Autobiography of Mark Twain (57 page)

It is reported that Mr. Whipple, keen as he is, unrelenting in his pursuit of a fact, acknowledges that Mr. Rogers was the best fencer he ever met in his legal career. That he was enough for Mr. Whipple, sometimes a little too much, was the general opinion of those who saw the two cross swords.

Mr. Rogers was ill soon after he came to Boston. Our east wind, or the smell of escaping gas with the lid partially off, or something else, was too much for him, and he took to his humble bed in Boston’s Waldorf-Astoria, or the nearest thing to it that the Hub possesses. There were some people who thought that meant that he was going to dodge, that he would be too ill to testify and leave Boston in the lurch, just as a famous operatic star or an actress sometimes does. But the people who knew him said: “No, Mr. Rogers is no dodger; he is a fighter in the heavyweight championship class, and he will see it through.” And he did.

One afternoon Mr. Winsor, after some 10 trying days on the witness stand, answered his last question, smiled his last smile to the court and spectators and stepped down.

The next morning a few “supes” and players of minor parts came on and did their little turn. Then a tall, distinguished-looking gentleman, one bearing the mark of a leader among men, took the centre of the stage, the witness box. For the first time the crowd in the court room got a good look at the man of many millions as Mr. Rogers faced the questioning counsel.

The court gave permission to the witness to sit while he gave his evidence, in consideration of his recent illness.

Mr. Rogers is all that his pictures represent him to be, and much, very much, more. The first thing that almost anyone would notice is his head, a literal “dome of thought,” large, finely shaped, extraordinarily high above the line of the eyes, rounded and fully developed in the back, the head of a man with tremendous capacity for thought, a strong, forceful head, that of a man capable of planning and of executing his plans, distinctly the head of a man of affairs, of tremendous affairs.

The head might attract more attention than the face, although the latter is clearly that of a man of high standing among men, clear cut, almost ascetic in some of its lines, aggressive as to the chin, firm as to the mouth, keen as to the eyes.

The gray, well-trimmed mustache, the alert, vigorous, trim, well kept, well groomed, well set up figure, impart a military air that fits perfectly upon this man of power.

Mr. Whipple is ready to begin his bombardment of questions. Mr. Rogers sits at ease, his legs crossed, his arms upon the rails at the side of the witness box, his head thrown up and back, his eyes inscrutable, his whole demeanor that of waiting on the defence. He doesn’t pose at all, apparently. Many men do in similar positions. Their whole attitude is one of consciousness of being looked at and of trying to look as impressive as possible. But Mr. Rogers isn’t one of that sort. His attitudes fit him as well as the clothes he wears, and that is to perfection.

Mr. Whipple asks the customary questions as to name, residence, etc. Then as to occupation and as to this Mr. Rogers gives some inkling as to his baffling course as a witness. He admitted that he had been in the petroleum business for 40 years, and said: “I am trying to think if I have been in the gas business.” Everybody laughs. Evidently Mr. Rogers is going to be a very amusing witness, at times. Even Mr. Whipple, who can take a joke, even if it is on himself, smiles.

And this smile of Mr. Rogers is worth seeing. It isn’t any little, skimpy, cold, selfish, calculating smile, but the real, genuine, simon-pure article. It makes one think that Mr. Rogers, to those who have the privilege of knowing him well, might be a very pleasant, even a jolly, companion. Shakspere says one may smile and smile and be a villain, but it’s hard to believe it if he smiles just as Mr. Rogers does. It isn’t any smile that won’t come off, however, for the next instant it has vanished and the keen, alert, waiting look has taken its place.

During the first day Mr. Rogers smiled quite often as he deftly parried his opponent’s thrusts, but towards the end of that day, Mr. Whipple, who smiles the hardest when he is about to do his worst, got in a pretty good blow and Mr. Rogers put on a serious and a rather annoyed look. Mr. Whipple wanted Mr. Rogers to produce a certain private correspondence book, and Mr. Rogers objected to doing this. Just as matters began to wax rather warm the judge poured oil on the troubled waters by adjourning court.

