The following notes concerning the inhabitants of Hannibal, Missouri, and their lives in the days before the Civil War were written by Mark Twain in 1897.1 The title is his. The manuscript survives as a fragment inasmuch as the last entry breaks off in the middle of a sentence at the bottom of a page. A possible explanation is that the remainder of the piece dealt in a derogatory manner with the author's brother Orion, for Twain wrote much that was highly critical of his erratic sibling. If so, he may have destroyed the rest of the manuscript upon hearing of Orion's death on 11 December 1897.
Fragment though this is, it represents a remarkable feat of memory. The author was taken by his parents to Hannibal in 1839, when he was less than four years old. He left the town, never to live there again, in 1853 when he was seventeen. Whatever he learned about the community and its people thereafter, before writing “Villagers,” he learned by revisiting it briefly in 1861, 1867, 1882, 1885, and 1890, by talking or corresponding with former and continuing residents, and by reading news stories and histories.2 Writing in Switzerland, he almost certainly had little or no opportunity to check his accuracy. He was sixty-one years old.
[begin page 24]Bearing these facts in mind, one must, I believe, find this document impressive. Perhaps it was no great feat for him to recall titles of songs played and sung by antebellum beaux and belles—“Last Link Is Broken,” “Oh, on Long Island's Sea-girt Shore,” “For the Lady I Love Will Soon Be a Bride,” “Bonny Doon,” and others. Perhaps it was no more striking an achievement to name the popular authors of the day and to generalize about the literature of that “intensely sentimental age.” It may be that others in their sixties could recall equally well details about costumes of the era—“Cloak of the time, flung back, lined with bright plaid. Worn with a swagger. . . . Slouch hat. . . . Hoop-skirts coming in.” Yet taken together such evocations demonstrate Clemens's enduring power of recall. So does this outline of rituals observed in the celebration of a holiday:
4th July. Banners. Declaration and Spreadeagle speech in public square. Procession—Sunday schools, Masons, Odd Fellows, Temperance Society, Cadets of Temperance, the Co of St P Greys, the Fantastics (oh, so funny!) and of course the Fire Co and Sam R. Maybe in the woods. Collation in the cool shade of a tent. Gingerbread in slabs; lemonade; ice cream. Opened with prayer—closed with a blessing.
And surely readers will be impressed by the author's extensive recollections of the lives of so many townsfolk—a hundred and sixty-eight of them. These are all the more interesting when one realizes that he must have acquired most of the facts used in the descriptions between the ages of three and seventeen and that he was setting them down after four and a half decades or more had intervened. To be sure, fifteen of those who are not named and thirty-three who are named I was unable to identify outside the document. But the accuracy of the biographies which I was able to check suggests that Clemens may well have made few errors concerning this untraced group of forty-eight. The remaining one hundred and twenty villagers mentioned—ninety-seven named, twelve not named, and eleven given fictional names—are identifiable in documents other than this one, and with remarkably few exceptions his statements about them prove to be entirely correct.3
One may speculate on the reasons for Twain's ordering this parade of old acquaintances as he did. A good guess may be that he starts with Judge Draper because the judge was the oldest inhabitant of the town [begin page 25] as the boy knew it. He may proceed to the Carpenter family because Judge Carpenter (under another name) was a close associate of Draper. He next recalls the Carpenters' doctor, Meredith, and Meredith's family, and then two other doctors. Why Lawyer Lakenan is recalled next it is hard to say, but it is possible to guess why the next group considered is the Robards family: one of the Robards boys courted Mary Moss, who eventually married Lakenan. It is not surprising to find that the notes on the Robards family are followed by notes on the Moss family, which include the grim story of the marriage between Mary Moss and Lakenan.
This is typical of the luck one has when trying to see what associations in Twain's mind account for the arrangement of the biographies: some names seem to come together unaccountably, but a number have clear associations. Dana Breed, Lot Southard, and Jesse Armstrong logically cluster because all three were clerks, and the mention of a printer is followed by notes on several printers. Writing about the Briggs family, the author mentions three teachers of the Briggs children and then treats Hannibal's schoolmarms in more detail in the following paragraphs. His writing about Owsley (which he spells “Ouseley”), the merchant who shot old Smarr, evidently suggests memories of several other villagers involved in violence—the slave who raped and murdered a thirteen-year-old girl, the unidentified California emigrant who was stabbed, Judge Carpenter who knocked down MacDonald with a mallet, and MacDonald who tried to shoot Colonel Elgin.
