The American Claimant

by Mark Twain

  CHAPTER XII.

  Presently the supper bell began to ring in the depths of the house, andthe sound proceeded steadily upward, growing in intensity all the way uptowards the upper floors. The higher it came the more maddening was thenoise, until at last what it lacked of being absolutely deafening, wasmade up of the sudden crash and clatter of an avalanche of boardersdown the uncarpeted stairway. The peerage did not go to meals in thisfashion; Tracy's training had not fitted him to enjoy this hilariouszoological clamor and enthusiasm. He had to confess that there wassomething about this extraordinary outpouring of animal spirits which hewould have to get inured to before he could accept it. No doubt in timehe would prefer it; but he wished the process might be modified and madejust a little more gradual, and not quite so pronounced and violent.Barrow and Tracy followed the avalanche down through an ever increasingand ever more and more aggressive stench of bygone cabbage and kindredsmells; smells which are to be found nowhere but in a cheap privateboarding house; smells which once encountered can never be forgotten;smells which encountered generations later are instantly recognizable,but never recognizable with pleasure. To Tracy these odors weresuffocating, horrible, almost unendurable; but he held his peace andsaid nothing. Arrived in the basement, they entered a large dining-roomwhere thirty-five or forty people sat at a long table. They took theirplaces. The feast had already begun and the conversation was going onin the liveliest way from one end of the table to the other. The tablecloth was of very coarse material and was liberally spotted with coffeestains and grease. The knives and forks were iron, with bone handles,the spoons appeared to be iron or sheet iron or something of the sort.The tea and coffee cups were of the commonest and heaviest and mostdurable stone ware. All the furniture of the table was of the commonestand cheapest sort. There was a single large thick slice of bread by eachboarder's plate, and it was observable that he economized it as ifhe were not expecting it to be duplicated. Dishes of butter weredistributed along the table within reach of people's arms, if theyhad long ones, but there were no private butter plates. The butter wasperhaps good enough, and was quiet and well behaved; but it had morebouquet than was necessary, though nobody commented upon that fact orseemed in any way disturbed by it. The main feature of the feast wasa piping hot Irish stew made of the potatoes and meat left over from aprocession of previous meals. Everybody was liberally supplied withthis dish. On the table were a couple of great dishes of sliced ham, andthere were some other eatables of minor importance--preserves and NewOrleans molasses and such things. There was also plenty of tea andcoffee of an infernal sort, with brown sugar and condensed milk, but themilk and sugar supply was not left at the discretion of the boarders,but was rationed out at headquarters--one spoonful of sugar and one ofcondensed milk to each cup and no more. The table was waited upon by twostalwart negro women who raced back and forth from the bases ofsupplies with splendid dash and clatter and energy. Their labors weresupplemented after a fashion by the young girl Puss. She carriedcoffee and tea back and forth among the boarders, but she made pleasureexcursions rather than business ones in this way, to speak strictly. Shemade jokes with various people. She chaffed the young men pleasantlyand wittily, as she supposed, and as the rest also supposed, apparently,judging by the applause and laughter which she got by her efforts.Manifestly she was a favorite with most of the young fellows andsweetheart of the rest of them. Where she conferred notice she conferredhappiness, as was seen by the face of the recipient; and at the sametime she conferred unhappiness--one could see it fall and dim the facesof the other young fellows like a shadow. She never "Mistered" thesefriends of hers, but called them "Billy," "Tom," "John," and they calledher "Puss" or "Hattie."

  Mr. Marsh sat at the head of the table, his wife sat at the foot. Marshwas a man of sixty, and was an American; but if he had been born amonth earlier he would have been a Spaniard. He was plenty good enoughSpaniard as it was; his face was very dark, his hair very black, and hiseyes were not only exceedingly black but were very intense, and therewas something about them that indicated that they could burn withpassion upon occasion. He was stoop-shouldered and lean-faced, and thegeneral aspect of him was disagreeable; he was evidently not a verycompanionable person. If looks went for anything, he was the veryopposite of his wife, who was all motherliness and charity, goodwill and good nature. All the young men and the women called her AuntRachael, which was another sign. Tracy's wandering and interestedeye presently fell upon one boarder who had been overlooked in thedistribution of the stew. He was very pale and looked as if he had butlately come out of a sick bed, and also as if he ought to get back intoit again as soon as possible. His face was very melancholy. The wavesof laughter and conversation broke upon it without affecting it any morethan if it had been a rock in the sea and the words and the laughterveritable waters. He held his head down and looked ashamed. Some of thewomen cast glances of pity toward him from time to time in a furtiveand half afraid way, and some of the youngest of the men plainly hadcompassion on the young fellow--a compassion exhibited in their facesbut not in any more active or compromising way. But the great majorityof the people present showed entire indifference to the youth and hissorrows. Marsh sat with his head down, but one could catch the maliciousgleam of his eyes through his shaggy brows. He was watching thatyoung fellow with evident relish. He had not neglected him throughcarelessness, and apparently the table understood that fact. Thespectacle was making Mrs. Marsh very uncomfortable. She had the look ofone who hopes against hope that the impossible may happen. But as theimpossible did not happen, she finally ventured to speak up and remindher husband that Nat Brady hadn't been helped to the Irish stew.

