Chapter XXXV: A Pitiful Incident

by Mark Twain

　　It's a world of surprises. The king brooded; thiswas natural. What would he brood about, shouldyou say? Why, about the prodigious nature of hisfall, of course -- from the loftiest place in the world tothe lowest; from the most illustrious station in theworld to the obscurest; from the grandest vocationamong men to the basest. No, I take my oath thatthe thing that graveled him most, to start with, wasnot this, but the price he had fetched! He couldn'tseem to get over that seven dollars. Well, it stunnedme so, when I first found it out, that I couldn't believeit; it didn't seem natural. But as soon as my mentalsight cleared and I got a right focus on it, I saw I wasmistaken; it was natural. For this reason: a king isa mere artificiality, and so a king's feelings, like theimpulses of an automatic doll, are mere artificialities;but as a man, he is a reality, and his feelings, as aman, are real, not phantoms. It shames the averageman to be valued below his own estimate of his worth,and the king certainly wasn't anything more than anaverage man, if he was up that high.Confound him, he wearied me with arguments toshow that in anything like a fair market he would havefetched twenty-five dollars, sure -- a thing which wasplainly nonsense, and full or the baldest conceit; Iwasn't worth it myself. But it was tender ground forme to argue on. In fact, I had to simply shirk argument and do the diplomatic instead. I had to throwconscience aside, and brazenly concede that he oughtto have brought twenty-five dollars; whereas I wasquite well aware that in all the ages, the world hadnever seen a king that was worth half the money, andduring the next thirteen centuries wouldn't see onethat was worth the fourth of it. Yes, he tired me. Ifhe began to talk about the crops; or about the recentweather; or about the condition of politics; or aboutdogs, or cats, or morals, or theology -- no matterwhat -- I sighed, for I knew what was coming; hewas going to get out of it a palliation of that tiresomeseven-dollar sale. Wherever we halted where therewas a crowd, he would give me a look which saidplainly: "if that thing could be tried over again now,with this kind of folk, you would see a different result." Well, when he was first sold, it secretly tickledme to see him go for seven dollars; but before he wasdone with his sweating and worrying I wished he hadfetched a hundred. The thing never got a chance todie, for every day, at one place or another, possiblepurchasers looked us over, and, as often as any otherway, their comment on the king was something likethis:"Here's a two-dollar-and-a-half chump with a thirtydollar style. Pity but style was marketable."At last this sort of remark produced an evil result.Our owner was a practical person and he perceivedthat this defect must be mended if he hoped to find apurchaser for the king. So he went to work to takethe style out of his sacred majesty. I could havegiven the man some valuable advice, but I didn't; youmustn't volunteer advice to a slave-driver unless youwant to damage the cause you are arguing for. I hadfound it a sufficiently difficult job to reduce the king'sstyle to a peasant's style, even when he was a willingand anxious pupil; now then, to undertake to reducethe king's style to a slave's style -- and by force -- goto! it was a stately contract. Never mind the details-- it will save me trouble to let you imagine them. Iwill only remark that at the end of a week there wasplenty of evidence that lash and club and fist had donetheir work well; the king's body was a sight to see --and to weep over; but his spirit? -- why, it wasn'teven phased. Even that dull clod of a slave-driverwas able to see that there can be such a thing as aslave who will remain a man till he dies; whose bonesyou can break, but whose manhood you can't. Thisman found that from his first effort down to his latest,he couldn't ever come within reach of the king, but theking was ready to plunge for him, and did it. So hegave up at last, and left the king in possession of hisstyle unimpaired. The fact is, the king was a gooddeal more than a king, he was a man; and when aman is a man, you can't knock it out of him.We had a rough time for a month, tramping to andfro in the earth, and suffering. And what Englishmanwas the most interested in the slavery question by thattime? His grace the king! Yes; from being themost indifferent, he was become the most interested.He was become the bitterest hater of the institution Ihad ever heard talk. And so I ventured to ask oncemore a question which I had asked years before andhad gotten such a sharp answer that I had not thoughtit prudent to meddle in the matter further. Would heabolish slavery?His answer was as sharp as before, but it was