These last entries stress aspects of Hannibal that will surprise any readers who have been persuaded by Mark Twain's fictional representations of the town that his memories of it were wholly idyllic. Some entries, of course, are in this mode—the one about the town's being nonmaterialistic, for instance, and the astonishing and internally contradicted generalization about the good repute of all the young women. But a number of entries suggest resemblances not between the folk of Hannibal and those of Arcady but between them and the inhabitants of Spoon River, Winesburg, and Peyton Place. The account of the Lakenan–Moss marriage places in the Missouri village a situation and a disastrous sleigh ride which foreshadow those in Edith Wharton's Ethan Frome. Sam Bowen's marriage and subsequent degradation are the stuff of tragedy. The bitterly ironic outcome of Roberta Jones's playful prank is a lifetime of horror. The Ratcliff family, with its persistent strain of madness, is presented as both frightening and pitia- [begin page 26] ble. And unaccented, quite incidental details about other townsfolk show that, far from being sweetly serene, this was a community with its full share of grisly secrets.4
One interest that these reminiscences have derives from the fact that they show something important about Mark Twain's writing: they prove beyond any doubt that, as a rule, when he pictured Hannibal either in fiction about children or in purportedly factual reminiscences, he greatly modified and even deleted the more sordid aspects. They also prove that fictionizing must have been compulsive for him. For the form—or the formlessness—of these notes makes it evident that they were meant for the author's eye alone, that he set them down as mere notations to be developed in one of his many current works utilizing antebellum Hannibal scenes and townspeople: parts of his Autobiography,5 the “Schoolhouse Hill” version of “The Mysterious Stranger,” “Hellfire Hotchkiss,” and “Tom Sawyer's Conspiracy.” But even in these private notes, the author is highly inventive.
Although he gives several other towns and cities their actual names in the notes, when he refers to the village of Hannibal he calls it “St P,” an abbreviation for St. Petersburg, its fictional name in stories about Tom and Huck. Furthermore, he must have deliberately made the dates in his title inaccurate, for he surely knew that few of his memories dated back to the period beginning with his fourth year and ending with his seventh. There are a few significant changes in the names: the Carpenters actually are his own family, the Clemenses, and their Christian names, although they begin with appropriate initials, are also fictitious. Mother Jane Clemens becomes Joanna Carpenter, brother Orion becomes Oscar, and so forth. The young man who, according to family legend, jilted Jane before she married John Marshall Clemens on [begin page 27] the rebound is called Dr. Ray, although a decade earlier Clemens had known that in fact his name was Barrett.6 Histories of Hannibal contain no reference to the picturesque unbeliever, Blennerhasset, and if there was such a person, he almost certainly bore another name. The melodramatic quality of the account of the man's death makes one suspect that he is largely if not wholly an imaginary character.
The most extraordinary invention occurs in the entry concerning Jesse Armstrong and his wife. It states that after the wife (given name unspecified) began to have an affair with her physician, someone entered the house one night and chopped Armstrong to pieces with an ax picked up from the woodpile. The widow and her lover, so the note says, were tried but were freed because evidence was lacking. Within a year they married. Now, there was a Jesse Armstrong who was a distant cousin of Clemens. But nothing like this ever happened to him, his wife, or her doctor. In this note, meant for his eye alone, the author attributed to the Armstrongs actions which actually involved a different trio of citizens and occurred in Hannibal in 1888, long after he had left the town.7
“Villagers of 1840–3” thus is interesting for its remarkable accuracies as well as its deliberate and its unintentional inaccuracies. It provides a striking verification for Dixon Wecter's assertion that “All his days he wrote fiction under the cloak of autobiography, and autobiography with the trappings of fiction.”8
Judge Draper, dead without issue.
