We shan't market any fewer than 5,000 machines in 15 years--a return of fifteen thousand dollars for one thousand.A royalty is better than stock, in one way--it must be paid, every six months, rain or shine; it is a debt, and must be paid before dividends are declared.By and by, when we become a stock company I shall buy these royalties back for stock if I can get them for anything like reasonable terms.
I have never borrowed a penny to use on the machine, and never sold a penny's worth of the property until the machine was entirely finished and proven by the severest tests to be what she started out to be--perfect, permanent, and occupying the position, as regards all kindred machines, which the City of Paris occupies as regards the canvas-backs of the mercantile marine.
It is my purpose to sell two hundred dollars of my royalties at the above price during the next two months and keep the other $300.
Mrs.Clemens begs Mrs.Goodman to come with you, and asks pardon for not writing the message herself--which would be a pathetically-welcome spectacle to me; for I have been her amanuensis for 8 months, now, since her eyes failed her.Yours as always MARK.
While this letter with its amazing contents is on its way to astonish Joe Goodman, we will consider one of quite a different, but equally characteristic sort.We may assume that Mark Twain's sister Pamela had been visiting him in Hartford and was now ****** a visit in Keokuk.
To Mrs.Moffett, in Keokuk:
HARTFORD, Oct 9, '89.
DEAR PAMELA,--An hour after you left I was suddenly struck with a realizing sense of the utter chuckle-headedness of that notion of mine:
to send your trunk after you.Land! it was idiotic.None but a lunatic would, separate himself from his baggage.
Well, I am soulfully glad the baggage fetcher saved me from consummating my insane inspiration.I met him on the street in the afternoon and paid him again.I shall pay him several times more, as opportunity offers.
I declined the invitation to banquet with the visiting South American Congress, in a polite note explaining that I had to go to New York today.
I conveyed the note privately to Patrick; he got the envelope soiled, and asked Livy to put on a clean one.That is why I am going to the banquet; also why I have disinvited the boys I thought I was going to punch billiards with, upstairs to-night.
Patrick is one of the injudiciousest people I ever struck.And I am the other.
Your Brother SAM.
The Yankee was now ready for publication, and advance sheets were already in the reviewers' hands.Just at this moment the Brazilian monarchy crumbled, and Clemens was moved to write Sylvester Baxter, of the Boston Herald, a letter which is of special interest in its prophecy of the new day, the dawn of which was even nearer than he suspected.
DEAR MR.BAXTER, Another throne has gone down, and I swim in oceans of satisfaction.I wish I might live fifty years longer; I believe I should see the thrones of Europe selling at auction for old iron.I believe Ishould really see the end of what is surely the grotesquest of all the swindles ever invented by man-monarchy.It is enough to make a graven image laugh, to see apparently rational people, away down here in this wholesome and merciless slaughter-day for shams, still mouthing empty reverence for those moss-backed frauds and scoundrelisms, hereditary kingship and so-called "nobility." It is enough to make the monarchs and nobles themselves laugh--and in private they do; there can be no question about that.I think there is only one funnier thing, and that is the spectacle of these bastard Americans--these Hamersleys and Huntingtons and such--offering cash, encumbered by themselves, for rotten carcases and stolen titles.When our great brethren the disenslaved Brazilians frame their Declaration of Independence, I hope they will insert this missing link: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all monarchs are usurpers, and descendants of usurpers; for the reason that no throne was ever set up in this world by the will, freely exercised, of the only body possessing the legitimate right to set it up--the numerical mass of the nation."You already have the advance sheets of my forthcoming book in your hands.
If you will turn to about the five hundredth page, you will find a state paper of my Connecticut Yankee in which he announces the dissolution of King Arthur's monarchy and proclaims the English Republic.Compare it with the state paper which announces the downfall of the Brazilian monarchy and proclaims the Republic of the United States of Brazil, and stand by to defend the Yankee from plagiarism.There is merely a resemblance of ideas, nothing more.The Yankee's proclamation was already in print a week ago.This is merely one of those odd coincidences which are always turning up.Come, protect the Yank from that cheapest and easiest of all charges--plagiarism.Otherwise, you see, he will have to protect himself by charging approximate and indefinite plagiarism upon the official servants of our majestic twin down yonder, and then there might be war, or some similar annoyance.
Have you noticed the rumor that the Portuguese throne is unsteady, and that the Portuguese slaves are getting restive? Also, that the head slave-driver of Europe, Alexander III, has so reduced his usual monthly order for chains that the Russian foundries are running on only half time now? Also that other rumor that English nobility acquired an added stench the other day--and had to ship it to India and the continent because there wasn't any more room for it at home? Things are working.
