THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT.

Auckland Star, Volume XXIII, Issue 37, 13 February 1892, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT.

BY MARK TWAIN-

CHAPTER IX. The Earl and Washington started on the sorrowful errand, talki.ng as they walked. ' And as usual !' •What, colonel?'

* Seven of them in bhafc hotel, And all burnb oub, of course.'

' Any of them burnt up ?'

Actresses.

* Oh, no, they escaped; they always do 5 but there's never a one of them that know g enough to fetch out her jewellery with her.' ' That's strange. 1

' Strange—it's the most unaccountable thing in the world. Experience teaches them nothing ; they can't seem to learn anything except out of a book. In some cases there's manifestly a fatality about it. For instance, take Whab's-her-namo, thab plays those sensational thunder and lightning parts. She's got a perfectly immense reputation —draws like a dog-fight—and ib all came from getting burnb oub in hotels.' ' Why, how could thab give her a reputation as an actress f 'It didn't—it only made her name familiar. People went "to see her play because her name is familiar, but they don't know what made it familiar, because they don'b remember. First, she was ab bhe bottom of the ladder, and absolubely obscure— wages thirteen dollars a week and find her own pads.'

' Pads ?'

' Yes, things to fab up her spindles with go as to be plump and attractive. Well, she got burnb oub in bhab hobel and lost £30,000 worbh of diamonds—' ' She ? Where'd she gee bhem ?'

' Goodness knows — given bo her, no doubb, by spooney young flats and sappy old bald-heads in the front row. All the papers were full of it. She struck for higher pay and gob it. Well, she gob burnt oub again and losb all her diamonds, and ib gave her such a lift that she went etarring.' ' Well, if hotel fires are all she's gob bo depend on bo keep up her name, it's a pretty precarious kind of a reputation, I should think.'

' Not with her. No, anything bub thab. Because she's so lucky; born lucky, I reckon. Every time there's a hotel fire, Bhe's in it. She always there—and if she can't be there herself, her diamonds are. Now you can't make anything out of that but jest sheer luck.' 'I never heard of such a thing. She must have lost quarts of diamonds.' ' Quarts, she's losb bushels of bhem. Ibs gob so that the hotels are superstitious aboub her. They won't let her in. They think bhere will be a fire ; and, besides, if she's there ib cancels the insurance; She's been waning a little lately, but this fire will tet her up." She losb §60,000 worth lasb night.' ' I think she's a fool. If I had $60,000 worth of diamonds I wouldn't trust them in ft hotel.'

* I wouldn't either; bub you can't teach an actress that. This one's been burnb out thirty-five times. And yet if there's a hotel fire in San Francisco to-nighb she's gob to bleed again, you mark my words. Perfecb ass ; bhey say she's got diamonds in every hobel in bhe counbry.' When bhey arrived ab the scene of the jfire the poor old earl took one glimpse at (.he melancholy morgue and turned away fcis face, overcome by the spectacle. He eaid:

'It is too true, Hawkins—recognition is impossible, not one of the five could be identified by ibs nearesb friend. You make the selection, I can't bear it.'

' Which one had I better—' • Oh, take any of them. Pick out the best one.'