Judge Carpenter. Wife, Joanna.Ⓐalteration in the MS Sons: Oscar, Burton, Hartley, Simon. Daughter, Priscella.
Dr. MeredithⒶalteration in the MS. Sons, Charley and John. Two old-maid sisters. He had been a sailor, and had a deep voice. Charley went to California and thence to hell; John, a meek and bashful boy, became the cruelest of bushwhacker-leaders in the war-time.
Dr. Fife. Dr. Peake.
LawyerⒶalteration in the MS Lakenan.
Captain Robards. Flour mill. Called rich. George (flame, Mary Moss,) an elder pupil at Dawson's, long hair, Latin, grammar, etc. Disappointed, wandered out into the world, and not heard of again for certain. Floating rumors at long intervals that he had been seen in South America (Lima) and other far places. Family apparently not disturbed by his absence. But it was known that Mary Moss was.
John Robards. When 12, went to California across the plains with his father. Gone a year. Returned around Cape Horn. Rode in the Plains manner, his long yellow hair flapping. He said he was appointed to West Point and couldn't pass because of a defect in [begin page 29] his eye. Probably a lie. There was always a noticeable defect in his veracity. Was a punctual boy at the Meth. Sunday school, and at Dawson'sⒶemendation; a good natured fellow, but not muchⒶalteration in the MS to him. Became a lawyer. Married a Hurst—new family. Prominent and valued citizen, and well-to-do. Procreated a cloud of children. Superintendent of the Old Ship of Zion Sunday school.
Clay Robards. A good and daring rebel soldier. Disappeared from view.
Sally Robards. Pupil at Dawson's. Married Bart Bowen, pilot and captain. Young widow.
Russell Moss. Pork-house. Rich. Mary, very sweet and pretty at 16 and 17. Wanted to marry George Robards. Lawyer Lakenan the rising stranger, held to be the better match by the parents, who were looking higher than commerce. They made her engage herself to L. L. made her study hard a year to fit herself to be his intellectual company; then married her, shut her up, the docile and heart-hurt young beauty, and continued her education rigorously. When he was ready to trot her out in society 2 years later and exhibit her, she had become wedded to her seclusion and her melancholy broodings, and begged to be left alone. He compelled her—that is, commanded. She obeyed. Her first exit was her last. The sleigh was overturned, her thigh was broken; it was badly set. She got well with a terrible limp, and forever after stayed in the house and produced children. Saw no company, not even the matesⒶalteration in the MS of her girlhood.
Neil Moss. The envied rich boy of the Meth. S. S. Spoiled and of small account. Dawson's. Was sent to Yale—a mighty journey and an incomparable distinction. Came back in swell eastern clothes, and the young men dressed up the warped negro bell ringer in a travesty of him—which made him descend to village fashions. At 30 he was a graceless tramp in Nevada, living by mendicancy and borrowed money. Disappeared. The parents died after the war. Mary Lakenan's husband got the property.
Dana Breed. From Maine. Clerk for old T. R. Selmes, an Englishman. Married Letititia Richmond. Collins and Breed—merchants.—This lot all dead now.
[begin page 30]Lot Southard. Clerk. Married Lucy LockwoodⒶalteration in the MS. Dead.
Jesse Armstrong. Clerk for Selmes. Married -----. After many years she fell in love with her physician. One night somebody entered the back door—A. jumped out of bed to see about it and was chopped to pieces with an axe brought from his own woodpile. The widow and the physician tried for the murder. Evidence insufficient. Acquitted, but Judge, jury and all the town believed them guilty. Before the year was out they married, and were at once and rigorously ostracised. The physician's practice shrunk to nothing, but Armstrong left wealth, so it was no matter.
Bill Briggs. Drifted to California in '50, and in '65 was a handsome bachelor and had a woman. Kept a faro-table.
John Briggs. (Miss Torrey and Miss Newcomb and Mrs. Horr.) WorkedⒶalteration in the MS as stemmer in Garth's factory. Became a 6-footer and a capable rebel private.
Artemissa Briggs. (Miss Torrey, N. and Mrs. H.) Married Richmond the mason, Miss Torrey's widower.
