MARK TWAIN

Dec. i. Night before last, Madame Leschetizky came
and took Clara and me to Ritter von Dutschka's to dine.
Twenty persons at dinner; Count von Eulenberg (German
Ambassador) and others came in after dinner. A remark-
able gathering—no commonplace people present, no
leatherheads. Princes and other titled people there, not
because of their titles, but for their distinction in achieve-
ment. It was like a Salon of old time Paris. Madame
Dutschka is large and stately and beautiful, cordial and
full of all kinds of charms of manner, and ways and speech.
She is Russian; appears to be about 30, but is really 52,
and has a son 28. Count Kilmansegge, Governor of Upper
Austria, and wife, and—but I cannot remember the name.
The new baritone from Beyreut (von Rooy) sang—a won-
derful voice. He is but 26 and has a future before him.
Leschetizky played. A marvelous performance. He never
plays except in that house, she says. He sacrificed himself
for his first wife—believed she would be the greatest
pianist of all time—and now they have been many years
separated. If he had developed himself instead of her he
would have been the world's wonder himself.

Note added July 19, '09. He is still alive and has his
fourth (?) wife.

Buried treasure in a Missouri village—supposed by
worn figures to be $980. Corrupts the village, causes quar-
rels and murder, and when found at last is $9.80.

We have here probably the first hint of the
great story he was to write a little later, The
Man That Corrupted Hadleyburg.

Ecclesiastical and military courts—made up of cowards,
hypocrites and time-servers—can be bred at the rate of a
million a year and have material left over; but it takes
five centuries to breed a Joan of Arc and a Zola.

342 .