by Mark Twain
ROGERS
This Man Rogers happened upon me and introduced himself at the town of-----, in the South of England, where I stayed awhile. His stepfatherhad married a distant relative of mine who was afterward hanged; and sohe seemed to think a blood relationship existed between us. He camein every day and sat down and talked. Of all the bland, serene humancuriosities I ever saw, I think he was the chiefest. He desired to lookat my new chimney-pot hat. I was very willing, for I thought he wouldnotice the name of the great Oxford Street hatter in it, and respectme accordingly. But he turned it about with a sort of grave compassion,pointed out two or three blemishes, and said that I, being so recentlyarrived, could not be expected to know where to supply myself. Said hewould send me the address of his hatter. Then he said, "Pardon me," andproceeded to cut a neat circle of red tissue paper; daintily notched theedges of it; took the mucilage and pasted it in my hat so as to coverthe manufacturer's name. He said, "No one will know now where you gotit. I will send you a hat-tip of my hatter, and you can paste it overthis tissue circle." It was the calmest, coolest thing--I never admireda man so much in my life. Mind, he did this while his own hat satoffensively near our noses, on the table--an ancient extinguisher ofthe "slouch" pattern, limp and shapeless with age, discolored byvicissitudes of the weather, and banded by an equator of bear's greasethat had stewed through.
Another time he examined my coat. I had no terrors, for over my tailor'sdoor was the legend, "By Special Appointment Tailor to H. R. H. thePrince of Wales," etc. I did not know at the time that the most ofthe tailor shops had the same sign out, and that whereas it takes ninetailors to make an ordinary man, it takes a hundred and fifty to make aprince. He was full of compassion for my coat. Wrote down the addressof his tailor for me. Did not tell me to mention my nom de plume and thetailor would put his best work on my garment, as complimentary peoplesometimes do, but said his tailor would hardly trouble himself for anunknown person (unknown person, when I thought I was so celebrated inEngland!--that was the cruelest cut), but cautioned me to mention hisname, and it would be all right. Thinking to be facetious, I said:--
"But he might sit up all night and injure his health."
"Well, let him," said Rogers; "I've done enough for him, for him to showsome appreciation of it."
I might as well have tried to disconcert a mummy with my facetiousness.Said Rogers: "I get all my coats there--they're the only coats fit to beseen in."
I made one more attempt. I said, "I wish you had brought one with you--Iwould like to look at it."
"Bless your heart, haven't I got one on?--this article is Morgan'smake."
I examined it. The coat had been bought ready-made, of a Chatham StreetJew, without any question--about 1848. It probably cost four dollarswhen it was new. It was ripped, it was frayed, it was napless andgreasy. I could not resist showing him where it was ripped. It soaffected him that I was almost sorry I had done it. First he seemedplunged into a bottomless abyss of grief. Then he roused himself, madea feint with his hands as if waving off the pity of a nation, andsaid--with what seemed to me a manufactured emotion--"No matter; nomatter; don't mind me; do not bother about it. I can get another."
When he was thoroughly restored, so that he could examine the rip andcommand his feelings, he said, ah, now he understood it--his servantmust have done it while dressing him that morning.
His servant! There was something awe-inspiring in effrontery like this.
Nearly every day he interested himself in some article of my clothing.One would hardly have expected this sort of infatuation in a man whoalways wore the same suit, and it a suit that seemed coeval with theConquest.
It was an unworthy ambition, perhaps, but I did wish I could make thisman admire something about me or something I did--you would have feltthe same way. I saw my opportunity: I was about to return to London,and had "listed" my soiled linen for the wash. It made quite an imposingmountain in the corner of the room--fifty-four pieces. I hoped he wouldfancy it was the accumulation of a single week. I took up the wash-list,as if to see that it was all right, and then tossed it on the table,with pretended forgetfulness. Sure enough, he took it up and ran hiseye along down to the grand total. Then he said, "You get off easy," andlaid it down again.
His gloves were the saddest ruin, but he told me where I could get somelike them. His shoes would hardly hold walnuts without leaking, but heliked to put his feet up on the mantelpiece and contemplate them.He wore a dim glass breastpin, which he called a "morphyliticdiamond"--whatever that may mean--and said only two of them had everbeen found--the Emperor of China had the other one.