Miss Newcomb—old maid and thin. Married Davis, a day laborer.
Miss Lucy Davis. Schoolmarm.
Mrs. Hawkins. Widow about 1840. 'Lige—became rich merchant in St Louis and New York.
Ben. City marshal. Shot his thumb off, hunting. Fire marshal of Big 6 Company.
Jeff. Little boy. Died. Buried in the old graveyard on the hill.
Sophia. Married ---- the prosperous tinner.
Laura. Pretty little creature of 5 at Miss Torrey's. At the Hill street school she and Jenny Brady wrote on the slate that day at the noon recess. Another time Laura fell out of her chair and Jenny made that vicious remark. Laura lived to be the mother of six 6-foot sons. Died.
Little Margaret Striker.
----Striker the blacksmith.
McDonald the desperadoⒶemendation (plasterer.)
Mrs. Holiday. Was a Mac Donald, born Scotch. Wore her father's ivory miniature—a British General in the Revolution. Lived [begin page 31] on Holiday's Hill. Well off. Hospitable. Fond of having parties of young people. Widow. Old, but anxious to marry. Always consulting fortune-tellers; always managed to make them understand that she had been promised 3 by the first fraud. They always confirmed the prophecy. She finally died before the prophecies had a full chance.
Old Stevens, jeweler. Dick, Upper Miss. pilot. Ed, neat as a new pin. Miss Newcomb's. Tore down Dick Hardy's stable. Insurrection-leader. Brought before Miss N., brickbats fell out of his pockets and J. Meredith's. Ed was out with the rebel company sworn in by Col. Ralls of the Mexican war.
Ed. Hyde, Dick Hyde. Tough and dissipated. Ed. held his uncle down while Dick tried to kill him with a pistol which refused fire.
Eliza Hyde. “Last Link is Broken.” Married a stranger. Thought drifted to Texas. Died.
Old Selmes and his Wildcat store. Widower. His daughter married well—St Louis.
'Gyle Buchanan. Robert, proprietor of Journal. Shouting methodists. Young Bob and Little JoeⒶalteration in the MS, printers. Big Joe a fighter and steamboat engineer after apprenticeship as a moulder. Somebody hit young Bob over the head with a fire-shovel.
Sam Raymond—fire company, and editor of (Journal?) St Louis swell. Always affected fine city language, and said “Toosday.” Married Mary Nash?
Tom Nash. Went deaf and dumb from breaking through ice. Became a house-painter; and at Jacksonville was taught to talk, after a fashion. His 2 young sisters went deaf and dumb from scarlet fever.
Old Nash. Postmaster. His aged mother was Irish, had family jewels, and claimed to be aristocracy.
Blankenships. The parents paupers and drunkards; the girls charged with prostitution—not proven. Tom, a kindly young heathen. Bence, a fisherman. These children were never sent to school or church. Played out and disappeared.
Captain S. A. Bowen. Died about 1850. His wife later.
[begin page 32]John, steamboat agent in St Louis; army contractor, later—rich.
Bart. Pilot and Captain. Good fellow. Consumptive. Gave $20, time of Pennsylvania disaster. Young McManus got it. Left young widow.
Mary.Ⓐalteration in the MS Married lawyer Green, who was Union man.
Eliza—stammered badly, and was a kind of a fool.
Will. Pilot. Diseased. Mrs. Horr and all the rest (including Cross?) Had the measles that time. Baptist family. Put cards in minister's baptising robe. Trouble in consequence. Helped roll rock down that jumped over Simon's dray and smashed into coopershop. He died in Texas. Family.Ⓐalteration in the MS
Sam. Pilot. Slept withⒶalteration in the MS the rich baker's daughter, telling the adoptive parents they were married. The bakerⒶemendationⒶalteration in the MS died and left all his wealth to “Mr. and Mrs. S. Bowen.” They rushed off to a Carondolet magistrate, got married, and bribed him to antedate the marriage. Heirs from Germany proved the fraud and took the wealth. Sam no account and a pauper. Neglected his wife; she took up with another man. Sam a drinker. Dropped pretty low. Died of yellow fever and whisky on a little boat with Bill Kribben the defaulting secretary. Both buried at the head of 82. In 5 years 82 got washed away.
