost his last dollar,” and was apparently struggling financially when Clemens needed an agent in the fall of 1866. After the lecture tour McCarthy “returned to Virginia City and [begin page 744] engaged as foreman in what but a few months before had been his own job office” (Angel, 326). He continued at the Enterprise until 1869, eventually recouping his losses in the Big Bonanza boom of 1873–74 ( L1 , 361–62; “Death of D. E. McCarthy,” Virginia City Evening Chronicle, 17 Dec 85, 2; Lingenfelter and Gash, 254).
 for two or three weeks we roamed through Nevada and California] The lecture tour lasted one month. In California, Clemens spoke in Sacramento (11 October), Marysville (15 October), Grass Valley (20 October), Nevada City (23 October), Red Dog (24 October), and You Bet (25 October); then, moving on to Nevada, in Virginia City (31 October), Carson City (3 November), Washoe City (7 November), Dayton (8 November), Silver City (9 November), and Gold Hill (10 November). According to the Enterprise, Clemens spent a brief time “rusticating at Lake Tahoe” between his Carson City and Washoe City engagements. According to Thomas Fitch, however, Clemens was his guest at Washoe City during the interim (“Mark Twain,” Virginia City Territorial Enterprise, 6 Nov 66, 3; Fitch, 55–56).
 Two days before I lectured in Virginia City, two stage-coaches were robbed . . . just at dawn] Clemens lectured in Virginia City on the evening of 31 October. Between 1:00 and 2:00 a.m. on that same day two stages of the Pioneer Line, traveling together from California, were waylaid and robbed near the summit of the Geiger grade, three or four miles north of the town. The masked highwaymen—whose leader was gentlemanly and well spoken—blew open a Wells, Fargo safe containing $5,150 in gold coin and then robbed the male passengers, treating them politely and addressing some of them by name (Virginia City Territorial Enterprise: “Highway Robbery—Is There No Remedy for It?” 1 Nov 66, 2; “Daring Stage Robbery,” 1 Nov 66, 3; “The Brigands of the Geiger,” 4 Nov 66, 3).
 this whole thing was a practical joke, and the robbers were personal friends of ours in disguise] This hoax was actually perpetrated on the night of 10 November after Mark Twain’s Gold Hill lecture, ten days after his appearance in Virginia City (not the “night after instructing Virginia,” as he claims at 537.17). That same night, still unaware of the joke, Clemens wrote a “Card to the Highwaymen,” which was printed in the Enterprise the following day. There he gave a briefer and less good-humored account of the hold-up and asked the attackers to return his watch, a cherished memento of his tenure as governor of the Third House in the winter of 1863–64 (SLC 1866oo; see the note at 297.22). Of the many other accounts of the hoax, perhaps the most authoritative is Steve Gillis’s, contained in a 1907 letter to Albert Bigelow Paine. Gillis claimed that he and McCarthy staged the joke to provide Clemens with a financial incentive, as well as a fresh subject, for a second Virginia City lecture, inasmuch as he had refused to “repeat [begin page 745] himself in the same town” (Chester L. Davis 1956a, 3). They enlisted some of Clemens’s Virginia City acquaintances to join them in impersonating highwaymen, among them police officer George W. Birdsall, Leslie F. Blackburn, Pat Holland, and Jimmy Eddington, who acted as the captain of the band. Clemens, however, was furious when he learned of the prank from Judge Alexander W. (“Sandy”) Baldwin. He left Virginia City for San Francisco on 12 November, unmollified by the return of his stolen property and the conspirators’ explanation. Paine’s version of the story agrees substantially with Gillis’s; another brief but straightforward sketch of the affair may be found in the journals of Alfred Doten, long associated with the Gold Hill Evening News. Considerably less factual are the recollections of William Gillis (who gives a different roster of participants) and the ill-natured reminiscences of Senator William M. Stewart (see the notes at 288.16–17 and 288.27–28; “Departures,” Virginia City Territorial Enterprise, 13 Nov 66, 3; MTB , 1:297–302; Doten, 2:900–904 passim; Gillis, 108–16; William M. Stewart, 221–22).
 When I returned to San Francisco] Clemens, apparently not incapacitated by his “troublesome disease” (541.19), delivered a revamped version of his Sandwich Islands lecture in San Francisco on 16 November, concluding it with “the only true and reliable history of the late REVOLTING HIGHWAY ROBBERY, Perpetrated upon the Lecturer, at dead of night, between the cities of Gold Hill and Virginia” (advertisement, San Francisco Times, 16 Nov 66, 4). He went on to lecture in San Jose (21 November), Petaluma (26 November), and Oakland (27 November). Before he left for the East, he gave one final performance in San Francisco, on 10 December ( L1 , 367 n. 4).
