The American Claimant

by Mark Twain

  CHAPTER XVII.

  The moment Tracy was alone his spirits vanished away, and all the miseryof his situation was manifest to him. To be moneyless and an objectof the chairmaker's charity--this was bad enough, but his folly inproclaiming himself an earl's son to that scoffing and unbelieving crew,and, on top of that, the humiliating result--the recollection of thesethings was a sharper torture still. He made up his mind that he wouldnever play earl's son again before a doubtful audience.

  His father's answer was a blow he could not understand. At times hethought his father imagined he could get work to do in America withoutany trouble, and was minded to let him try it and cure himself of hisradicalism by hard, cold, disenchanting experience. That seemed the mostplausible theory, yet he could not content himself with it. A theorythat pleased him better was, that this cablegram would be followed byanother, of a gentler sort, requiring him to come home. Should he writeand strike his flag, and ask for a ticket home? Oh, no, that he couldn'tever do. At least, not yet. That cablegram would come, it certainlywould. So he went from one telegraph office to another every day fornearly a week, and asked if there was a cablegram for Howard Tracy. No,there wasn't any. So they answered him at first. Later, they said itbefore he had a chance to ask. Later still they merely shook their headsimpatiently as soon as he came in sight. After that he was ashamed to goany more.

  He was down in the lowest depths of despair, now; for the harder Barrowtried to find work for him the more hopeless the possibilities seemed togrow. At last he said to Barrow:

  "Look here. I want to make a confession. I have got down, now, towhere I am not only willing to acknowledge to myself that I am a shabbycreature and full of false pride, but am willing to acknowledge it toyou. Well, I've been allowing you to wear yourself out hunting for workfor me when there's been a chance open to me all the time. Forgivemy pride--what was left of it. It is all gone, now, and I've come toconfess that if those ghastly artists want another confederate, I'mtheir man--for at last I am dead to shame."

  "No? Really, can you paint?"

  "Not as badly as they. No, I don't claim that, for I am not a genius;in fact, I am a very indifferent amateur, a slouchy dabster, a mereartistic sarcasm; but drunk or asleep I can beat those buccaneers."

  "Shake! I want to shout! Oh, I tell you, I am immensely delightedand relieved. Oh, just to work--that is life! No matter what the workis--that's of no consequence. Just work itself is bliss when a man'sbeen starving for it. I've been there! Come right along; we'll hunt theold boys up. Don't you feel good? I tell you I do."

  The freebooters were not at home. But their "works" were, displayedin profusion all about the little ratty studio. Cannon to the right ofthem, cannon to the left of them, cannon in front--it was Balaclava comeagain.

  "Here's the uncontented hackman, Tracy. Buckle to--deepen the sea-greento turf, turn the ship into a hearse. Let the boys have a taste of yourquality."

  The artists arrived just as the last touch was put on. They stoodtransfixed with admiration.

  "My souls but she's a stunner, that hearse! The hackman will just go allto pieces when he sees that won't he Andy?"

  "Oh, it is sphlennid, sphlennid! Herr Tracy, why haf you not said youvas a so sublime aartist? Lob' Gott, of you had lif'd in Paris you wouldbe a Pree de Rome, dot's votes de matter!"

  The arrangements were soon made. Tracy was taken into full and equalpartnership, and he went straight to work, with dash and energy, toreconstructing gems of art whose accessories had failed to satisfy.Under his hand, on that and succeeding days, artillery disappeared andthe emblems of peace and commerce took its place--cats, hacks, sausages,tugs, fire engines, pianos, guitars, rocks, gardens, flower-pots,landscapes--whatever was wanted, he flung it in; and the more out ofplace and absurd the required object was, the more joy he got out offabricating it. The pirates were delighted, the customers applauded, thesex began to flock in, great was the prosperity of the firm. Tracy wasobliged to confess to himself that there was something about work,--evensuch grotesque and humble work as this--which most pleasantly satisfieda something in his nature which had never been satisfied before, andalso gave him a strange new dignity in his own private view of himself.

  .......................

  The Unqualified Member from Cherokee Strip was in a state of deepdejection. For a good while, now, he had been leading a sort oflife which was calculated to kill; for it had consisted in regularlyalternating days of brilliant hope and black disappointment. Thebrilliant hopes were created by the magician Sellers, and they alwayspromised that now he had got the trick, sure, and would effectivelyinfluence that materialized cowboy to call at the Towers before night.The black disappointments consisted in the persistent and monotonousfailure of these prophecies.