Rev. Mr. Rice. Presbyterian. Died.
Rev. Tucker. Went east.
Roberta Jones. Scared old Miss ----- into the insane asylum with a skull and a doughface. Married Jackson. “Oh, on Long Island's Sea-girt Shore.”
Jim Quarles. Tinner. Set up in business by his father—$3,000—a fortune, then. Popular young beau—dancer—flutist—serenaderⒶalteration in the MS—envied—a great catch. Married a child of 14. Two babies the result. Father highly disapproved the marriage. Dissipation—often drunk. Neglected the business—and the child-wife and babies. Left them and went to California. The little family went to Jim's father. Jim became a drunken loafer in California, and so died.
Jim Lampton. A popular beau, like the other. Good fellow, very handsome, full of life. Young doctor without practice, poor, but [begin page 33] good family and considered a good catch. Captured by the arts of Ella Hunter, a loud vulgar beauty from a neighboring town—one of the earliest chipper and self-satisfied and idiotic correspondents of the back-country newspapers—an early Kate Field. Moved to St Louis. Steamboat agent. Young Dr. John McDowell boarded with them; followed them from house to house; an arrant scandal to everybody with eyes—but Jim hadn't any, and believed in the loyalty of both of them. God took him at last, the only good luck he ever had after he met Ella. Left a red-headed daughter, Kate. Doctor John and Ella continued together.
In sixty years that town has not turned out a solitary preacher; not a U.S. Senator, only 2 congressmen, and in no instance a name known across the river. But one college-man.Ⓐalteration in the MS
Wales McCormick. J—s H. C.
Dick Rutter.
PetⒶalteration in the MS McMurry. His medicine bottle—greasy auburnⒶemendation hair—Cuba sixes. Quincy. Family. Stove store.
Bill League. Married the gravestone-cutter's daughter. “Courier.” Became its proprietor. Made it a daily and prosperous. Children. Died.
The two young sailors—Irish.
Urban E. Hicks. Saw Jenny Lind. Went to Oregon; served in Indian war.
Jim Wolf. The practical jokes. Died.
Letitia Honeyman. School. Married a showy stranger. Turned out to be a thief and swindler. She and her baby waited while he served a long term. At the end of it her youth was gone, and her cheery ways.
Sam. Lost an arm in the war. Became a policeman.
Pavey. “Pigtail done.” A lazy, vile-tempered old hellion. His wife and daughters did all the work and were atrociously treated. Pole—went to St Louis. Gone six months—came back a striker, with wages, the envy of everybody. Drove his girl Sunday in buggy from Shoot's stable, $1.50 a day. Introduced poker—cent ante. Became second engineer. Married a pretty little fat child in St. Louis. Got drowned.
[begin page 34]Becky. Came up from St Louis a sweet and pretty young thing—caused many heart-breaks. Silver pencil—$1.50—she didn't care for it. Davis a widower, married her sister Josephine, and Becky married Davis's son. They went to Texas. Disappeared. The “long dog.”
The other sisters married—Mrs. Strong went to Peoria. One of them was Mrs. Shoot—married at 13, daughter (Mrs. Hayward) born at 14. Mrs. Hayward's daughter tried the stage at home, then at Daly's, didn'tⒶalteration in the MS succeedⒶalteration in the MS. Finally a pushing and troublesome London newspaper correspondent.
Jim Foreman. Clerk. Pomeroy Benton & Co. Handkerchief.
Mrs. Sexton (she pronounced it Saxton to make it finer, the nice, kind-hearted, smirky, smily dear Christian creature—Methodist.)
Margaret. Pretty child of 14. Boarders in 1844 house. Simon and Hartley, rivals. Mrs. S. talkedⒶalteration in the MS much of N-YorliunsⒶalteration in the MS; and hints and sighs of better days there, departed never to return. Sunday-school.
CloakⒶemendation of the time, flung back, lined with bright plaid. Worn with a swagger. Most rational garment that ever was.
Slouch hat, worn gallusly.
Hoop-skirts coming in.