  Marsh lifted his head and gasped out with mock courtliness, "Oh, hehasn't, hasn't he? What a pity that is. I don't know how I cameto overlook him. Ah, he must pardon me. You must indeedMr--er--Baxter--Barker, you must pardon me. I--er--my attention wasdirected to some other matter, I don't know what. The thing that grievesme mainly is, that it happens every meal now. But you must try tooverlook these little things, Mr. Bunker, these little neglects on mypart. They're always likely to happen with me in any case, and they areespecially likely to happen where a person has--er--well, where aperson is, say, about three weeks in arrears for his board. You get mymeaning?--you get my idea? Here is your Irish stew, and--er--it gives methe greatest pleasure to send it to you, and I hope that you will enjoythe charity as much as I enjoy conferring it."

  A blush rose in Brady's white cheeks and flowed slowly backward to hisears and upward toward his forehead, but he said nothing and began toeat his food under the embarrassment of a general silence and the sensethat all eyes were fastened upon him. Barrow whispered to Tracy:

  "The old man's been waiting for that. He wouldn't have missed thatchance for anything."

  "It's a brutal business," said Tracy. Then he said to himself, purposingto set the thought down in his diary later:

  "Well, here in this very house is a republic where all are free andequal, if men are free and equal anywhere in the earth, therefore I havearrived at the place I started to find, and I am a man among men, andon the strictest equality possible to men, no doubt. Yet here on thethreshold I find an inequality. There are people at this table who arelooked up to for some reason or another, and here is a poor devil of aboy who is looked down upon, treated with indifference, and shamed byhumiliations, when he has committed no crime but that common one ofbeing poor. Equality ought to make men noble-minded. In fact I hadsupposed it did do that."

  After supper, Barrow proposed a walk, and they started. Barrow had apurpose. He wanted Tracy to get rid of that cowboy hat. He didn't seehis way to finding mechanical or manual employment for a person riggedin that fashion. Barrow presently said:

  "As I understand it, you're not a cowboy."

  "No, I'm not."

  "Well, now if you will not think me too curious, how did you come tomount that hat? Where'd you get it?"

  Tracy didn't know quite how to reply to this, but presently said,
>
  "Well, without going into particulars, I exchanged clothes with astranger under stress of weather, and I would like to find him andre-exchange."

  "Well, why don't you find him? Where is he?"

  "I don't know. I supposed the best way to find him would be to continueto wear his clothes, which are conspicuous enough to attract hisattention if I should meet him on the street."

  "Oh, very well," said Barrow, "the rest of the outfit, is well enough,and while it's not too conspicuous, it isn't quite like the clothesthat anybody else wears. Suppress the hat. When you meet your man he'llrecognize the rest of his suit. That's a mighty embarrassing hat, youknow, in a centre of civilization like this. I don't believe an angelcould get employment in Washington in a halo like that."

  Tracy agreed to replace the hat with something of a modester form, andthey stepped aboard a crowded car and stood with others on the rearplatform. Presently, as the car moved swiftly along the rails, two mencrossing the street caught sight of the backs of Barrow and Tracy, andboth exclaimed at once, "There he is!" It was Sellers and Hawkins.Both were so paralyzed with joy that before they could pull themselvestogether and make an effort to stop the car, it was gone too far, andthey decided to wait for the next one. They waited a while; thenit occurred to Washington that there could be no use in chasing onehorse-car with another, and he wanted to hunt up a hack. But the Colonelsaid:

  "When you come to think of it, there's no occasion for that at all. Nowthat I've got him materialized, I can command his motions. I'll have himat the house by the time we get there."

  Then they hurried off home in a state of great and joyful excitement.

  The hat exchange accomplished, the two new friends started to walk backleisurely to the boarding house. Barrow's mind was full of curiosityabout this young fellow. He said,

  "You've never been to the Rocky Mountains?"

  "No."

  "You've never been out on the plains?"

  "No."

  "How long have you been in this country?"

  "Only a few days."

  "You've never been in America before?"

  "No."