musicthis time; I shouldn't ever wish to hear pleasanter,though the profanity was not good, being awkwardlyput together, and with the crash-word almost in themiddle instead of at the end, where, of course, it oughtto have been.I was ready and willing to get free now; I hadn'twanted to get free any sooner. No, I cannot quitesay that. I had wanted to, but I had not been willingto take desperate chances, and had always dissuadedthe king from them. But now -- ah, it was a newatmosphere! Liberty would be worth any cost thatmight be put upon it now. I set about a plan, andwas straightway charmed with it. It would requiretime, yes, and patience, too, a great deal of both.One could invent quicker ways, and fully as sure ones;but none that would be as picturesque as this; nonethat could be made so dramatic. And so I was notgoing to give this one up. It might delay us months,but no matter, I would carry it out or break something.Now and then we had an adventure. One night wewere overtaken by a snow-storm while still a mile fromthe village we were making for. Almost instantly wewere shut up as in a fog, the driving snow was sothick. You couldn't see a thing, and we were soonlost. The slave-driver lashed us desperately, for hesaw ruin before him, but his lashings only made matters worse, for they drove us further from the road andfrom likelihood of succor. So we had to stop at lastand slump down in the snow where we were. Thestorm continued until toward midnight, then ceased.By this time two of our feebler men and three of ourwomen were dead, and others past moving and threatened with death. Our master was nearly beside himself. He stirred up the living, and made us stand,jump, slap ourselves, to restore our circulation, and hehelped as well as he could with his whip.Now came a diversion. We heard shrieks and yells,and soon a woman came running and crying; and seeing our group, she flung herself into our midst andbegged for protection. A mob of people came tearingafter her, some with torches, and they said she was awitch who had caused several cows to die by a strangedisease, and practiced her arts by help of a devil inthe form of a black cat. This poor woman had beenstoned until she hardly looked human, she was sobattered and bloody. The mob wanted to burn her.Well, now, what do you suppose our master did?When we closed around this poor creature to shelterher, he saw his chance. He said, burn her here, orthey shouldn't have her at all. Imagine that! Theywere willing. They fastened her to a post; theybrought wood and piled it about her; they appliedthe torch while she shrieked and pleaded and strainedher two young daughters to her breast; and our brute,with a heart solely for business, lashed us into positionabout the stake and warmed us into life and commercial value by the same fire which took away the innocent life of that poor harmless mother. That was thesort of master we had. I took his number. Thatsnow-storm cost him nine of his flock; and he wasmore brutal to us than ever, after that, for many daystogether, he was so enraged over his loss.We had adventures all along. One day we ran intoa procession. And such a procession! All the riffraffof the kingdom seemed to be comprehended in it; andall drunk at that. In the van was a cart with a coffinin it, and on the coffin sat a comely young girl ofabout eighteen suckling a baby, which she squeezed toher breast in a passion of love every little while, andevery little while wiped from its face the tears whichher eyes rained down upon it; and always the foolishlittle thing smiled up at her, happy and content, kneading her breast with its dimpled fat hand, which shepatted and fondled right over her breaking heart.Men and women, boys and girls, trotted along besideor after the cart, hooting, shouting profane and ribaldremarks, singing snatches of foul song, skipping,dancing -- a very holiday of hellions, a sickening sight.We had struck a suburb of London, outside the walls,and this was a sample of one sort of London society.Our master secured a good place for us near thegallows. A priest was in attendance, and he helpedthe girl climb up, and said comforting words to her,and made the under-sheriff provide a stool for her.Then he stood there by her on the gallows, and for amoment looked down upon the mass of upturned facesat his feet, then out over the solid pavement of headsthat stretched away on every side occupying thevacancies far and near, and then began to tell thestory of the case. And there was pity in his voice --how seldom a sound that was in that ignorant andsavage land! I remember every detail of what he said,except the words he said it in; and so I change it intomy own words:"Law is intended to mete out justice. Sometimesit fails. This cannot be helped. We can only grieve,and