The Portland daily press., 1881-02-07
A Living Obelisk.
Exaggerated Reports About the Condi-
tion of Mark Twain.

A correspondent of the New York Sun from
Hartford writes as follows Under ordinary
circumstances it would no doubt be judicious
to withhold from the public the information
which I am about to communicate. But as
exaggerated accounts of Mr.. Mark Twain's
present condition are already in circulation
here in town, and as false reports are likely.
sooner or later to reach the ears Of the humor-
lists friends in other parts Of the country,
causing them greater solicitude than the true
facts warrant, it seems best to publish an ac-
curate and authentic statement of the case.
1t is we'll known that Mr.. Clemens is sub
ject to spells of profound melancholy, usual
ly eliminating in hallucinations Of the most
bizarre character. After one of these attacks
he was seized with a sudden and unaccoanta-
BILE but intense hatred for a bust of Calvin,
presented to Mrs. Clemens on her wedding
day by her uncle, a clergyman. Mark Twain
fancied that this little harmless image meant
to do him evil; and after heaping contumelv
on his foe by dsfguring the plaster face with
linked mustache and goatee, he at last put an
end to the imaginary feud and to the bust by
demolishing 1t with poker. At another time
Twain believed himself to be the real editor of
General Joe Hawley's paper, the Courant, and
his illusion led to some curious complications
that would have been amusing il they
had not been serious. Again, it Is said,
he tried to take up collection along the
middle aisle of Rev. Joe Twitchell's
church, at the moment fancying himself
deacon By similar illusions he has
been led at times to attempt an active part in
politics.
Although aware that ever since his speech at
the Grant reception Mr.. Clemens had been
suffering from melancholia, / did not know
until this morning what form the attack had
taken. met Mr.. j., a common friend of
mine and Clemens's in front of the postoHice
Have you been up to Twain's lately?" he
asked. mo-" 1 said. sis anything the mat
replied, with significant motion of bis right
forefnger.
So proceeded through the damp, chilly air
and slushy mud of Christmas morning to
Twan's bright red mansion and rang the door
bell. Was Mr.. Clemens at home? No, not
exactly. That was to say he wasn't In the
house; might find him yonder in the north
yard behind the barn. / turned up the bot
toms of my trousers and trudged through the
mud and snow to the place indicated by the
domestic There I discovered the humorist
standing on an empty dry goods box. His
arms were tightly pressed against his sides. He
wore a long ulster reaching to his ankles, and
on his head high peaked hat procured during
Hello, Marx" said l.; what are you doing
ON that box? Merry Christmasl"
He stif1y inclined his head. Didn't you
know" he demanded in slow, grave tones,
"that antedate the Christian era by many
centuries? What in thunder do you mean
by talking Christmas in my presence?"
"Come, come" said I, "no joking. Get
down off the box and go in where it's warm"
"If you refer to the pedestal" he replied, II
can't get down unless I'm lowered. And as to
no foy If "a Gffla affoct Of,o
lith, seasoned as l am seasoned
"You look like monolith," admitted, Sin
that ulster and that hat"
"You really think SOP" he eagerly asked.
His features relaxed to an expression some
what like complacency, and he sat down upon
the edge of the box and began to drum against
the side with his heels. 'You really believe
I'm the genuine, only original obelisk?"
before yesterday in New York. They've got
it as far as the trestle-work. You're humor-
ist not an obelisk."
Mark Twain Immediately assembled the box
again, while bis features once more assumed
their stony look. 'sYou have been imposed
upon," he remarked with great dignity. THE
thing in New York is bogus. 1t is practical
joke of Gorringe's. 1t Is Cardiff giant Of an
obelisk, composite plaster fraud concocted
on the voyage over, and palmed off on an IN
shipped to Hartford by freight number q,
New York, New Haven & Hartford railroad.
| You behold it at this identical moment"
1 took off my hat. That seemed to please
| him.
Excuse me-" he went on, 81 am . trife
touchy on the subject. Every monolith Is
| naturally sensitive when his authenticity is
called in question. Don't l appear stiff and
| hard enough to satisfy the most skeptical?"
"You look stiff and hard enough" said I,
ba. where are ySsf
"Just what expected" he returned with
| some show of feeling. "There don't appear
| to be any hieroglyphics perhaps you think.
! Singular, but I'd noticed the fact myself, and
| it's given me considerable concern. DIN
these hieroglyphics," he continued, getting
excited, 81 don't know what to make of 1t.
Sometimes think Gorringe took 'em and
plastered 'em on to his sham shaft. Then
think Marshall JEWELS stolen 'em for tele-
graphic cipher. Again, 1 surmise that they've
merely struck in and will blossom out again
as soon as I've got acclimated. But you'll ad-
NIT that it's putting respectable Egyptian
antiquity at disadvantage to steal his hero
glyphics. Any fool can come along and say,
You're no obelisk; where the d. are your hi
eroglyphics?'
turned sadly away from this example of
self-deception. I knew it was no use to reason
with him. Happily these attacks do not last,
as a rule, more than ten days or fortnight,
and the friends of the clever humorist have no
cause for anxiety on his account.