Literature. Byron, Scott, Cooper, Marryatt, BozⒶalteration in the MS. Pirates and Knights preferred to other society.Ⓐalteration in the MS Songs tended to regrets for bygone days and vanished joys: Oft in the Stilly Night; Last Rose of Summer;ⒶemendationⒶalteration in the MS The Last Link; Bonny Doon; Old Dog Tray; for the lady I love will soon be a brideⒶalteration in the MS;Ⓐemendation Gaily the Troubadour;Ⓐemendation Bright Alforata.Ⓐalteration in the MSⒶtextual note
Negro Melodies the same trend: Old Kentucky Home; (de day goes by like a shadow on de wall, wid sorrow where all was delight;) Massa's in de Cold Ground; Swanee River.Ⓐemendation
The gushing Crusaders admired; the serenade was a survival or a result of this literature.
Any young person would have been proud of a “strain” of Indian blood. Bright Alforata of the blue Juniata got her strain from “a far distant fount.”
[begin page 35]All that sentimentality and romance among young folk seem puerile, now, but when one examines it and compares it with the ideals of to-day, it was the preferable thing. It was soft, sappy, melancholy; but money had no place in it. To get rich was no one's ambition—it was not in any young person's thoughts. The heroes of these young people—even the pirates—were moved by lofty impulses: they waded in blood, in the distant fields of war and adventure and upon the pirate deck, to rescue the helpless, not to make money; they spent their blood and made their self-sacrifices for “honor's” sake, not to capture a giant fortune; they married for love, not for money and position. It was an intensely sentimental age, but itⒶalteration in the MS took no sordid form. The Californian rush for wealth in '49 introduced the change and begot the lust for money which is the rule of life to-day, and the hardness and cynicism which is the spirit of to-day.
The three “rich” men were not worshiped, and not envied. They were not arrogant, nor assertive, nor tyrannical, nor exigentⒶemendation. It was California that changed the spirit of the people and lowered their ideals to the plane of to-day.
Unbeliever. There was but one—Blennerhasset, the young Kentucky lawyer, a fascinating cuss—and they shuddered to hear him talk. They expected a judgment to fall upon him at any moment. They believed the devil would come for him in person some stormy night.
He was very profane, and blasphemous. He was vain of being prayed for in the revivals; vain of being singled out for this honor always by every new revivalist; vain of the competition between these people for his capture; vain that it was the ambition of each in his turn to hang this notable scalp at his belt.Ⓐemendation The young ladies were ambitious to convert him.
Chastity. There was the utmost liberty among young people—but no young girl was ever insulted, or seduced, or even scandalously gossiped about. Such things were not even dreamed of in that society, much less spoken of and referred to as possibilities.
Two or three times, in the lapse of years, married women were whispered about, but never an unmarried one.
[begin page 36]Ouseley. Prosperous merchant. Smoked fragrant cigars—regalias—5 apiece. Killed old Smar. Acquitted. His party brought him huzzaing in from Palmyra at midnight. But there was a cloud upon him—a social chill—and he presently moved away.
The Hanged Nigger. He raped and murdered a girl of 13 in the woods. He confessed to forcing 3 young women in Va, and was brought away in a feather bed to save his life—which was a valuable property.
The Stabbed Cal. Emigrant. Saw him.
Judge Carpenter knocked Mac Donald down with a mallet and saved Charley Schneider. Mac in return came near shooting Col. Elgin in the back of the head.
Clint Levering drowned. His less fortunate brother lived to have a family and be rich and respected.
Garth. Presbyterians. Tobacco. Eventually rich. David, teacher in S. school. Later, Supt.
John. Mrs. Horr and the others. He removed to New York and became a broker, and prosperous. Returned, and brought Helen KerchevalⒶalteration in the MS to Brooklyn in '68. Presently went back to St P. and remained. Banker, rich. Raised 2 beautiful daughters and a son.
Old Kercheval the tailor. Helen did not like his trade to be referred to.
His apprentice saved Simon Carpenter's life—aged 9—from drowning, and was cursedⒶalteration in the MS for it by Simon for 50 years.
