probably would not have been on the stage. He was fond of private
theatricals, and liked to play in them with his children and their
friends, in dramatizations of such stories of his as 'The Prince and the
Pauper;' but I never saw him in any of these scenes. When he read his
manuscript to you, it was with a thorough, however involuntary,
recognition of its dramatic qualities; he held that an actor added fully
half to the character the author created. With my own hurried and
half-hearted reading of passages which I wished to try on him from
unprinted chapters (say, out of 'The Undiscovered Country' or 'A Modern
Instance') he said frankly that my reading could spoil anything. He was
realistic, but he was essentially histrionic, and he was rightly so.
What we have strongly conceived we ought to make others strongly imagine,
and we ought to use every genuine art to that end.

XIV.

There came a time when the lecturing which had been the joy of his prime
became his loathing, loathing unutterable, and when he renounced it with
indescribable violence. Yet he was always hankering for those fleshpots
whose savor lingered on his palate and filled his nostrils after his
withdrawal from the platform. The Authors' Readings when they had won
their brief popularity abounded in suggestion for him. Reading from
one's book was not so bad as giving a lecture written for a lecture's
purpose, and he was willing at last to compromise. He had a magnificent
scheme for touring the country with Aldrich and Mr. G. W. Cable and
myself, in a private car, with a cook of our own, and every facility for
living on the fat of the land. We should read only four times a week, in
an entertainment that should not last more than an hour and a half. He
would be the impresario, and would guarantee us others at least
seventy-five dollars a day, and pay every expense of the enterprise,
which he provisionally called the Circus, himself. But Aldrich and I
were now no longer in those earlier thirties when we so cheerfully
imagined 'Memorable Murders' for subscription publication; we both
abhorred public appearances, and, at any rate, I was going to Europe for
a year. So the plan fell through except as regarded Mr. Cable, who, in
his way, was as fine a performer as Clemens, and could both read and sing
the matter of his books. On a far less stupendous scale they two made
the rounds of the great lecturing circuit together. But I believe a
famous lecture-manag