 I projected a pleasure journey to Japan and thence westward around the world] In Honolulu in June 1866 Anson Burlingame, the American minister to China, urged Clemens to visit him in Peking in 1867. “I expect to do all this,” Clemens wrote to his family at the time, “but I expect to go to the States first—& from China to the Paris World’s Fair” ( L1 , 347–48). Clemens’s intention of visiting the Orient was still alive in September 1866, when he mentioned the proposed trip in a letter to the Honolulu Hawaiian Herald. Soon thereafter, on 20 October, the Honolulu Pacific Commercial Advertiser printed a “Letter from San Francisco” that reported, “Mark Twain will probably revisit your shores en route for Japan and China, where he proposes to spend a few years traveling and writing for the Eastern press” (Ajax, 1; SLC 1866mm). Another item in the same issue added, “Verbally we hear that he is to write for the San Francisco Bulletin” (“An interesting letter . . .,” Honolulu Pacific Commercial Advertiser, 20 Oct 66, 3).
 but a desire to see home again changed my mind, and I took a berth . . . to New York] By 4 December Clemens had decided against [begin page 746] traveling directly to the Orient: “The China Mail Steamer is getting ready & everybody says I am throwing away a fortune in not going in her. I firmly believe it myself. [¶] I sail for the States in the Opposition steamer of the 15th inst, positively and without reserve” ( L1 , 369). Having accepted an assignment as a traveling correspondent for the San Francisco Alta California, Mark Twain was about to embark on the first leg of a journey that would eventually take him, according to the Alta, to “the ‘Universal Exposition’ at Paris, through Italy, the Mediterranean, India, China, Japan, and back to San Francisco by the China Mail Steamship line.” He bid formal farewell to San Francisco and California in the concluding remarks of his 10 December lecture at Congress Hall in San Francisco. Speaking in his most exalted oratorical style, he predicted “the dawn of a radiant future” for the state: “A splendid prosperity shall descend like a glory upon the whole land!” (“ ‘Mark Twain’s’ Farewell,” San Francisco Alta California, 15 Dec 66, 2, in Benson, 211–13). Clemens sailed on the steamer America, captained by Edgar Wakeman, on 15 December and arrived at San Juan del Sur, Nicaragua, on 28 December. After crossing the isthmus to San Juan del Norte (Greytown), he embarked on the steamer San Francisco on 1 January 1867, arriving at New York on 12 January ( N&J1 , 238–40; L2 , 1).
 the cholera broke out among us . . . and we buried two or three bodies at sea every day] Soon after the San Francisco sailed, cholera broke out among the steerage passengers. Before the vessel anchored at New York seven passengers had died from cholera and other causes. Clemens’s notebook for the period and his correspondence for the Alta record the details of the harrowing voyage (see N&J1 , 238–99, and MTTB , 11–81).
 I found home a dreary place] Clemens left New York on 3 March 1867 to visit his family in St. Louis. There is little in his Alta correspondence to suggest that his St. Louis stay was “dreary”: he told his readers that he “found it and left it the same happy, cheerful, contented old town” (SLC 1867e). A year and a half later, however, he would admit to Mary Mason Fairbanks: “There is something in my deep hatred of St. Louis that will hardly let me appear cheery even at my mother’s own fireside. Nobody knows what a ghastly infliction it is on me to visit St. Louis. I am afraid I do not always disguise it, either” ( L2 , 252). During his 1867 visit, Clemens lectured several times—in St. Louis and Hannibal (Missouri), in Keokuk (Iowa), and in Quincy (Illinois)—during March and the first half of April before returning to New York ( L2 , 19 n. 2, 23 n. 1).
 I went away and joined the famous Quaker City European Excursion] This pleasure excursion to Europe and the Holy Land was organized by members of Henry Ward Beecher’s Plymouth Church in Brooklyn. The travelers embarked from New York on 8 June 1867 for a [begin page 747] five-month cruise aboard the steamer Quaker City. Clemens’s partici pation was sponsored by the Alta, which paid his $1,250 fare plus $500 for expenses, as an advance against fifty letters he was expected to write during the voyage. He also arranged to correspond for the New York Tribune and (without signature) the New York Herald. The excursion ultimately became the subject of his first major book, The Innocents Abroad (SLC 1869a; L2 , 14–15, 23–24 n. 1, 55 n. 3, 62).
 after seven years of vicissitudes] See the note at 2.24–28.