Daily Packet Service to Keokuk. The merchants—envied by all the untraveled town—made trips to the great city (of 30,000 souls). St. L papers had pictures of Planters House, and sometimes an engraved letter-head had a picture of the city front, with the boats sardined at the wharf and the modestⒶalteration in the MS spire of the little Cath Cathedral showing prominently; and at last when a minor citizen realized the dream of his life and traveled to St. Louis, he was thrilled to the marrow when he recognized the rank of boats and the spire and the Planters, and was amazed at the accuracy of the pictures and at the fact that the things were realities and not inventions of the imagination. He talked St Louis, and nothing but S L and its wonders for months and months afterward. “Call that a [begin page 37] fire-uniform! you ought to see a turn-out in St L.—blocks and blocks and blocksⒶemendation of red shirts and helmets, and more engines and hosecarts and hook and ladder Co's—my!”
4th July. Banners. Declaration and Spreadeagle speech in public square. Procession—Sunday schools, MasonsⒶalteration in the MS, Odd Fellows, Temperance Society, Cadets of Temperance, the Co of St P Greys, the Fantastics (oh, so funny!) and of course the Fire Co and Sam R. Maybe in the woods. Collation in the cool shade of a tent. Gingerbread in slabs; lemonade; ice cream. Opened with prayer—closed with a blessing.
Circus.
Mesmerizer.
Nigger Show. (the swell pet tenor) Prendergast
Bell-Ringers (Swiss)
Debating Society.
National Intelligencer. Dr. PeakeⒶemendation.
St. L. Republican.
Old Pitts, the saddler. Always rushed wildly down street putting on coat as he went—rushed aboard—nothing for him, of course.
John Hannicks, with the laugh. See black smoke rising beyond point—“Steeammmboat a coming!” Laugh. Rattle his dray.
Bill Pitts, saddler, succeeded his father.
Ben Coontz—sent a son to W. Point.
Glover (protégéⒶemendation of old T. K. Collins) really did become a famous lawyer in St L., but St P always said he was a fool and nothing to him.
The Mock Duel.
Lavinia Honeyman captured “celebrated” circus-rider—envied for the unexampled brilliancy of the match—but he got into the penitentiary at Jefferson City and the romance was spoiled.
Ratcliffes. One son lived in a bark hut up at the still house branch and at intervals came home at night and emptied the larder. Back door left open purposely; if notice was taken of him he would not come.
Another son had to be locked into a small house in corner of the [begin page 38] yard—and chained. Fed through a hole. Would not wear clothes, winter or summer. Could not have fire. Religious mania. Believed his left hand had committed a mortal sin and must be sacrificed. Got hold of a hatchet, nobody knows how, and chopped it off. Escaped and chased his stepmother all over the house with carving knife. The father arrived and rescued her. He seemed to be afraid of his father, and could be cowed by him, but by no one else. He died in that small house.
One son became a fine physician and in California ventured to marry; but went mad and finished his days in the asylum. The old Dr., dying, said, “Don't cry; rejoice—shout. This is the only valuable day I have known in my 65 years.” His grandfather's generation had been madmen—then the disease skipped to his. He said Nature laid a trap for him: slyly allowed all his children to be born beforeⒶalteration in the MS exposing the taint.
Blennerhasset enlarged upon it and said Nature was always treacherous—did not single him out, but spared nobody.
B. went to K. to get married. All present at the wedding but himself. Shame and grief of the bride; indignation of the rest. A yearⒶalteration in the MS later he would be foundⒶemendation—bridally clad—shut into the familyⒶalteration in the MS vault in the graveyard—spring lockⒶalteration in the MS and the key on the outside. His mother had but one pet and he was the one—because he was an infidel and the target of bitter public opinion. He always visited her tomb when at home, but the others didn't. So the judgment hit him at last. He was found when they came to bury a sister. There had been a theft of money in the town, and people managed to suspect him; but it was not found on him.
Judge Carpenter. Married in Lexington in '23; he 24, his wife 20. She married him to spite young Dr. Ray, to whom she was engaged, and who wouldn't go to a neighboring townⒶalteration in the MS, 9 miles, in the short hours of the night, to bring her home from a ball.