However, the officers assured the earl— for they knew him, everybody in Washington knew him—that the position in which these bodies were found made it impossible that any one of them could be thab of his noble young kinsman. They pointed oub the spot where, if the newspaper account wa3 correct, be must have sunk down bo destruction ; and at a wide distance from this spob bhey showed him bhe place where the young man musb have gone down in case he was suffocabed in his room; and they showed him still a third place, quite remote, where he might possibly have found his death if, perchance, he tried to escape by the side exit toward the rear. The old colonel brushed away a tear, and said to Hawkins: — ' As it turns out, there was something prophetic in my fears. Yes, ibs a mabber of ashes. Will you kindly step bo agroeery, and febch a couple more baskebs ?' Reverenbly they gob a basket of ashes from each of those now hallowed spots, and carried them home to consult as to the best manner of forwarding them to England, and also to give them an opportunity to «lie in state '—a mark of respect which the colonel deemed obligatory, considering the high rank of tho deceased. They seb tho baskebs on the table in whab was formerly the library, drawingroom, and workshop—now the Hall of Audience—and went upsbairs to the lum-ber-room to see if they could find a British flag to use as a part of the outfit proper to the lying in stabe. A moment later, Lady Rossmore came in from the street and caught sight of the baskets just as old Jinny crossed her field of vision. She quite lost her patience, and said : «Well, what will you do next ? What in bfce world possessed" you to clutter up the parlour table with these baskets of ashes ? 'Ashes?' and she came to look. She put up her hands in pathetic astonishment. ' Well, I never see de like !' •Didn'byou doib?' ' ' Who, me ? Clah bo goodness it s de fusb time I've sob eyes on 'em, Miss Polly, Dab's Dan'l. Dab ole moke is losin' his mine.' „ , Bub ib wasn'b Dan'J, for he was called, and denied ib. 'Dey ain'b no way to 'splain dab wen bib's one er dese yer common 'curronces, a body kin reckon maybe de cat ' 'Oh!' and a shudder shook Lady Rossmore to her foundations. 'I see ib all. Keep away from them—they're Ms.' 'His, m'lady?' 'Yes; your young Marse Sellers from England that's burnt up.' She was alone with the ashes, alone before she could take half a breath. Then ihe went after Mulberry Sellers, purposing to make short work with his programme, whatever ib mighb be; 'for,' said she, »when his senbimentals are up he's a numbskull, and there's no knowing whab extravagance he'll contrive if you let) him alone.' She found him. He had found the flag and was bringing it. When she heard that his idea was to have the remains •lie in state and invite the Government and the public,' she broke it up. She saidTour intentions are all right —they always are—you want to do honour to the remains, and surely nobody can find any fault with that, for he was your km; but you are going the wron£ way aboub it, and you will see ib yourself if you stop and think. You can't file around a basket of ashes brying to look sorry for ib and make a Bight thab is really solemn, because the solemner ib is, the more ib ien'b—anybody can see thab. Ib would be so wibh one baskeb; ib would be bhree times so with three. Well, it sbands bo reason thab if ib wouldn't be solemn with one mourner. It wouldn't with a procession — and

there would be five thousand people here. I don'b know, bub ib would be pretty near ridiculous ; I think it would. No, Mulberry, they can't lie in sbabe—ib would be a mistake. Give thab up and bhink of somebhing else.'

So he gave it up,_ and nob reluctanbly, when he had thought itover and realised how right her insbincfc was. He concluded to merely sit up wibh the remains ; jusb himself and Hawkins. Even this seemed a doubtful attention, to his wife, but she offered no objectioia, for ib was plain that he bad a quite honesb and simple-hearted desire to do the friendly and honourable thing by these forlorn, poor relic 3, which could command no hospitality in this faroff land of strangers but his. He draped bhe flag aboub tho baskets, put some crape on bhe door-knob, and said, with satisfaction —

1 There, ho is as comfortable now as we can make him in the circumstances. Except—yes, we must strain a point there— one must do as one would wish to be done by—he must have it.' ' Have what, dear V ' Hatchment.'

The wife felb that the house-front was standing aboub all it could well stand, in thab way ; the prospect of anobher sbunnin.* decoration of that nature distressed- her, and she wished tho thine had not occurred to him. She said, hesitatingly—

' Bub I bhotrghb such an honour as that wasn't allowed to any but very, very near relations who '

'Righb, you are quite right, my lady, perfectly right; bub there aren't any nearer relatives than relatives by usurpation. We cannob avoid it, we are slaves to aristocratic custom and must submit.'

The hatchments were unnecessarily generous, each boing as large as a blanket, and they were unnecessarily volcanic, too, as to variety and violence of colour ; bub bhey pleased the earl's barbaric eye, and they satisfied his taste for symmetry and completeness, too, for bhey left no waste room to speak of on the house-fronb.

Lady Rossmore and her daughter assisted at the sitting-up till near midnight, and helped the gentlemen to consider what oughb to bo done next with the remains. Rossmore thought they ought to be sent horne —with a committee and resolutions— at once. But the wife was doubtful. She said :

' Would you send, all of the baskets ?' 'Oh, yes, all.' 'All at once?'

