ABSTRACT
EnglishmenforfortyyearsandmorehavelovedMarkTwainwith anardorverylittlebelowthatofhisowncountrymen.Eversincethe 'JumpingFrog'madeitsappearancehehasbeentothemthesupreme exampleofhumorinitsmostpiquant,mostAmericanform,andthe unrivalledguardian,sinceCharlesDickensdied,ofthesourcesof deep,human,elementallaughter.Itispossible,indeed,thatEnglishmen haveprofitedbyjusttheshadeofmentaldifferencethatseparatesthe twopeoplestoextractfromMarkTwain'shumoramoreexquisite relishthaneventheAmericansthemselves,forwhomitsflavorcan scarcelyhavethecharmofanexotic.ThetusslewiththeGerman language,theduelintheTrampAbroad,thetrialsofanurbaneditor ofanagriculturalpaper,theforty-seven-milesearchinthedarkfor thelostbedroomslipper,theascentoftheRiffelbergwiththemulethat atethenitroglycerine;theseandahundredotherinimitablepassages thatleaptothemindwhenMarkTwain'snameisbreathedhavewon inEnglandanappreciationaskeenanddiffusedasinAmerica.Tom SawyerandHuckFinnareasmuchthefriendsofEnglishasofAmeri-
can boyhood. Humor has as many styles and fashions as dress, and it would be almost an impertinence to predict for Mark Twain the immortality of a Cervantes; but this much may at least be said, that forty shifting and convulsive years instead of impairing have enhanced Mark Twain's popularity with his English readers. There is that in his writings which draws one as much to the man as to the author, and it is not merely for his books, but for the spirit and character revealed in them and for all they have heard of his life and its trials and triumphs that Englishmen feel in Mark Twain a tender and semiproprietary pride. We have long been used to looking upon him as the national author of America. In England we have had for a generation or more no national author. Tennyson, perhaps, came nearer to being one than any other writer, but even Tennyson never commanded the devotion that the Scotch showered on Sir Walter, the English of fifty years ago on Dickens and the Americans on Mark Twain. And having no national author of our own, we have perforce claimed Mark Twain as the representative 'racial' author of his day and have felt for him only a little less admiration, gratitude and affection than his own countrymen. To writers alone is it given to win and hold a sentiment of this quality-to writers and occasionally, by the oddness of the human mind, to generals. The 'popularity' of statesmen is a poor and flickering light by the side of this full flame of personal affection. It has gone out to Mark Twain from all the English-speaking peoples not only for what he has written, for the clean, irresistible extravagance of his humor and his unfailing command of the primal feelings, for his tenderness, his jollity and his power to read the heart ofboy and man and woman; not only for the tragedies and affiictions of his life so unconquerably borne; not only for his brave and fiery dashes against tyranny, humbug and corruption at home and abroad, but also because, beyond any other man of his time, he incarnated and universalized the American spirit. His humor, while wholly and distinctively American, has the large human qualities, the sense of the fundamental contrasts of life, that overflows all national boundaries. His freshness of heart and emotion beneath a show of merry cynicism, his indomitable common sense, his spiritual hardiness, his touch of misanthropy, his idealizing faith in women and democracy-all that is American too; but it is Americanism carried by genius to a point where it appeals to the whole ofhumanity. More than any man of our generation has Mark Twain made the world laugh. But his humor has always been on the side of the angels. He has jibed at much, but never at anything that made for nobility
NodoubttherearcsomeEnglishmen,vhostillregardhimasamere farceur,whofindhis'irreverence'aninsuperablestumbling-blockand v.·hocatmotreconcilethemselvestoafamousmanoflettersbeingso preciselytheoppositeofaliteraryman.'Culture,'literarypriggishness andtheacademictypeofcriticismwillalwaysfindithardtoaccept MarkTwainathistruevalue.OneEnglishcriticsomeyearsago summedhimup,orthoughthedid,inthevmrd'barbarian,'declaring thattheessenceofhistalentwasmerelythespiritofvandalism;and thereproachofnotbeingan'artist'will,nodoubt,longbehurled athimbythemenwhoarcallsensitivenessandlittlesense.Butthe averagereaderofMarkTwain'sworks,whichismuchthesameas sayingtheaveragemanorwomanthroughouttheEnglish-speaking world,iswiserthanthemostacuteofcriticsintrustinghisown instinctsanddiscardingthefoot-ruleofformalism.Hecamestarkinto theworldofletters;thereisnoprecedentforhim;andhebrought withhimthespiritoftheMississippiValleyasitwasfiftyorsixty yearsago,aspiritscarcelycongenialtothepedantsof:estheticism.'It isbecomingdifficultalready,'wroteanEnglishmanthedayafterMark Twain'sdeath, toconceivetheconditionsamidwhichhegrewupintheMississippiValleyafrontiersettlementwherelifewashard,happy-go-luckyandself-reliant,and themenandwomenwholiveditwerefraternalandkindly;whereanabsolute irreverenceofspeechandmannerwenthandinhandwitharealPuritanism ofoutlookandconduct;wheretheatmospherewaschargedwithcourage, arecklesssurplusageofcheerfulness,spontaneousvigor,comradeship,profanity,homespunidealism,andatotalinnocenceoftheconventions,thearts, thestandardsandtheboredomofcivilization.Thatwastheschoolinwhich MarkTwaingraduated.Itformedhiminthedecisiveyearswhenthelinesof characterareunalterablylaiddown,andherepaiditswholesomedisciplineby p(!)rtrayingitwiththeintimacyofaloverandthetouchofareporterofgenim. Asjourneymanprinter,prospector,miner,pilot,soldierandjournalisthe sawitfromallsides.Itsspiritbecamehisspirit.