He was a small storekeeper. Removed to Jamestown and kept a store. Entered 75,000 acres of land (oil land, later). Three children born there. The stray calf.
Removed to village of Florida. M. born there—died at 10.Ⓐalteration in the MS Small [begin page 39] storekeeper. Then to St P middle of 1838. Rest of the family born there—Han and B. died there. The mother made the children feel the cheek of the dead boy, and tried to make them understand the calamity that had befallen. The case of memorable treachery.
Still a small storekeeper—but progressing. Then Ira Stout, who got him to go security for a large sum, “took the benefitⒶalteration in the MS of the bankrupt law” and ruined him—in fact made a pauper of him.
Became justice of the peace and lived on its meagre pickings.
Stern, unsmiling, never demonstrated affection for wife or child. Had found out he had been married to spite another man. Silent, austere, of perfect probity and high principle; ungentle of manner toward his children, but always a gentleman in his phrasing—and never punished them—a look was enough, and more than enough.
Had but one slave—she wanted to be sold to Beebe, and was. He sold her down the river. Was seen, years later, ch. on steamboat. Cried and lamented. Judge whipped her once, for impudence to his wife—whipped her with a bridle.
It was remembered that he went to church—once; never again. His family were abandoned Presbyterians. What his notions about religion were, no one ever knew. He never mentioned the matter; offered no remarks when others discussed it. Whoever tried to drag a remark out of him failed; got a courteous answer or a look which discouraged further effort, and that person understood, and never approached the matter again.
If he had intimates at all, it was Peake and Draper. Peake was very old in the 40s, and wore high stock, pigtail and up to '40, still wore kneebreeches and buckle-shoes. A courtly gentleman of the old School—a Virginian, like Judge C.
Judge C. was elected County Judge by a great majority in '49, and at last saw great prosperity before him. But of course caught his death the first day he opened court. He went home with pneumonia, 12 miles, horseback, winter—and in a fortnight was dead. First instance of affection: discovering that he was dying, chose his daughter from among the weepers, who were kneeling about the room and crying—and motioned her to come to him. Drew her [begin page 40] down to him, with his arms about her neckⒶemendation, kissed her (for the first time, no doubt,) and said “Let me die”—and sunk back and the death rattle came. Ten minutes before, the Pres. preacher had said, “Do you believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and that through his blood only you can be saved?” “I do.” Then the preacher prayed over him and recommended him. He did not say good-bye to his wife, or to any but his daughter.
The autopsy.
Jimmy Reagan, from St Louis.
Carey Briggs, from Galena and also from Bayou Lafourche.
Priscella. Old maid at 25, married W. Moffett, mouldy old bachelor of 35—a St L commissionⒶalteration in the MS merchant and well off. He died 1865Ⓐalteration in the MS, rich ($20,000) leaving little boy and girl.
Oscar. Born Jamestown, 1825. About 1842, aged 17, went to St. L to learn to be a printer, in Ustick's job office.
At 18, wrote home to his mother, that he was studying the life of Franklin and closely imitating him; that in his boarding house he was confining himself to bread and water; and was trying
In two instances the editorial practices followed in printing “Villagers” depart slightly from the procedures followed throughout this volume. Where Clemens misspells proper names which he spells correctly elsewhere in this manuscript, such as the variant “Peak” for “Peake” (p. 37.16), the spelling has been corrected. If, however, there is no other evidence in the manuscript that Clemens remembered the correct spelling, for instance when he wrote “Ouseley” (p. 36.1) though he certainly referred to “Owsley,” the manuscript spelling has been retained. The historically correct spelling is then supplied in Appendix A.
Clemens's frequent practice of writing “St L” for St. Louis and “St P” for St. Petersburg has also been allowed to stand. “St” has been rendered with or without a period as the author wrote it.
Albert Bigelow Paine penciled three corrections into the manuscript. He interlined “Clemens” above “Carpenter” (p. 38.28); changed the year “1838” to “1839” (p. 39.1); and added a necessary “be” to Clemens's sentence (p. 38.20). This last change has been incorporated into the text as an emendation. The former two have been ignored.