§ 120. The Cruel Earthquake
10–11 October 1865
Clemens published four sketches about the San Francisco earthquake that took place on 8 October 1865: two of these survive in fragments reprinted by the western press, and two survive in their original printings. “The Cruel Earthquake” originally appeared in the Virginia City Territorial Enterprise on about October 10 or 11. It survives only in the Gold Hill News, which reprinted it on October 13, introducing the extract as follows: “That funny cuss, Mark Twain, who, when his last hour shall arrive, will probably laugh grim Death out of countenance, writes to the Enterprise the following funny incidents which occurred in San Francisco last Sunday.”
In the fuller account preserved in “The Great Earthquake in San Francisco” (no. 123), Clemens timed the first shock at 12:48 p. m. The tremor rocked buildings and shattered windows and walls, not only in San Francisco but in Santa Cruz, San José, and other towns along the California coast. For several days afterward newspapers carried statistic-laden accounts of the damage as well as anecdotes like those that Clemens recorded for the Enterprise. The distinction of his accounts was, as the Gold Hill News observed, their remarkable ability to inspire laughter even in the face of “grim Death.” Clemens had, in fact, been exploiting the comic possibilities of earthquakes ever since 1864, when he regularly reported on them for the San Francisco Morning Call.1 Earthquakes and the damage they caused were, on the one hand, a “luxury. . . for the morning papers” (as he said in “The Great Earthquake”). On the other hand, they were a natural opportunity for a comic journalist. By personifying earthquakes, or simply by treating them as an expression of supernatural intelligence, Clemens playfully mocked those who ordinarily claimed to speak for that intelligence, like the Reverend Horatio [begin page 290] Stebbins and the Reverend Mr. Harmon. And by a sustained use of the reporter's deadpan manner, he made fun of ordinary people—including himself—whose presence of mind and pretensions to courage were severely tested by this natural premonition of ultimate doom.
singular effects of the shock on the rev. mr. stebbins.
Now the Rev. Mr. Stebbins acted like a sensible man—a man with his presence of mind about him—he did precisely what I thought of doing myself at the time of the earthquake, but had no opportunity—he came down out of his pulpit and embraced a woman. Some say it was his wife. Well, and so it might have been his wife—I'm not saying it wasn't, am I? I am not going to intimate anything of that kind—because how do I know but what it was his wife? I say it might have been his wife—and so it might—I was not there, and I do not consider that I have any right to say it was not his wife. In reality I am satisfied it was his wife—but I am sorry, though, because it would have been so much better presence of mind to have embraced some other woman. I was in Third street. I looked around for some woman to embrace, but there was none in sight. I could have expected no better fortune, though, so I said, “O certainly—just my luck.”Ⓐemendation
a singular illustration.
When the earthquake arrived in Oakland, the commanding officer of the Congregational Sabbath School was reading these words, by way of text: “And the earth shook and trembled!Ⓔexplanatory note” In an instant the earthquake seized the text and preached a powerful sermon on it. I do not know whether the commanding officer [begin page 292] resumed the subject again where the earthquakeⒶemendation left off or not, but if he did I am satisfied that he has got a good deal of “cheek.” I do not consider that any modest man would try to improve on a topic that had already been treated by an earthquake.
a model artist strikes an attitude.
A young gentleman who lives in Sacramento street, rushed down stairs and appeared in public with no raiment on save a knit undershirt, which concealed his person about as much as its tin-foil cap conceals a champagne bottle. He struck an attitude such as a man assumes when he is looking up, expecting danger from above, and bends his arm and holds it aloft to ward off possible missiles—and standing thus he glared fiercely up at the fire-wall of a tall building opposite, from which a few bricks had fallen. Men shouted at him to go in the house, people seized him by the arm and tried to drag him away—even tender-hearted women, (O, Woman!—O ever noble, unselfish, angelic woman!—O, Woman, in our hours of ease uncertain, coy, and hard to please—when anything happens to go wrong with our harness, a ministering angel thouⒺexplanatory note), women, I say, averted their faces, and nudging the paralyzed and impassible statue in the ribs with their elbows beseeched him to take their aprons—to take their shawlsⒶemendation—to take their hoop-skirts—anything, anything, so that he would not stand there longer in such a plight and distract people's attention from the earthquakeⒶemendation. But he wouldn't budge—he stood there in his naked majesty till the last tremor died away from the earth, and then looked around on the multitude—and stupidly enough, too, until his dull eye fell upon himself. He went back up stairs, then. He went up lively.
what happened to a few virginians— charley bryanⒺexplanatory note climbs a telegraph pole.
But where is the use in dwelling on these incidents? There are enough of them to make a book. Joe NoquesⒶemendation Ⓐtextual note Ⓔexplanatory note, of your city, was playing billiards in the Cosmopolitan HotelⒺexplanatory note. He went through a window into the court and then jumped over an iron gate eighteen feet high, and took his billiard cue with him. Sam WitgensteinⒺexplanatory note took refuge in a church—probably the first time he was ever in [begin page 293] one in his life. Judge Bryan climbed a telegraph pole. Pete HopkinsⒺexplanatory note narrowly escaped injury. He was shaken abruptly from the summit of Telegraph Hill and fell on a three-story brick house ten feet below. I see that the morning papers (always ready to smooth over things), attribute the destruction of the house to the earthquakeⒶemendation. That is newspaper magnanimity—but an earthquake has no friends. Extraordinary things happened to everybody except me. No one even spoke to me—at least only one man did, I believe —a man named Robinson—from Salt Lake, I think—who asked me to take a drink. I refused.
The first printing in the Virginia City Territorial Enterprise, probably on 10 or 11 October 1865, is not extant. The sketch survives in the only known contemporary reprinting of the Enterprise, the Gold Hill News for 13 October 1865 (p. 2), which is copy-text. Copy: PH from Bancroft.