'To his father? Oh, no—by no means. Think of the shock:. No—one at a time ; break it to him by degrees.'

' Would that have that effect, father ?'

' Yes, my daughter. Remember, you are young and elastic, bub he is old. To send him the whole ab once mighb well bo more bhan he could bear. Bub mitigated— one basket at a time, with restful intervals between, he wouJd bo used to it by the timo he gob all of him. And sending him in bhree ships is ss.fer any way, on account of wrecks and stor.as.'

' I don'b like bhe idea, fabher. If I were his father ib would be dreadful to havo him coming in that—in that—' 'On tho instalment plan,' suggested Hawkins, gravely, and proud of being able to help. 'Yes, dreadful to have him coming in thab incoherent way. There would be the strain of suspense upon me all the time. To have so depressing a thing as a funeral impending, delayed, waiting, unaccomplished—' ' Oh, no, my child/ said the earl, reassuringly, ' there would be nothing of that kind ; so old a gentleman could not endure a long-drawn suspense like that. There will be bhree funerals.'

Lady Rossmore looked up surprised, and said :

'How is that going to make it easier for him ? Ibs a total mistake, to my mind. He ought to be buried all at once ; I'm sure of it.'

* I should think so, too,' said Hawkins. * And certainly I should,' said the daughter. ' You are all wrong,' said the earl. ' You will see ib yourselves if you think. Only one of these baskets has got him in ib.' 'Very well, then,* said Lady Rossmore,' ' the thing is perfectly simple—bury that one.'

* Certainly,' said Lady Gwendolen. 'Bub it is not simple,' said the earl, ' because we do not, know which basket) he is in. We know he is in one of them, bub that is all we do know. You see now, I reckon, thab I was righb, ib bakes bhree funerals, there is no other way.'

' And three gravee and three monuments and three inscriptions V asked the daughter.

• Well —yes —to do it right. That is what I should do.'

'It could not be done so, father. Each of the inscriptions would give the same name and the same facts, and say he was under each and all of these monuments, and thab would nob answer at all.'

The earl nestled uncomfortably in his chair.

'No,' he said, 'that is an objection. Thab ia a serious objection. I see no way out.'

There was a general silence for a while. Then Hawkins said— 'Ib seems bo me thab if we mixed bhe three ramifications together—' The earl grasped him by the hand and shook it gratefully. 'It solveß the whole problem, he said. •One ship, one funeral, one grave, one monument—it is admirably conceived. Ib does you honour, Major Hawkins ; ib has relieved me of a most painful embarraesmenband distress, and ib will save that poor stricken old father much suffering, Yes, he shall go over in one basket.' •When ?' asked the wife.

'To-morrow— immediately, of course.'

'I would wait, Mulberry.'

•Wait? Why?' • You don't want t6 break thab childless old man's heart.'

• God know 3 I don't!'

• Then wait till ho sends for his son's remains. If you do that, you will never have to give him the last and sharpest pain a parent can know—l mean, the certainty thab his son is dead. For he will never send.'

•Why won'bhe?' 'Because bo send—and find out/ bhe truth—would rob him of the one precious thing left him, the uncertainty, the dim hope that maybe, after a*l, his boy escaped, and he will see him again some 'day.'

' Why, Polly, he'll know by the papers that ho was burnt up.' ' He won't let himself believe the papers; he'll argue against anything and everything thab proves his son is dead ; and he will keep that up and live on ib, and on nobbing else till he dies. Bub if the remains should actually come, and be put before that poor old dim-hoping soul—' • Oh, my God, they never shall! Polly, you've saved me from a crime, and I'll bless you for ib always, flow we know whab bo do. We'll place them reverently away, and he shall never know.'

CHAPTER X. The young Lord Berkeley, with the fresh air of freedom in his nostrils, was feeling invincibly strong for his new career, and yet—and yeb—if the fight should prove a very very hard one ab first, very discouraging, very taxing on untoughened moral sinews, he mighb in some weak momenb want to retreat. Not likely, of course, but possibly that might happen. And so, on the whole, ib might be pardonable caution to burn his bridges behind him. Ob, without doubt. He must not stop with advertising for the owner of thab money, bub musb pub ib where he could nob borrow from ib himself. Meanbime, under stress of circumstances. So he went down bown, and pub in his adverbisemenb, then went to a bank and handed in the §500 for deposit. •Whab name V

He hesitated and coloured a little ; he had forgotten to make a selection. He now brought oub the first one that suggested itself—

'Howard Tracy.'