The next morning Mr. Rogers, urbane and pleasant, produced the book. That was Friday, and court adjourned to Monday to give Mr. Whipple time to look over the book so as to use its contents to the best advantage.

Monday morning the siege of Mr. Rogers’ citadel of knowledge of gas affairs was renewed by Mr. Whipple and a full day was put in at questions and answers. Whether the court was enlightened much by the day’s developments is not to be stated, but it is pretty certain that the public wasn’t. The way Mr. Rogers parried questions that he didn’t want to answer was well worth listening to. Here is a sample of it.

Q. Were your relations with Mr. Addicks unfriendly in 1901? A. I cannot answer as to that.

Q. Well, as to 1902? A. Oh, we had our differences.

Tuesday was an unusually fruitful day as to interesting topics, at least.

Time and again when Mr. Whipple asked questions as to points on which Mr. Rogers’ recollection was a bit hazy, the witness would refer counsel to his books and papers and memoranda, saying that if anything could be found in them bearing upon the matter at hand, he would be willing and even glad to have it produced.

There were several smiles by the witness, the audience and even the court, during this day. At one time Mr. Rogers smiled at some inward recollection aroused by the reading
of a personal note to him from Mr. Winsor, following a trip the latter had had as Mr. Rogers’ guest on the millionaire’s yacht. This seemed to annoy Mr. Whipple. He walked up close to the witness and fired the question at short range, with briar points in his tone: “Why do you smile, Mr. Rogers?” “I smile because it is natural for me to smile,” said Mr. Rogers, in his very pleasantest, most affable way. Talk about a soft answer turning away wrath! Mr. Rogers is a past master of that little trick all right.

Tuesday was the day Mr. Rogers told of the telephone conversation with Mr. Lawson, and, in view of Mr. Lawson’s version Friday last of the same conversation, Mr. Rogers’ statement is well worth repeating:

“I called up Mr. Lawson on the telephone and asked him how he felt about this reorganization of the New England Gas and Coke Company. He said he felt very unpleasantly. I asked him how, and he recited some private grievances.”

Mr. Whipple—State what they were.

Mr. Rogers—He said, “You know how I feel towards Mr. Whitney and those other people down there, who interfered with me in reference to the New York Yacht Club matter. If I were able I’d rather lose $1,000,000 than make any compromise with them.” I told him if he felt in that frame of mind and preferred it to business it was one thing. He asked me my judgment, and I told him that I thought it would be a wise thing for him to participate in the reorganization.

He said: “Well, that’s the way I feel about it, but I am willing to be influenced by you, and take your advice in the matter.” I said, “It is not for me to advise, it is for you to determine.”

He made some few remarks which I cannot recall, and finally said, “Well, what can I get?” I said: “I don’t know. What do you want?” He said: “I think I ought to have 15 or 20 per cent out of the profits of the reorganization.” I said: “That’s pretty steep, considering that you are not to do much.”

He said: “Well, do the best you can. I am willing to leave it to you.”

I went back and reported to Mr. Winsor that I thought Mr. Lawson would be glad to have an interest in the reorganization.

Mr. Winsor asked: “What interest does he want?” I said I thought he would like to have 15 or 20 per cent. Mr. Winsor said: “I think that is pretty steep for not doing very much.” “Well,” I said, “maybe it is a little too much,” and it was finally settled that Mr. Lawson was to have 10 per cent for the reorganization and any profits that came from his own securities. Mr. Winsor said it was all right, and we took a piece of paper out of my desk and he wrote the memorandum and I initialed it, giving the substance of the conversation with Mr. Lawson.

Next morning I told Mr. Lawson over the telephone of the arrangement, and he said it was all right.

Another time that Mr. Rogers smiled, and caused everybody within hearing to smile, too, was when he was telling on Thursday, his last day on the stand, and near the close of his evidence, of his “scolding” Mr. Addicks.

