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"A History of The Atlantic Monthly" (1994)
"The first issue of The Atlantic Monthly appeared in November of 1857, and the magazine, which billed itself as a 'journal of literature, politics, science, and the arts,' was an immediate success." By Cullen Murphy
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The Mark Twain Papers and Project
The home page of the Mark Twain collection at the Bancroft Library at the University of California, Berkeley. Includes a searchable database of Twain's letters, information about the collection, and related links.
Mark Twain in His Times
A site created by a University of Virginia professor of American Literature, using materials from the university library's Twain collection to illuminate "how 'Mark Twain' and his works were created and defined, marketed and performed, reviewed and appreciated" in his own era.
About.com: Mark Twain
A guide to Mark Twain on the Web. Includes links to articles, biographies, electronic texts, and more.
Mark Twain in The Atlantic Monthly
June 25, 2001
he Atlantic Monthly's
publication this summer of Mark Twain's "A Murder, a Mystery, and a Marriage"—a story Twain submitted to The Atlantic in 1876 that was essentially forgotten and remained unpublished until now—has drawn renewed attention to the author and his connection with the magazine. The relationship began in December, 1869, when William Dean Howells, then an assistant editor at The Atlantic, wrote a highly favorable review of Twain's first book,
Innocents Abroad, which had been published that year by a small
commercial publishing house that sold copies by peddling the book from door to
door. (Howells later also reviewed The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and A
Tramp Abroad for The Atlantic.) Twain was so pleased with the review that he stopped by
The Atlantic's offices to meet Howells in person. The two became good
friends, and as Twain's reputation grew, Howells began soliciting submissions
His pursuit of a story by Twain was unsuccessful until 1874 when Howells, who
was by then The Atlantic's editor in chief, obtained permission from the
magazine's publisher to offer Twain twenty dollars per page—twice as much as most Atlantic contributors were then paid. That year, the first piece by Twain appeared in the magazine, followed by many more over the next decade,
including Old Times on the Mississippi, which appeared in seven
installments in 1875 and was later released as a book under the title Life
on the Mississippi. Although other publications offered higher pay, Twain
submitted regularly to The Atlantic partly out of loyalty to Howells and
partly because he appreciated the magazine's thoughtful readership. In a 1874
letter to Howells he wrote, "The Atlantic audience is the only audience
that I sit down before with perfect serenity (for the simple reason that it
don't require a 'humorist' to paint himself stripèd and stand on his
head every fifteen minutes)."
Below is a sampling of some of Twain's writing that has been published in The Atlantic Monthly. "A Murder, a Mystery, and a Marriage" does not appear online, but those interested in reading the story (along with an
introduction and afterword by Roy Blount that puts the story in context and
recounts its long road to appearing in print), will find it in the July/August
issue of the magazine.
"A True Story, Repeated Word for Word as I Heard It" (November 1874)
Twain was born and raised in Missouri, a slave-holding state. An early
influence on him was a slave named Uncle Daniel who told ghost stories to
gatherings of local children. Twain's first contribution to The
Atlantic, featuring a monologue delivered by a former slave, reflects those
"Well, bymeby my ole mistis say she's broke, an' she got to sell all de niggers
on de place. An' when I heah dat dey gwyne to sell us all off at action in
Richmon', oh de good gracious! I know what dat mean!"
"The Facts Concerning the Recent Carnival of Crime in Connecticut" (June
Aunt Rachel had gradually risen, while she warmed to her subject, and now she
towered above us, black against the stars.
"Dey put chains on us an' put us on a stan' as high as dis po'ch,—twenty
foot high,—an' all de people stood aroun', crowds an' crowds. An' dey'd come
up dah an' look at us all roun', an' squeeze our arm, an' make us git up an'
walk, an' den say, 'Dis one don't 'mount to much.' An' dey sole my ole man, an'
took him away, an' dey begin to sell my chil'en an' take dem away, an' I begin
In early 1876 Twain wrote a story about an encounter between himself and his
(anthropomorphized) conscience, to deliver at one of the regular meetings of
The Monday Evening Club, an association of writers and intellectuals in
Hartford, where he then lived. Some viewed this story as a turning point in
Twain's work—representing the introduction of moral issues into his writing,
which previously had been intended mainly to entertain. Howells published the
story in The Atlantic that spring.
The door opened, and a shriveled, shabby dwarf entered. He was not more than
two feet high. He seemed to be about forty years old. Every feature and every
inch of him was a trifle out of shape; and so, while one could not put his
finger upon any particular part and say, "This is a conspicuous deformity," the
spectator perceived that this little person was a deformity as a whole—a
vague, general, evenly-blended, nicely-adjusted deformity.... And yet, this
vile bit of human rubbish seemed to bear a sort of remote and ill-defined
resemblance to me!
"Some Rambling Notes of an Idle Excursion" (October 1877-January 1878)
In May, 1877, Twain went on a ten-day vacation to Bermuda with a close friend
from Hartford, Reverend Joseph Hopkins Twichell. He kept a journal during the
trip which he later expanded into an account that appeared in The
Atlantic in four installments.
The early twilight of a Sunday evening, in Hamilton, Bermuda, is an alluring
time. There is just enough of whispering, breeze, fragrance of flowers, and
sense of repose to raise one's thoughts heavenward; and just enough amateur
piano music to keep him reminded of the other place....
"A Telephonic Conversation" (June 1880)
We never met a man, or woman, or child anywhere in this sunny island who seemed
to be unprosperous, or discontented, or sorry about anything. This sort of
monotony became very tiresome presently, and even something worse. The
spectacle of an entire nation groveling in contentment is an infuriating
Twain's family was one of the first in Hartford to install a telephone
(which had been invented by Alexander Graham Bell in 1876) in their home. In
1880, Twain, bemused by this new device that permitted eavesdroppers to hear
only one side of a conversation, wrote an amusing description of overhearing
his wife talk on the telephone.
Then followed that queerest of all the queer things in this world,—a
conversation with only one end to it. You hear questions asked; you don't hear
the answer. You hear invitations given; you hear no thanks in return. You have
listening pauses of dead silence, followed by apparently irrelevant and
unjustifiable exclamations of glad surprise, or sorrow, or dismay. You can't
make head or tail of the talk, because you never hear anything that the person
at the other end of the wire says.
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Copyright © 2001 by The Atlantic Monthly Group. All rights reserved.