When he was gone the clerk, marvelling, said :

' The cowboy blushed.'

The Crsb step was .accomplished. The money was still under his command, and ab his disposal, but the next step would dispose of that difficulty. He went to another bank, and drew upon the first bank for the $500 by cheque. The money was collected and deposited a second time to the credit of Howard Tracy. He was asked to leave a few samples of his signature, which he did. Then he went away, once more proud and of perfect courage, saying : ■No help for me now, for henceforth I couldn't draw that money without identification, and that is become legally impossible. No resources to fall back on. It is work or starve from now to the end. lam ready and nob afraid !' Then ho sent this cablegram to his

father

'Escaped unhurt from burning hobel, Have taken fictitious name. Good bye.'

During the evening, while he was wandering aboub in ono of the outlying districts of the city, he came across a small brick church wibh a bill posted there with these words printed on ib : ' Mechanics' Club debate. All invited.' He saw people, apparently mainly of the working class, entering tho place, and he followed and took his seat. It was a humble little church, quite bare as to ornamentation. It bad painted pows without cushions, and no pulpit, properly speaking, bub ib had a platform. On the platform sab bhe chairman, and by his side sab a man who held a manuscript in his hand, and had the waiting look of one who is going to perform tho' principal part. Tho church was soon filled with a quiet and orderly congrogation of decently dressed and modest people. This is whab the chairman said :

' The essayist for thfs evening is an old member of our club whom you all knowMr Parker, assistant editor of the " Daily Democrat." The subject of his essay is " The American Press," and he will use as his text a couple of paragraphs taken from Mr Matthew Arnold's now book. Ho asks mo to read these texts for him. The first is as follows :

'"Goethe says somewhere thab 'bhe bhrill of awe,' that is to say, reverence, is tho best thing humanity has."

'Mr Arnold's other paragraph is as follows:

' " I should say that if ono were searching for the best means to efface and kill in a whole nation the discipline of respect, ono could not do bebter bhan tako the American newspapers !" ' Mr Parker rose and bowod, and was received with warm applause. He then began to read in a good, round, resonant voice, with clear enunciation ana careful attention to his pauses and emphasis. His points were received with approval as he went on.

The essayist book the position that the most important function of a public journal in any country was the propagating of national feeling and pride in tho national name—the keeping the peoplo 'in love with their country and its institutions, and shielded from the allurements of alien and inimical systems.' He sketched the manner in which the reverent Turkish or Russian journalisb fulfilled bhis function—tho one assisted by the prevalent ' discipline of respect' for the basbinado, the other for Siberia. Continuing, he said :

* The chief function of an English journal i 3 that of all other journals the world over; ib musb keep the public eye fixed admiringly upon certain things, and keep ib diligently diverted from certain others. For instance, it must keep tho public eye fixed admiringly upon bhe glories of England, a processional splendour sbrebching ibs receding lino down bhe hazy vistas of time, with the mellowed lights of a thousand years glinting from its banners; ib musb keep ib diligenbly diverted from bhe fact bhab all bhese glories were for the enrichment and aggrandisement of the petted and privileged few, at cost of bhe blood and sweat) and poverty of the unconsidered masses who achieved them, but might not enter in and partake of them. It must keep the public eye fixed in loving and awful reverence upon the throne as a sacred thing, and diligently divert it from the fact thab no throne was ever set up by the unhampered vote of a majority of any nation, and thab hence no throne exists that has a rightto exist, and nosymbolof it, flying from any flagstaff, is righteously entited to wear any device but the skull and cross bones or that kindred industry which differs from royalty only business-wise—merely as retail differs from wholesale. It must keep the citizen's eye fixed in reverent docility upon that curious invention of machine politics, an Established Church, aud upon that bald contradiction of common justice, a hereditary nobility ; and diligently divert ib from the fact that the one damns him if he doesn't wear ibs collar, and robs him under the gentle name of taxation whether he wears it or not, and the other gets all tho honours while he does all the work.'

