The boy Henry was troubled, but the boy Joe said, inaudibly, and gratefully, “We’re all honky, after all; and no postponement on account of the weather.”
CHAPTER VIII. BAPTISM OF THE BETTER HALF
By nine o’clock the town was humming with the news of the midnight duel, and there were but two opinions about it: one, that Luigi’s pluck in the field was most praiseworthy and Angelo’s flight most scandalous; the other, that Angelo’s courage in flying the field for conscience’ sake was as fine and creditable as was Luigi’s in holding the field in the face of the bullets. The one opinion was held by half of the town, the other one was maintained by the other half. The division was clean and exact, and it made two parties, an Angelo party and a Luigi party. The twins had suddenly become popular idols along with Pudd’nhead Wilson, and haloed with a glory as intense as his. The children talked the duel all the way to Sunday-school, their elders talked it all the way to church, the choir discussed it behind their red curtain, it usurped the place of pious thought in the “nigger gallery.”
By noon the doctor had added the news, and spread it, that Count Angelo, in spite of his wound and all warnings and supplications, was resolute in his determination to be baptized at the hour appointed. This swept the town like wildfire, and mightily reinforced the enthusiasm of the Angelo faction, who said, “If any doubted that it was moral courage that took him from the field, what have they to say now!”
Still the excitement grew. All the morning it was traveling countryward, toward all points of the compass; so, whereas before only the farmers and their wives were intending to come and witness the remarkable baptism, a general holiday was now proclaimed and the children and negroes admitted to the privileges of the occasion. All the farms for ten miles around were vacated, all the converging roads emptied long processions of wagons, horses, and yeomanry into the town. The pack and cram of people vastly exceeded any that had ever been seen in that sleepy region before. The only thing that had ever even approached it, was the time long gone by, but never forgotten, nor even referred to without wonder and pride, when two circuses and a Fourth of July fell together. But the glory of that occasion was extinguished now for good. It was but a freshet to this deluge.
The great invasion massed itself on the river-bank and waited hungrily for the immense event. Waited, and wondered if it would really happen, or if the twin who was not a “professor” would stand out and prevent it.
But they were not to be disappointed. Angelo was as good as his word. He came attended by an escort of honor composed of several hundred of the best citizens, all of the Angelo party; and when the immersion was finished they escorted him back home and would even have carried him on their shoulders, but that people might think they were carrying Luigi.
Far into the night the citizens continued to discuss and wonder over the strangely mated pair of incidents that had distinguished and exalted the past twenty-four hours above any other twenty-four in the history of their town for picturesqueness and splendid interest; and long before the lights were out and burghers asleep it had been decided on all hands that in capturing these twins Dawson’s Landing had drawn a prize in the great lottery of municipal fortune.
At midnight Angelo was sleeping peacefully. His immersion had not harmed him, it had merely made him wholesomely drowsy, and he had been dead asleep many hours now. It had made Luigi drowsy, too, but he had got only brief naps, on account of his having to take the medicine every three-quarters of an hour-and Aunt Betsy Hale was there to see that he did it. When he complained and resisted, she was quietly firm with him, and said in a low voice:
“No-no, that won’t do; you mustn’t talk, and you mustn’t retch and gag that way, either – you’ll wake up your poor brother.”
“Well, what of it, Aunt Betsy, he – ”
“‘Sh-h! Don’t make a noise dear. You mustn’t forget that your poor brother is sick and – ”
“Sick, is he? Well, I wish I – ”
“‘Sh-h-h! Will you be quiet, Luigi! Here, now, take the rest of it – don’t keep me holding the dipper all night. I declare if you haven’t left a good fourth of it in the bottom! Come – that’s a good —
“Aunt Betsy, don’t make me! I feel like I’ve swallowed a cemetery; I do, indeed. Do let me rest a little – just a little; I can’t take any more of the devilish stuff now.”
“Luigi! Using such language here, and him just baptized! Do you want the roof to fall on you?”
“I wish to goodness it would!”
“Why, you dreadful thing! I’ve a good notion to – let that blanket alone; do you want your brother to catch his death?”
“Aunt Betsy, I’ve got to have it off, I’m being roasted alive; nobody could stand it – you couldn’t yourself.”
“Now, then, you’re sneezing again – I just expected it.”
“Because I’ve caught a cold in my head. I always do, when I go in the water with my clothes on. And it takes me weeks to get over it, too. I think it was a shame to serve me so.”
“Luigi, you are unreasonable; you know very well they couldn’t baptize him dry. I should think you would be willing to undergo a little inconvenience for your brother’s sake.”
“Inconvenience! Now how you talk, Aunt Betsy. I came as near as anything to getting drowned you saw that yourself; and do you call this inconvenience? – the room shut up as tight as a drum, and so hot the mosquitoes are trying to get out; and a cold in the head, and dying for sleep and no chance to get any – on account of this infamous medicine that that assassin prescri – ”
“There, you’re sneezing again. I’m going down and mix some more of this truck for you, dear.”
CHAPTER IX. THE DRINKLESS DRUNK
During Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday the twins grew steadily worse; but then the doctor was summoned South to attend his mother’s funeral, and they got well in forty-eight hours. They appeared on the street on Friday, and were welcomed with enthusiasm by the new-born parties, the Luigi and Angelo factions. The Luigi faction carried its strength into the Democratic party, the Angelo faction entered into a combination with the Whigs. The Democrats nominated Luigi for alderman under the new city government, and the Whigs put up Angelo against him. The Democrats nominated Pudd’nhead Wilson for mayor, and he was left alone in this glory, for the Whigs had no man who was willing to enter the lists against such a formidable opponent. No politician had scored such a compliment as this before in the history of the Mississippi Valley.