  At the date which this history has now reached, Sellers was appalledto find that the usual remedy was inoperative, and that Hawkins'slow spirits refused absolutely to lift. Something must be done, hereflected; it was heart-breaking, this woe, this smileless misery, thisdull despair that looked out from his poor friend's face. Yes, he mustbe cheered up. He mused a while, then he saw his way. He said in hismost conspicuously casual vein:

  "Er--uh--by the way, Hawkins, we are feeling disappointed about thisthing--the way the materializee is acting, I mean--we are disappointed;you concede that?"

  "Concede it? Why, yes, if you like the term."

  "Very well; so far, so good. Now for the basis of the feeling. It is notthat your heart, your affections are concerned; that is to say, it isnot that you want the materializee Itself. You concede that?"

  "Yes, I concede that, too--cordially."

  "Very well, again; we are making progress. To sum up: The feeling, it isconceded, is not engendered by the mere conduct of the materializee; itis conceded that it does not arise from any pang which the personalityof the materializee could assuage. Now then," said the earl, with thelight of triumph in his eye, "the inexorable logic of the situationnarrows us down to this: our feeling has its source in the money-lossinvolved. Come--isn't that so?"

  "Goodness knows I concede that, with all my heart."

  "Very well. When you've found out the source of a disease, you've alsofound out what remedy is required--just as in this case. In this casemoney is required. And only money."

  The old, old seduction was in that airy, confident tone and thosesignificant words--usually called pregnant words in books. The oldanswering signs of faith and hope showed up in Hawkins's countenance,and he said:

  "Only money? Do you mean that you know a way to--"

  "Washington, have you the impression that I have no resources but thoseI allow the public and my intimate friends to know about?"

  "Well, I--er--"

  "Is it likely, do you think, that a man moved by nature and taught byexperience to keep his affairs to himself and a cautious and reluctanttongue in his head, wouldn't be thoughtful enough to keep a fewresources in reserve for a rainy day, when he's got as many as I have toselect from?"

  "Oh, you make me feel so much better already, Colonel!"

  "Have you ever been in my laboratory?"

  "Why, no."

  "That's it. You see you didn't even know that I had one. Come along.I've got a little trick there that I want to show you. I've kept itperfectly quiet, not fifty people know anything about it. But that's myway, always been my way. Wait till you're ready, that's the idea; andwhen you're ready, zzip!--let her go!"

  "Well, Colonel, I've never seen a man that I've had such unboundedconfidence in as you. When you say a thing right out, I always feelas if that ends it; as if that is evidence, and proof, and everythingelse."

  The old earl was profoundly pleased and touched.

  "I'm glad you believe in me, Washington; not everybody is so just."

  "I always have believed in you; and I always shall as long as I live."

  "Thank you, my boy. You shan't repent it. And you can't." Arrived inthe "laboratory," the earl continued, "Now, cast your eye around thisroom--what do you
see? Apparently a junk-shop; apparently a hospitalconnected with a patent office--in reality, the mines of Golconda indisguise! Look at that thing there. Now what would you take that thingto be?"

  "I don't believe I could ever imagine."

  "Of course you couldn't. It's my grand adaptation of the phonograph tothe marine service. You store up profanity in it for use at sea. Youknow that sailors don't fly around worth a cent unless you swear atthem--so the mate that can do the best job of swearing is the mostvaluable man. In great emergencies his talent saves the ship. But a shipis a large thing, and he can't be everywhere at once; so there have beentimes when one mate has lost a ship which could have been saved ifthey had had a hundred. Prodigious storms, you know. Well, a shipcan't afford a hundred mates; but she can afford a hundred CursingPhonographs, and distribute them all over the vessel--and there, yousee, she's armed at every point. Imagine a big storm, and a hundred ofmy machines all cursing away at once--splendid spectacle, splendid!--youcouldn't hear yourself think. Ship goes through that storm perfectlyserene--she's just as safe as she'd be on shore."

  "It's a wonderful idea. How do you prepare the thing?"

  "Load it--simply load it."

  "How?"

  "Why you just stand over it and swear into it."

  "That loads it, does it?"