The essayist thought that ' Mr Arnold, with his trained eye and intelligent observation, ought to have perceived thab the very quality which he so regretfully missed from our press—respectfulness, reverence— was exactly the thing which would make our press useless to us if ib had it—rob it of bhe very bhing which differentiates it from all obher journalism in the world, and makes it distinctively and preciously American, its frank and cheerful irreverence being by all oddsthemostvaluableofall its qualities. For its mission—overlooked by Mr Arnold—is to stand guard over a nation's liberties, nob its humbugs and shams.' He thought that if during fifty years the institutions of the Old World could be exposed to the fire of a flaunting and scoffing press like ours, ' monarchy and its atbendanb crimes would disappear from Chrisbendom.' Monarchists mighb doubb bhis ; then, ' why not porsuade bhe Czar bo give ib atrial in Russia ?'

Concluding, he said—

' Well, the charge is, that our press has bub little of that Old World quality, reverence. Let us be candidly grabeful bhab ib is so. With its limited reverence ib ab least reveres bhe bhings which this nation reveres, as a rule, and thab is sufficienb; whab other people revere is fairly and properly matter of light importance to us. Our press does not reverence kinsrs. it does not reverence so - called nobilities, ib does not reverence established ecclesiastical slaveries, it does nob reverence laws which rob a younger son to fatten an elder one, ib does nob reverence any fraud or sham or infamy, howsoever old or robben or holy, which sebs on 9 citize.n above his neighbour by accident of birbh ; ib does not reverence any law or custom, howsoever old or decayed or sacred, which shuts against the besb man in bhe land the besb place in bhe land and the divine right to prove property and go up and occupy it. In the sense of the poet Goethe — that meek idolater of provincial three carat royalty and nobility—our press is certainly bankrupt in bhe " bhrill of awe," obherwisereverence —reverence for nickol plate and brummagem. Let us sincerely hope thab this fact will remain a fact for ever; for to my mind a discriminating irreverence is the creator and protector of human liberty, even as the other thing is the creator, nurse and steadfast protector of all forms of human slavery, bodily and mental.'

Tracy said to himself, almost shouted to himself,'l'm glad I came to this country. I was right. I was right to seek out a land where such healthy principles and bhoories are in men's hearbs and minds. Think of bhe innumerable slaveries imposed by misplaced reverence. -Tow well he brought that out, and how true it is. There's

manifestly prodigious force in reverence. If you can get a man to reverence your ideals, he's your slave. Oh, yes, in all the ages the peoples of Europe havo been diligently taught to avoid reasoning about the shams of monarchy and nobility, been taught to avoid examining them, been taught to reverence them ; and now as a natural result, to reverence them is second nature. In order to shock them ib is suflicienb to inject a thought of the opposite kind into their dull minds. For ages, any expression of so-called irreverence from their lips has been sin and crime. The sham and swindle of all this is apparent bhe moment one reflects thab he himself is the only legitimately qualified judge of what is ontitled to reverence and whab is nob. Come, I hadn't thought of that before, but ib is true, absolutely true. Whab righb has Goethe, whab right has Arnold, whab right has any dictionary, to define the word Irreverence for me ? What their ideals are is nothing to me. So long as I reverence my own ideals my whole duty is done, and I commit no profanation if I laugh ab theirs. I may scoff at other peoples' ideals as much as I want bo. Ib is my right and my privilege. No man has any righb to deny it.' Tracy was expecting to hear the essay debated, bub this did not happen. The chairman said, by way of explanation :

' I would say, for the information of the strangers present here, that in accordance with our custom the subject of this meeting will be debated at bhe nexb meeting of tho club. This is in order to enable our members to prepare what they may wish to say upon the subject with pen and paper, for we are mainly mechanics, and not accustomed to speaking. We aro obliged to write down what we desire to say.'