The political campaign in Dawson’s Landing opened in a pretty warm fashion, and waxed hotter every week. Luigi’s whole heart was in it, and even Angelo developed a surprising amount of interest-which was natural, because he was not merely representing Whigism, a matter of no consequence to him; but he was representing something immensely finer and greater – to wit, Reform. In him was centered the hopes of the whole reform element of the town; he was the chosen and admired champion of every clique that had a pet reform of any sort or kind at heart. He was president of the great Teetotalers’ Union, its chiefest prophet and mouthpiece.
But as the canvass went on, troubles began to spring up all around – troubles for the twins, and through them for all the parties and segments and fractions of parties. Whenever Luigi had possession of the legs, he carried Angelo to balls, rum shops, Sons of Liberty parades, horse-races, campaign riots, and everywhere else that could damage him with his party and the church; and when it was Angelo’s week he carried Luigi diligently to all manner of moral and religious gatherings, doing his best to regain the ground he had lost before. As a result of these double performances, there was a storm blowing all the time, an ever-rising storm, too – a storm of frantic criticism of the twins, and rage over their extravagant, incomprehensible conduct.
Luigi had the final chance. The legs were his for the closing week of the canvass. He led his brother a fearful dance.
But he saved his best card for the very eve of the election. There was to be a grand turnout of the Teetotalers’ Union that day, and Angelo was to march at the head of the procession and deliver a great oration afterward. Luigi drank a couple of glasses of whisky – which steadied his nerves and clarified his mind, but made Angelo drunk. Everybody who saw the march, saw that the Champion of the Teetotalers was half seas over, and noted also that his brother, who made no hypocritical pretensions to extra temperance virtues, was dignified and sober. This eloquent fact could not be unfruitful at the end of a hot political canvass. At the mass-meeting Angelo tried to make his great temperance oration, but was so discommoded – by hiccoughs and thickness of tongue that he had to give it up; then drowsiness overtook him and his head drooped against Luigi’s and he went to sleep. Luigi apologized for him, and was going on to improve his opportunity with an appeal for a moderation of what he called “the prevailing teetotal madness,” but persons in the audience began to howl and throw things at him, and then the meeting rose in wrath and chased him home.
This episode was a crusher for Angelo in another way. It destroyed his chances with Rowena. Those chances had been growing, right along, for two months. Rowena had partly confessed that she loved him, but wanted time to consider. Now the tender dream was ended, and she told him so the moment he was sober enough to understand. She said she would never marry a man who drank.
“But I don’t drink,” he pleaded.
“That is nothing to the point,” she said, coldly, “you get drunk, and that is worse.”
[There was a long and sufficiently idiotic discussion here, which ended as reported in a previous note.]
CHAPTER X. SO THEY HANGED LUIGI
Dawson’s Landing had a week of repose, after the election, and it needed it, for the frantic and variegated nightmare which had tormented it all through the preceding week had left it limp, haggard, and exhausted at the end. It got the week of repose because Angelo had the legs, and was in too subdued a condition to want to go out and mingle with an irritated community that had come to distrust and detest him because there was such a lack of harmony between his morals, which were confessedly excellent, and his methods of illustrating them, which were distinctly damnable. The new city officers were sworn in on the following Monday – at least all but Luigi. There was a complication in his case. His election was conceded, but he could not sit in the board of aldermen without his brother, and his brother could not sit there because he was not a member. There seemed to be no way out of the difficulty but to carry the matter into the courts, so this was resolved upon.
The case was set for the Monday fortnight. In due course the time arrived. In the mean time the city government had been at a standstill, because without Luigi there was a tie in the board of aldermen, whereas with him the liquor interest – the richest in the political field – would have one majority. But the court decided that Angelo could not sit in the board with him, either in public or executive sessions, and at the same time forbade the board to deny admission to Luigi, a fairly and legally chosen alderman. The case was carried up and up from court to court, yet still the same old original decision was confirmed every time. As a result, the city government not only stood still, with its hands tied, but everything it was created to protect and care for went a steady gait toward rack and ruin. There was no way to levy a tax, so the minor officials had to resign or starve; therefore they resigned. There being no city money, the enormous legal expenses on both sides had to be defrayed by private subscription. But at last the people came to their senses, and said:
“Pudd’nhead was right at the start – we ought to have hired the official half of that human phillipene to resign; but it’s too late now; some of us haven’t got anything left to hire him with.”
“Yes, we have,” said another citizen, “we’ve got this” – and he produced a halter.
Many shouted: “That’s the ticket.” But others said: “No – Count Angelo is innocent; we mustn’t hang him.”
“Who said anything about hanging him? We are only going to hang the other one.”
“Then that is all right – there is no objection to that.”
So they hanged Luigi. And so ends the history of “Those Extraordinary Twins.”
FINAL REMARKS
As you see, it was an extravagant sort of a tale, and had no purpose but to exhibit that monstrous “freak” in all sorts of grotesque lights. But when Roxy wandered into the tale she had to be furnished with something to do; so she changed the children in the cradle; this necessitated the invention of a reason for it; this, in turn, resulted in making the children prominent personages – nothing could prevent it of course. Their career began to take a tragic aspect, and some one had to be brought in to help work the machinery; so Pudd’nhead Wilson was introduced and taken on trial. By this time the whole show was being run by the new people and in their interest, and the original show was become side-tracked and forgotten; the twin-monster, and the heroine, and the lads, and the old ladies had dwindled to inconsequentialities and were merely in the way. Their story was one story, the new people’s story was another story, and there was no connection between them, no interdependence, no kinship. It is not practicable or rational to try to tell two stories at the same time; so I dug out the farce and left the tragedy.
The reader already knew how the expert works; he knows now how the other kind do it.
MARK TWAIN.