A few months ago I was nominated for Governor of the great state of New York, to run against Mr. John T. Smith and Mr. Blank J. Blank on an independent ticket. I somehow felt that I had one prominent advantage over these gentlemen, and that was--good character. It was easy to see by the newspapers that if ever they had known what it was to bear a good name, that time had gone by. It was plain that in these latter years they had become familiar with all manner of
shameful1 crimes. But at the very moment that I was
exalting2 my advantage and joying in it in secret, there was a muddy undercurrent of
discomfort3 "riling" the deeps of my happiness, and that was--the having to hear my name bandied about in familiar connection with those of such people. I grew more and more disturbed. Finally I wrote my grandmother about it. Her answer came quick and sharp. She said:
You have never done one single thing in all your life to be ashamed of--not one. Look at the newspapers--look at them and comprehend what sort of characters Messrs. Smith and Blank are, and then see if you are willing to lower yourself to their level and enter a public
canvass4 with them.
It was my very thought! I did not sleep a single moment that night. But, after all, I could not
recede5.
I was
fully6 committed, and must go on with the fight. As I was looking listlessly over the papers at breakfast I came across this paragraph, and I may truly say I never was so confounded before.
PERJURY7.--Perhaps, now that Mr. Mark Twain is before the people as a candidate for Governor, he will
condescend8 to explain how he came to be convicted of perjury by thirty-four witnesses in Wakawak, Cochin China, in 1863, the intent of which perjury being to rob a poor native widow and her helpless family of a
meager9 plantain-patch, their only stay and support in their
bereavement10 and desolation. Mr. Twain owes it to himself, as well as to the great people whose
suffrages11 he asks, to clear this matter up. Will he do it?
I thought I should burst with
amazement12! Such a cruel, heartless charge! I never had seen Cochin China! I never had heard of Wakawak! I didn't know a plantain-patch from a kangaroo! I did not know what to do. I was crazed and helpless. I let the day slip away without doing anything at all. The next morning the same paper had this--nothing more:
SIGNIFICANT.--Mr. Twain, it will be observed, is suggestively silent about the Cochin China perjury.
[Mem.--During the rest of the campaign this paper never referred to me in any other way than as "the
infamous13 perjurer14 Twain."]
Next came the Gazette, with this:
WANTED TO KNOW.--Will the new candidate for Governor
deign15 to explain to certain of his fellow-citizens (who are suffering to vote for him!) the little circumstance of his cabin-mates in Montana losing small valuables from time to time, until at last, these things having been invariably found on Mr. Twain's person or in his "trunk" (newspaper he rolled his traps in), they felt compelled to give him a friendly admonition for his own good, and so tarred and feathered him, and rode him on a rail; and then advised him to leave a permanent vacuum in the place he usually occupied in the camp. Will he do this?
[After this, this journal customarily
spoke18 of me as, "Twain, the Montana Thief."]
I got to picking up papers apprehensively--much as one would lift a desired blanket which he had some idea might have a rattlesnake under it. One day this met my eye:
THE LIE NAILED.--By the sworn
affidavits19 of Michael O'Flanagan, Esq., of the Five Points, and Mr. Snub Rafferty and Mr. Catty Mulligan, of Water Street, it is established that Mr. Mark Twain's
vile20 statement that the
lamented21 grandfather of our noble standard- bearer, Blank J. Blank, was hanged for highway robbery, is a
brutal22 and
gratuitous23 LIE, without a shadow of foundation in fact. It is disheartening to
virtuous24 men to see such shameful means resorted to to achieve political success as the attacking of the dead in their graves, and
defiling25 their honored names with
slander26. When we think of the
anguish27 this
miserable28 falsehood must cause the innocent relatives and friends of the deceased, we are almost driven to
incite29 an
outraged30 and insulted public to summary and unlawful
vengeance31 upon the
traducer32. But no! let us leave him to the agony of a lacerated conscience (though if passion should get the better of the public, and in its blind fury they should do the traducer bodily injury, it is but too obvious that no jury could convict and no court punish the perpetrators of the deed).#p#分页标题#e#
The ingenious closing sentence had the effect of moving me out of bed with
despatch33 that night, and out at the back door also, while the "outraged and insulted public" surged in the front way, breaking furniture and windows in their righteous indignation as they came, and taking off such property as they could carry when they went. And yet I can lay my hand upon the Book and say that I never
slandered34 Mr. Blank's grandfather. More: I had never even heard of him or mentioned him up to that day and date.