  "Yes--because every word it collars, it keeps--keeps it forever. Neverwears out. Any time you turn the crank, out it'll come. In times ofgreat peril, you can reverse it, and it'll swear backwards. That makes asailor hump himself!"

  "O, I see. Who loads them?--the mate?"

  "Yes, if he chooses. Or I'll furnish them already loaded. I can hire anexpert for $75 a month who will load a hundred and fifty phonographs in150 hours, and do it easy. And an expert can furnish a stronger article,of course, than the mere average uncultivated mate could. Then you see,all the ships of the world will buy them ready loaded--for I shall havethem loaded in any language a customer wants. Hawkins, it will work thegrandest moral reform of the 19th century. Five years from now, all theswearing will be done by machinery--you won't ever hear a profane wordcome from human lips on a ship. Millions of dollars have been spentby the churches, in the effort to abolish profanity in the commercialmarine. Think of it--my name will live forever in the affections of goodmen as the man, who, solitary and alone, accomplished this noble andelevating reform."

  "O, it is grand and beneficent and beautiful. How did you ever come tothink of it? You have a wonderful mind. How did you say you loaded themachine?"

  "O, it's no trouble--perfectly simple. If you want to load it up loudand strong, you stand right over it and shout. But if you leave it openand all set, it'll eavesdrop, so to speak--that is to say, it will loaditself up with any sounds that are made within six feet of it. NowI'll show you how it works. I had an expert come and load this one upyesterday. Hello, it's been left open--it's too bad--still I reckon ithasn't had much chance to collect irrelevant stuff. All you do is topress this button in the floor--so."

  The phonograph began to sing in a plaintive voice:

  There is a boarding-house, far far away, Where they have ham and eggs,3 times a day. "Hang it, that ain't it. Somebody's been singing aroundhere."

  The plaintive song began again, mingled with a low, gradually risingwail of cats slowly warming up toward a fight;

  O, how the boarders yell, When they hear that dinner bell They give thatlandlord-- (momentary outburst of terrific catfight which drowns out oneword.)

  Three times a day. (Renewal of furious catfight for a moment. Theplaintive voice on a high fierce key, "Scat, you devils"--and a racketas of flying missiles.)

  "Well, never mind--let it go. I've got some sailor-profanity down inthere somewhere, if I could get to it. But it isn't any matter; you seehow the machine works."

  Hawkins responded with enthusiasm:

  "O, it works admirably! I know there's a hundred fortunes in it."

  "And mind, the Hawkins family get their share, Washington."

  "O, thanks, thanks; you are just as generous as ever. Ah, it's thegrandest invention of the age!"

  "Ah, well; we live in wonderful times. The elements are crowded full ofbeneficent forces--always have been--and ours is the first generation toturn them to account and make them work for us. Why Hawkins, everythingis useful--nothing ought ever to be wasted. Now look at sewer gas, forinstance. Sewer gas has always been wasted, heretofore; nobody triedto save up sewer-gas--you can't name me a man. Ain't that so? you knowperfectly well it's so."

  "Yes it is so--but I never--er--I don't quite see why a body--"

  "Should want to save it up? Well, I'll tell you. Do you see this littleinvention here?--it's a decomposer--I call it a decomposer. I giveyou my word of honor that if you show me a house that produces a givenquantity of sewer-gas in a day, I'll engage to set up my decomposerthere and make that house produce a hundred times that quantity ofsewer-gas in less than half an hour."

  "Dear me, but why should you want to?"

  "Want to? Listen, and you'll see. My boy, for illuminating purposesand economy combined, there's nothing in the world that begins withsewer-gas. And really, it don't cost a cent. You put in a goodinferior article of plumbing,--such as you find everywhere--and addmy decomposer, and there you are. Just use the ordinary gas pipes--andthere your expense ends. Think of it. Why, Major, in five years fromnow you won't see a house lighted with anything but sewer-gas. Everyphysician I talk to, recommends it; and every plumber."

  "But isn't it dangerous?"

  "O, yes, more or less, but everything is--coal gas, candles, electricity--there isn't anything that ain't."

  "It lights up well, does it?"

  "O, magnificently."

  "Have you given it a good trial?"

  "Well, no, not a first rate one. Polly's prejudiced, and she won't letme put it in here; but I'm playing my cards to get it adopted in thePresident's house, and then it'll go--don't you doubt it. I shall notneed this one for the present, Washington; you may take it down to someboarding-house and give it a trial if you like."