be resigned, and pray for the soul of him whofalls unfairly by the arm of the law, and that his fellows may be few. A law sends this poor young thingto death -- and it is right. But another law had placedher where she must commit her crime or starve withher child -- and before God that law is responsible forboth her crime and her ignominious death!"A little while ago this young thing, this child ofeighteen years, was as happy a wife and mother asany in England; and her lips were blithe with song,which is the native speech of glad and innocent hearts.Her young husband was as happy as she; for he wasdoing his whole duty, he worked early and late at hishandicraft, his bread was honest bread well and fairlyearned, he was prospering, he was furnishing shelterand sustenance to his family, he was adding his miteto the wealth of the nation. By consent of a treacherous law, instant destruction fell upon this holy homeand swept it away! That young husband was waylaidand impressed, and sent to sea. The wife knewnothing of it. She sought him everywhere, she movedthe hardest hearts with the supplications of her tears,the broken eloquence of her despair. Weeks draggedby, she watching, waiting, hoping, her mind goingslowly to wreck under the burden of her misery.Little by little all her small possessions went for food.When she could no longer pay her rent, they turnedher out of doors. She begged, while she had strength;when she was starving at last, and her milk failing, shestole a piece of linen cloth of the value of a fourth partof a cent, thinking to sell it and save her child. Butshe was seen by the owner of the cloth. She was putin jail and brought to trial. The man testified to thefacts. A plea was made for her, and her sorrowfulstory was told in her behalf. She spoke, too, by permission, and said she did steal the cloth, but that hermind was so disordered of late by trouble that whenshe was overborne with hunger all acts, criminal orother, swam meaningless through her brain and sheknew nothing rightly, except that she was so hungry!For a moment all were touched, and there was disposition to deal mercifully with her, seeing that she was soyoung and friendless, and her case so piteous, and thelaw that robbed her of her support to blame as beingthe first and only cause of her transgression; but theprosecuting officer replied that whereas these thingswere all true, and most pitiful as well, still there wasmuch small theft in these days, and mistimed mercyhere would be a danger to property -- oh, my God, isthere no property in ruined homes, and orphanedbabes, and broken hearts that British law holdsprecious! -- and so he must require sentence."When the judge put on his black cap, the ownerof the stolen linen rose trembling up, his lip quivering,his face as gray as ashes; and when the awful wordscame, he cried out, 'Oh, poor child, poor child, I didnot know it was death!' and fell as a tree falls. Whenthey lifted him up his reason was gone; before thesun was set, he had taken his own life. A kindlyman; a man whose heart was right, at bottom; addhis murder to this that is to be now done here; andcharge them both where they belong -- to the rulersand the bitter laws of Britain. The time is come, mychild; let me pray over thee -- not for thee, dearabused poor heart and innocent, but for them that beguilty of thy ruin and death, who need it more."After his prayer they put the noose around theyoung girl's neck, and they had great trouble to adjustthe knot under her ear, because she was devouring thebaby all the time, wildly kissing it, and snatching it toher face and her breast, and drenching it with tears,and half moaning, half shrieking all the while, and thebaby crowing, and laughing, and kicking its feet withdelight over what it took for romp and play. Eventhe hangman couldn't stand it, but turned away.When all was ready the priest gently pulled and tuggedand forced the child out of the mother's arms, andstepped quickly out of her reach; but she clasped herhands, and made a wild spring toward him, with ashriek; but the rope -- and the under-sheriff -- heldher short. Then she went on her knees and stretchedout her hands and cried:"One more kiss -- oh, my God, one more, onemore, -- it is the dying that begs it!"She got it; she almost smothered the little thing.And when they got it away again, she cried out:"Oh, my child, my darling, it will die! It has nohome, it has no father, no friend, no mother --""It has them all!" said that good priest. "Allthese will I be to it till I die."You should have seen her face then! Gratitude?Lord, what do you want with words to express that?Words are only painted fire; a look is the fire itself.She gave that look, and carried it away to the treasuryof heaven, where all things that are divine belong.