  Then Barrow communed with himself. "Now what odd shapes the notions ofromantic people take. Here's a young fellow who's read in England aboutcowboys and adventures on the plains. He comes here and buys acowboy's suit. Thinks he can play himself on folks for a cowboy, allinexperienced as he is. Now the minute he's caught in this poor littlegame, he's ashamed of it and ready to retire from it. It is thatexchange that he has put up as an explanation. It's rather thin, toothin altogether. Well, he's young, never been anywhere, knows nothingabout the world, sentimental, no doubt. Perhaps it was the naturalthing for him to do, but it was a most singular choice, curious freak,altogether."

  Both men were busy with their thoughts for a time, then Tracy heaved asigh and said,

  "Mr. Barrow, the case of that young fellow troubles me."

  "You mean Nat Brady?"

  "Yes, Brady, or Baxter, or whatever it was. The old landlord called himby several different names."

  "Oh, yes, he has been very liberal with names for Brady, since Bradyfell into arrears for his board. Well, that's one of his sarcasms--theold man thinks he's great on sarcasm."

  "Well, what is Brady's difficulty? What is Brady--who is he?"

  "Brady is a tinner. He's a young journeyman tinner who was getting alongall right till he fell sick and lost his job. He was very popular beforehe lost his job; everybody in the house liked Brady. The old man wasrather especially fond of him, but you know that when a man loses hisjob and loses his ability to support himself and to pay his way as hegoes, it makes a great difference in the way people look at him and feelabout him."

  "Is that so! Is it so?"

  Barrow looked at Tracy in a puzzled way. "Why of course it's so.Wouldn't you know that, naturally. Don't you know that the wounded deeris always attacked and killed by its companions and friends?"

  Tracy said to himself, while a chilly and boding discomfort spreaditself through his system, "In a republic of deer and men where allare free and equal, misfortune is a crime, and the prosperous gore theunfortunate to death." Then he said aloud, "Here in the boarding house,if one would have friends and be popular instead of having the coldshoulder turned upon him, he must be prosperous."

  "Yes," Barrow said, "that is so. It's their human nature. They do turnagainst Brady, now that he's unfortunate, and they don't like him aswell as they did before; but it isn't because of any lack in Brady--he'sjust as he was before, has the same nature and the same impulses, butthey--well, Brady is a thorn in their consciences, you see. They knowthey ought to help him and they're too stingy to do it, and they'reashamed of themselves for that, and they ought also to hate themselveson that account, but instead of that they hate Brady because he makesthem ashamed of themselves. I say that's human nature; that occurseverywhere; this boarding house is merely the world in little, it'sthe case all over--they're all alike. In prosperity we are popular;popularity comes easy in that case, but when the other thing comes ourfriends are pretty likely to turn against us."

  Tracy's noble theories and high purposes were beginning to feel prettydamp and clammy. He wondered if by any possibility he had made a mistakein throwing his own prosperity to the winds and taking up the crossof other people's unprosperity. But he wouldn't listen to that sort ofthing; he cast it out of his mind and resolved to go ahead resolutelyalong the course he had mapped out for himself.

  Extracts from his diary:

  Have now spent several days in this singular hive. I don't know quitewhat to make out of these people. They have merits and virtues, but theyhave some other qualities, and some ways that are hard to get alongwith. I can't enjoy them. The moment I appeared in a hat of the period,I noticed a change. The respect which had been paid me before, passedsuddenly away, and the people became friendly--more than that--theybecame familiar, and I'm not used to familiarity, and can't take to itright off; I find that out. These people's familiarity amounts toimpudence, sometimes. I suppose it's all right; no doubt I can get usedto it, but it's not a satisfactory process at all. I have accomplishedmy dearest wish, I am a man among men, on an equal footing with Tom,Dick and Harry, and yet it isn't just exactly what I thought it wasgoing to be. I--I miss home. Am obliged to say I am homesick. Anotherthing--and this is a confession--a reluctant one, but I will make it:The thing I miss most and most severely, is the respect, the deference,with which I was treated all my life in England, and which seems to besomehow necessary to me. I get along very well without the luxury andthe wealth and the sort of society I've been accustomed to, but I domiss the respect and can't seem to get reconciled to the absence of it.There is respect, there is deference here, but it doesn't fall to myshare. It is lavished on two men. One of them is a portly man of middleage who is a retired plumber. Everybody is pleased to have that man'snotice. He's full of pomp and circumstance and self complacency and badgrammar, and at table he is Sir Oracle and when he opens his mouth notany dog in the kennel barks. The other person is a policeman at thecapitol-building. He represents the government. The deference paid tothese two men is not so very far short of that paid to an earl inEngland, though the method of it differs. Not so much courtliness, butthe deference is all there.

  Yes, and there is obsequiousness, too.

  It does rather look as if in a republic where all are free and equal,prosperity and position constitute rank.