DRESS REFORM AND COPYRIGHT

Samuel Clemens was seventy one when he gave this speech, although it is more

response to some questions that this first great humorous keynote speaker was

asked. This is not his best material, but any material from this very funny, inventive,

humorous keynote speaker is worth reading.

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          When the present copyright law was under discussion, Mr.

          Clemens appeared before the committee.  He had sent Speaker

          Cannon the following letter:

          "DEAR UNCLE JOSEPH,--Please get me the thanks of Congress, not

          next week but right away.  It is very necessary.  Do accomplish

          this for your affectionate old friend right away--by,

          persuasion if you can, by violence if you must, for it is

          imperatively necessary that I get on the floor of the House for

          two or three hours and talk to the members, man by man, in

          behalf of support; encouragement, and protection of one of the

          nation's most valuable assets and industries--its literature.

          I have arguments with me--also a barrel with liquid in it.

          "Give me a chance.  Get me the thanks of Congress.  Don't wait

          for others--there isn't time; furnish them to me yourself and

          let Congress ratify later.  I have stayed away and let Congress

          alone for seventy-one years and am entitled to the thanks.

          Congress knows this perfectly well, and I have long felt hurt

          that this quite proper and earned expression of gratitude has

          been merely felt by the House and never publicly uttered.

          "Send me an order on the sergeant-at-arms quick.  When shall I

          come?

                                   "With love and a benediction,

                                                       "MARK TWAIN."

          While waiting to appear before the committee, Mr. Clemens

          talked to the reporters:

Why don't you ask why I am wearing such apparently unseasonable clothes?

I'll tell you.  I have found that when a man reaches the advanced age of

seventy-one years, as I have, the continual sight of dark clothing is

likely to have a depressing effect upon him.  Light-colored clothing is

more pleasing to the eye and enlivens the spirit.  Now, of course, I

cannot compel every one to wear such clothing just for my especial

benefit, so I do the next best thing and wear it myself.

Of course, before a man reaches my years the fear of criticism might

prevent him from indulging his fancy.  I am not afraid of that.  I am

decidedly for pleasing color combinations in dress.  I like to see the

women's clothes, say, at the opera.  What can be more depressing than the

sombre black which custom requires men to wear upon state occasions?

A group of men in evening clothes looks like a flock of crows, and is

just about as inspiring.

After all, what is the purpose of clothing?  Are not clothes intended

primarily to preserve dignity and also to afford comfort to their wearer?

Now I know of nothing more uncomfortable than the present-day clothes of

men.  The finest clothing made is a person's own skin, but, of course,

society demands something more than this.

The best-dressed man I have ever seen, however, was a native of the

Sandwich Islands who attracted my attention thirty years ago.  Now, when

that man wanted to don especial dress to honor a public occasion or a

holiday, why, he occasionally put on a pair of spectacles.  Otherwise the

clothing with which God had provided him sufficed.

Of course, I have ideas of dress reform.  For one thing, why not adopt

some of the women's styles?  Goodness knows, they adopt enough of ours.

Take the peek-a-boo waist, for instance.  It has the obvious advantages

of being cool and comfortable, and in addition it is almost always made

up in pleasing colors which cheer and do not depress.

It is true that I dressed the Connecticut Yankee at King Arthur's Court

in a plug-hat, but, let's see, that was twenty-five years ago.  Then no

man was considered fully dressed until he donned a plug-hat.  Nowadays I

think that no man is dressed until he leaves it home.  Why, when I left

home yesterday they trotted out a plug-hat for me to wear.

"You must wear it," they told me; "why, just think of going to Washington

without a plug-hat!"  But I said no; I would wear a derby or nothing.

Why, I believe I could walk along the streets of New York--I never do

--but still I think I could--and I should never see a well-dressed man

wearing a plug-hat.  If I did I should suspect him of something.  I don't

know just what, but I would suspect him.

Why, when I got up on the second story of that Pennsylvania ferry-boat

coming down here yesterday I saw Howells coming along.  He was the only

man on the boat with a plug-hat, and I tell you he felt ashamed of

himself.  He said he had been persuaded to wear it against his better

sense.  But just think of a man nearly seventy years old who has not a

mind of his own on such matters!

"Are you doing any work now?" the youngest and most serious reporter

asked.

Work?  I retired from work on my seventieth birthday.  Since then I have

been putting in merely twenty-six hours a day dictating my autobiography,

which, as John Phoenix said in regard to his autograph, may be relied

upon as authentic, as it is written exclusively by me.  But it is not to

be published in full until I am thoroughly dead.  I have made it as

caustic, fiendish, and devilish as possible.  It will fill many volumes,

and I shall continue writing it until the time comes for me to join the

angels.  It is going to be a terrible autobiography.  It will make the

hair of some folks curl.  But it cannot be published until I am dead, and

the persons mentioned in it and their children and grandchildren are

dead.  It is something awful!

"Can you tell us the names of some of the notables that are here to see

you off?"

I don't know.  I am so shy.  My shyness takes a peculiar phase.  I never

look a person in the face.  The reason is that I am afraid they may know

me and that I may not know them, which makes it very embarrassing for

both of us.  I always wait for the other person to speak.  I know lots of

people, but I don't know who they are.  It is all a matter of ability to

observe things.  I never observe anything now.  I gave up the habit years

ago.  You should keep a habit up if you want to become proficient in it.

For instance, I was a pilot once, but I gave it up, and I do not believe

the captain of the Minneapolis would let me navigate his ship to London.

Still, if I think that he is not on the job I may go up on the bridge and

offer him a few suggestions.