Many brief papers were now read, and several off-hand speeches made in discussion of the essay read ab the last meeting of tho club, which had boon a laudation, by some visiting profossor, of collogeculture, and tho grand results flowing from it to tho nation. Ono of the papers was read by a man approaching middle age, who said he hadn't had a college oducation, but he had got his education in a printing office, and had graduated from bhorc into the patent office, where he had boon a clerk now for a great many years. Then he continued to this effect :—

Tho essayist contrasted bho America of to-day with tho Amorica of bygone times, and certainly tho result is tho exhibition of a mighty progress. But I think he a little over-rated the college-culturo share in tho production of that result. Ib can, no doubt, be easily shown that tho colleges havo contributed the intellectual part of this progress, and that that part is vast; but that tho matorial progress has been immeasurably vaster, I think you will concede Now I have been looking over a list of inventors—the creators of this amazing material development — and I find that they wcro not college bred men. Of course there are exceptions, like Professor Henry, of Princeton, tho inveutor of Mr Morse's system of telegraphy—but these exceptions aro few. It is nob over-sbatement to say bhab the imagination-stunning material development of this century, tho only century worth living in since time itself was invented, is the creation of men nob collegebrod. Wo think we see what these inventors have done ; no, wo see only the visible vast frontage ot their work. Behind it is their far vaster work, and it is invisible to the careless glance. They have reconstructed this nation—made it over, that is —and, metaphorically speaking, havo multiplied its numbers almost beyond the power of figures to express, I will explain what I mean. What constitutes the population of a land ? Merely the numerable packages of meat and bones in it called by courtesy men and women ? Shall a million ounces of brass and a million ounces of gold be hold bo be of the same value? Tako a truer standard: the measure of a man's contributing capacity to his time and his peoplo—the work he can do—and then number the population of this country to-day, a3 multiplied by what a man can do now, more bhan his grandfather could do. By this standard of measurement, this nation, two or three generations ago, consisted of mere cripples, paralytics, dead men, as compared with the men of to-day. In 1840 our population was 17,000,000. By way of rude but striking illustration, leb us consider, for argument's sake, thab four of these millions consisbed of aged peoplo, libtle children, and other incapabies, and that the remaining 13,000,000 weie divided and employed as follows : — 2,000,000 as ginners of cotton. 6,000,000 (women) as stocking knitters.

2.000,000 (women) as thread spinners. 500,000 as screw makers. 400,000 as reapers, binders, etc. 1,000,000 as corn shellers. 40,000 as weavers.

1,000 as stitchers of shoe soles.

Now the deductions which I am going bo append to these figures may sound extravagant, but they are not. I take them from Miscellaneous Documents No. 50, second session 45th Congress, and they are official and trustworthy. To-day, the work of those 2,000,000 cotton ginners is done by 2,000 men ; thab of the 6,000,000 stocking knitters is done by 3,000 boys ; thab of tho 2,000,000 threadspinners is done by 1,000 girls ; that of the 500,000 screw makers is done by 500 girls; thab of the 400,000 reapers, binders, etc., is done by 4,000 boys ; that of the 1,000,000 corn shellers is done by 7,500 men ; that of the 40,000 weavers is done by 1,200 men ; and that of tho 1,000 stitchers of shoe soles is done by 6 men. To bunch the figures, .7,000 persons to-day do the above work, whereas fifty years ago it would have taken thirteen millions of porsons to do it. Now then, how many of thab ignorant race—our fathers and grandfathers—with their ignorant methods, would ib take to do our work to-day 1 It would take forty thousand millions—a hundred times the swarming population of China—twenty times the present population of the globe. You look around you and you see a nation of sixty millions —apparently ; but secreted in thoir hands and brains, and invisible to your eyes, is the true population of this republic, and it numbers forty billions. It is the stupendous creation of those humble, unlettered, uncolloge-bred inventors — all honour to their name.

' How grand that is !' said Tracy, as he wended homeward ; ' what a civilisation ib is, and whab prodigious results these are I and brought about almost wholly by common men ; not by Oxford-trained aristocrats, bub men who stand shoulder to shoulder in the humble ranks of life and earn the bread that they eat. Again, I'm glad I came. I have found a country at last where one may start fair, and breast to breast with his fellow man, rise by his own efforts, and be something in the world and be proud of thab something ; not be something created by an ancestor bhree hundred years ago.

(To be Continued.)