“Perhaps my words were somewhat emphatic,” Mr. Rogers confessed to Mr. Whipple in a burst of confidence.

Q. Let us see what you do say when you get emphatic with J. Edward Addicks and take him to task? A. Well, in the interest of courtesy, and having a little modesty yet, I do not think I want to go into it further.

Q. Did you use words to Mr. Addicks that you do not care to repeat here? A. I must confess that at the time I was very positive. (Laughter.) In substance I said that his letters or that of his man (Senator Allee) were outrageous, and I wanted to know what he meant
by having “his man” send them to me. He said he knew nothing about them, and I think that is all there was about the case.

Q. Did you threaten Mr. Addicks? A. Oh, no; I never threaten anybody. (Laughter.)

Q. But you scolded him? A. We just had a little talk. It seems that sometimes I am not half as furious as I think I am. (Laughter.)

Then Mr. Rogers smiled, not a grim smile, either, but a sort of a happy, reminiscent smile, like that of a 10-year-old boy who remembers an extra piece of mince pie.

Soon after that Mr. Rogers stepped off the stand for good, bowed pleasantly to the newspaper men to whom he hardly ever failed to speak as he passed them, and left the courtroom.

He certainly made one of the most entertaining witnesses Boston has heard in a long time. We shall be pleased to see you in a similar capacity again, Mr. Rogers.

HEATH.

The following text is preserved in an untitled manuscript in the Mark Twain Papers. Clemens labeled it “Autobiog.” at the top of the first page, but he did not integrate it with the final text of the autobiography. Paine penciled a title on the first page of the manuscript: “Anecdote of Jean. Her love of Animals.” The disaster portrayed in Jean’s picture book occurred on 1 November 1755, when a powerful series of earthquakes, followed by fires and a tsunami, destroyed much of Lisbon and killed an estimated 60,000 people and an unknown number of animals. The event became a focal point for debates on the nature of divine providence, and was frequently depicted in works of art.

Paine omitted this text from the autobiography, but in his biography of Clemens he retold the story, partly by paraphrasing this manuscript (
MTB
, 3:1530). The full text is printed here for the first time.

[Anecdote of Jean]

Feb. 20 ’05.

Jean’s deep love and tenderness for animals continues; and of course will always continue, since it is a part of her temperament. Temperaments are born, not made, and they cannot be changed, by time, nor training, nor by any other force. Katy has been recalling a beautiful incident, apropos of this. When Jean was a little child, Katy was one day amusing her with a picture-book. One picture represented the Lisbon earthquake: the earth was gaping open and the people were tumbling into the chasm. Jean was not interested. Katy turned to the next picture: the same earthquake, but this time it was the
animals
that were being swallowed up. Jean’s eyes filled at once and she said “poor things!” Katy said—

“Why, you didn’t care for the
people.”

Jean said—

“Oh,
they
could
speak.”

*
Aug. ’85. They deny this now, but I go bail I got that statement from Gilder himself. SLC

*
If you call a policeman to settle the dispute you can depend on one thing—he will decide it against you every time. And so will the New York policeman. In London, if you carry your case into court, the man that is entitled to win it will win it. In New York—but no one carries a cab case into court there. It is my impression that it is now more than thirty years since any one has carried a cab case into court there. The foreigner is charged the wildest of prices, but the hotel keeper advises him to pay and keep quiet, and assures him that the court will of a certainty side with the hackman.

*
This is Chapter XIV of my unpublished Autobiography.

*
There are nineteen days of voyaging ahead yet.—M. T.

^*
Six days to sail yet, nevertheless.—M. T.

*
It was at this time discovered that the crazed sailors had gotten the delusion that the captain had
a million dollars
in gold concealed aft, and they were conspiring to kill him and the two passengers and seize it.—M. T.

*
That house still stands.

*
See “Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.”

^†
Used in—“Huck Finn,” I think.

*
Used in “Tom Sawyer.”