[I will state, in passing, that the journal above quoted from always referred to me
afterward35 as "Twain, the Body-Snatcher."]
The next newspaper article that attracted my attention was the following:
A SWEET CANDIDATE.--Mr. Mark Twain, who was to make such a
blighting36 speech at the mass-meeting of the Independents last night, didn't come to time! A telegram from his physician stated that he had been knocked down by a
runaway37 team, and his leg broken in two places--sufferer lying in great agony, and so
forth38, and so forth, and a lot more bosh of the same sort. And the Independents tried hard to swallow the wretched
subterfuge39, and pretend that they did not know what was the real reason of the absence of the abandoned creature whom they denominate their standard-bearer. A certain man was seen to reel into Mr. Twain's hotel last night in a state of beastly
intoxication40. It is the
imperative41 duty of the Independents to prove that this besotted
brute42 was not Mark Twain himself. We have them at last! This is a case that admits of no shirking. The voice of the people demands in thunder tones, "WHO WAS THAT MAN?"
It was incredible, absolutely incredible, for a moment, that it was really my name that was coupled with this disgraceful suspicion. Three long years had passed over my head since I had tasted ale, beer, wine or liquor or any kind.
[It shows what effect the times were having on me when I say that I saw myself, confidently
dubbed43 "Mr.
Delirium44 Tremens Twain" in the next issue of that journal without a pang--notwithstanding I knew that with
monotonous45 fidelity46 the paper would go on calling me so to the very end.]
By this time
anonymous47 letters were getting to be an important part of my mail matter. This form was common
How about that old woman you kiked of your
premises48 which was beging. POL.
PRY49.
And this:
There is things which you Have done which is unbeknowens to anybody but me. You better
trot50 out a few dots, to yours truly, or you'll hear through the papers from HANDY ANDY.
This is about the idea. I could continue them till the reader was
surfeited51, if desirable.
[In this way I acquired two additional names: "Twain the
Filthy56 Corruptionist" and "Twain the
Loathsome57 Embracer."]
By this time there had grown to be such a clamor for an "answer" to all the dreadful charges that were laid to me that the editors and leaders of my party said it would be political ruin for me to remain silent any longer. As if to make their appeal the more imperative, the following appeared in one of the papers the very next day:
BEHOLD58 THE MAN!--The independent candidate still maintains silence. Because he dare not speak. Every
accusation59 against him has been amply proved, and they have been indorsed and reindorsed by his own
eloquent60 silence, till at this day he stands forever convicted. Look upon your candidate, Independents! Look upon the Infamous Perjurer! the Montana Thief! the Body-Snatcher!
Contemplate61 your
incarnate62 Delirium Tremens! your Filthy Corruptionist! your Loathsome Embracer! Gaze upon him--ponder him well--and then say if you can give your honest votes to a creature who has earned this
dismal63 array of titles by his
hideous64 crimes, and dares not open his mouth in denial of any one of them!
There was no possible way of getting out of it, and so, in deep
humiliation65, I set about preparing to "answer" a mass of baseless charges and mean and wicked falsehoods. But I never finished the task, for the very next morning a paper came out with a new horror, a fresh
malignity66, and seriously charged me with burning a lunatic
asylum67 with all its
inmates68, because it
obstructed69 the view from my house. This threw me into a sort of panic. Then came the charge of poisoning my uncle to get his property, with an imperative demand that the grave should be opened. This drove me to the
verge70 of
distraction71. On top of this I was accused of employing toothless and
incompetent72 old relatives to prepare the food for the foundling' hospital when I
warden73. I was wavering--wavering. And at last, as a due and fitting
climax74 to the shameless
persecution75 that party
rancor76 had
inflicted77 upon me, nine little
toddling78 children, of all shades of color and degrees of
raggedness79, were taught to rush onto the platform at a public meeting, and clasp me around the legs and call me PA!#p#分页标题#e#
I gave it up. I hauled down my colors and surrendered. I was not equal to the requirements of a Gubernatorial campaign in the state of New York, and so I sent in my
withdrawal80 from the candidacy, and in bitterness of spirit signed it, "Truly yours, once a decent man, but now
"MARK TWAIN, LP., M.T., B.S., D.T., F.C., and L.E."