Afterward, in London, it was a pleasure to me to see this fantasticvagabond come marching into the lobby of the hotel in his grand-ducalway, for he always had some new imaginary grandeur to develop--therewas nothing stale about him but his clothes. If he addressed me whenstrangers were about, he always raised his voice a little and called me"Sir Richard," or "General," or "Your Lordship"--and when people beganto stare and look deferential, he would fall to inquiring in a casualway why I disappointed the Duke of Argyll the night before; and thenremind me of our engagement at the Duke of Westminster's for thefollowing day. I think that for the time being these things wererealities to him. He once came and invited me to go with him and spendthe evening with the Earl of Warwick at his town house. I said I hadreceived no formal invitation. He said that that was of no consequence,the Earl had no formalities for him or his friends. I asked if I couldgo just as I was. He said no, that would hardly do; evening dress wasrequisite at night in any gentleman's house. He said he would wait whileI dressed, and then we would go to his apartments and I could take abottle of champagne and a cigar while he dressed. I was very willing tosee how this enterprise would turn out, so I dressed, and we started tohis lodgings. He said if I didn't mind we would walk. So we tramped somefour miles through the mud and fog, and finally found his "apartments";they consisted of a single room over a barber's shop in a back street.Two chairs, a small table, an ancient valise, a wash-basin and pitcher(both on the floor in a corner), an unmade bed, a fragment of alooking-glass, and a flower-pot, with a perishing little rose geraniumin it, which he called a century plant, and said it had not bloomed nowfor upward of two centuries--given to him by the late LordPalmerston--(been offered a prodigious sum for it)--these werethe contents of the room. Also a brass candlestick and a part of acandle. Rogers lit the candle, and told me to sit down and make myselfat home. He said he hoped I was thirsty, because he would surprise mypalate with an article of champagne that seldom got into a commoner'ssystem; or would I prefer sherry, or port? Said he had port in bottlesthat were swathed in stratified cobwebs, every stratum representing ageneration. And as for his cigars--well, I should judge of themmyself. Then he put his head out at the door and called:
"Sackville!" No answer.
"Hi-Sackville!" No answer.
"Now what the devil can have become of that butler? I never allow aservant to--Oh, confound that idiot, he's got the keys. Can't get intothe other rooms without the keys."
(I was just wondering at his intrepidity in still keeping up thedelusion of the champagne, and trying to imagine how he was going to getout of the difficulty.)
Now he stopped calling Sackville and began to call "Anglesy." ButAnglesy didn't come. He said, "This is the second time that that equerryhas been absent without leave. To-morrow I'll discharge him." Nowhe began to whoop for "Thomas," but Thomas didn't answer. Then for"Theodore," but no Theodore replied.
"Well, I give it up," said Rogers. "The servants never expect me atthis hour, and so they're all off on a lark. Might get along withoutthe equerry and the page, but can't have any wine or cigars without thebutler, and can't dress without my valet."
I offered to help him dress, but he would not hear of it; and besides,he said he would not feel comfortable unless dressed by a practisedhand. However, he finally concluded that he was such old friends withthe Earl that it would not make any difference how he was dressed. So wetook a
cab, he gave the driver some directions, and we started. By andby we stopped before a large house and got out. I never had seen thisman with a collar on. He now stepped under a lamp and got a venerablepaper collar out of his coat pocket, along with a hoary cravat, and putthem on. He ascended the stoop, and entered. Presently he reappeared,descended rapidly, and said:
"Come--quick!"
We hurried away, and turned the corner.
"Now we're safe," he said, and took off his collar and cravat andreturned them to his pocket.
"Made a mighty narrow escape," said he.
"How?" said I.
"B' George, the Countess was there!"
"Well, what of that?--don't she know you?"
"Know me? Absolutely worships me. I just did happen to catch a glimpseof her before she saw me--and out I shot. Haven't seen her for twomonths--to rush in on her without any warning might have been fatal. Shecould not have stood it. I didn't know she was in town--thought shewas at the castle. Let me lean on you--just a moment--there; now Iam better--thank you; thank you ever so much. Lord bless me, what anescape!"
So I never got to call on the Earl, after all. But I marked the housefor future reference. It proved to be an ordinary family hotel, withabout a thousand plebeians roosting in it.
In most things Rogers was by no means a fool. In some things it wasplain enough that he was a fool, but he certainly did not know it. Hewas in the "deadest" earnest in these matters. He died at sea, lastsummer, as the "Earl of Ramsgate."