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[171] === From I Remember (1934) J. Henry Harper In one of his autobiographies the publisher J. Henry Harper reminisced at length about Twain during this period. one day he picked up the morning paper and saw that Jim Corbett, who had just won the championship of the United States in New Orleans from John L. Sullivan,1 was to give an exhibition bout with him in Madison Square Garden. He asked me if I thought I could get tickets? “Easily,” I said, and I forthwith secured front seats by the ring. But, as I had already cautioned him, it proved a very mild affair. After the bout was over, Clemens having expressed the desire to meet Corbett, I sent my card to his dressing-room, and we were invited to come in. Corbett was being rubbed down after his exercise. I introduced him to Mr. Clemens, and Corbett seemed much pleased to meet him. Clemens suggested that, in view of his recent success, he might be inclined to go abroad and try for the championship of the world. Corbett acknowledged that he had thought of doing so, whereupon Clemens remarked: “It would hardly be fair, Corbett, unless you first put the gloves on with me.” “That would not be quite just to me, Mr. Clemens,” protested Corbett, “because if you should get the better of me I would be down and out, while if I managed to defeat you, you would still be Mark Twain.” Clemens turned to me and said, “Let’s go!” . . . We arranged with Mr. Clemens for the publication of his Joan of Arc as a serial in the Magazine. He dropped into the office one day and asked if we had started it. I told him that we were just about to go to press. “That’s fortunate,” he remarked, “for I want to ask a favor of you; it is not to include my name as the author, in serial form, but to publish it anonymously .” I protested, on the ground that his name was a most valuable asset. “I know all that,” he agreed, “but I feel that it would be defrauding my twain in his own time [172] public to have my name associated with it in serial form; of course, when it comes to book publication, that will be different.” He went on to say that he felt he had made a grave mistake in not originally taking two noms de plume, one for his humorous writings, and one for his serious work. “As it is now,” he went on, “my audience always looks for a laugh in whatever I publish, and it’s a fact that in England, whenever I am called upon to make an after-dinner speech, the guests are all on the verge of laughter before I begin, afraid lest they might miss a salient bit of humor. I am getting old, and I find I become more and more inclined to write on serious subjects.” We left his name off the serial, although now, in re-reading the story with his name attached, it seems to me that in so many places it would hardly be possible to overlook his individual and masterly touch. Nevertheless, during its appearance in our Magazine it was attributed to several writers, no one hitting on Mr. Clemens as the author. I asked him how he came to write the story of the Maid of Orleans. He replied that one day, as he was walking along the street, a clipping blew up to his feet; he stooped to retrieve it and found that it was an interesting article on Joan. As he read it he decided to write his own story of her life. He searched musty old libraries for authoritative material, and pored over old French documents which, although a French scholar, he was obliged to have translated. His novel seems to me the most convincing tale of her spiritual life. The trial scene, where Joan stands up alone, fighting for her existence and confuting the best legal talent of the day, is a superb picture, and it is all based upon the facts gleaned in his painstaking research. Clemens loved to talk when he was in the humor and had a congenial audience, but he never would be paraded. I remember attending a stag dinner at Hopkinson Smith’s.2 Smith sat opposite Mark Twain in the center of the table length and tried to draw him out. Clemens was...

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