The Complete Works of Mark Twain. Mark Twain
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taking a deal of unnecessary pains, for a body to hire another body to construct a great speech for him and then go and get still another body to copy it before it can be read in the House.”
“Miss Hawkins, what do you mean by such talk as that?”
“Why I am sure I mean no harm — no harm to anybody in the world. I am certain that I overheard the Hon. Mr. Buckstone either promise to write your great speech for you or else get some other competent person to do it.”
“This is perfectly absurd, madam, perfectly absurd!” and Mr. Trollop affected a laugh of derision.
“Why, the thing has occurred before now. I mean that I have heard that Congressmen have sometimes hired literary grubs to build speeches for them. — Now didn’t I overhear a conversation like that I spoke of?”
“Pshaw! Why of course you may have overheard some such jesting nonsense. But would one be in earnest about so farcical a thing?”
“Well if it was only a joke, why did you make a serious matter of it? Why did you get the speech written for you, and then read it in the House without ever having it copied?”
Mr. Trollop did not laugh this time; he seemed seriously perplexed. He said:
“Come, play out your jest, Miss Hawkins. I can’t understand what you are contriving — but it seems to entertain you — so please, go on.”
“I will, I assure you; but I hope to make the matter entertaining to you, too. Your private secretary never copied your speech.”
“Indeed? Really you seem to know my affairs better than I do myself.”
“I believe I do. You can’t name your own amanuensis, Mr. Trollop.”
“That is sad, indeed. Perhaps Miss Hawkins can?”
“Yes, I can. I wrote your speech myself, and you read it from my manuscript. There, now!”
Mr. Trollop did not spring to his feet and smite his brow with his hand while a cold sweat broke out all over him and the color forsook his face — no, he only said, “Good God!” and looked greatly astonished.
Laura handed him her commonplace-book and called his attention to the fact that the handwriting there and the handwriting of this speech were the same. He was shortly convinced. He laid the book aside and said, composedly:
“Well, the wonderful tragedy is done, and it transpires that I am indebted to you for my late eloquence. What of it? What was all this for and what does it amount to after all? What do you propose to do about it?”
“Oh nothing. It is only a bit of pleasantry. When I overheard that conversation I took an early opportunity to ask Mr. Buckstone if he knew of anybody who might want a speech written — I had a friend, and so forth and so on. I was the friend, myself; I thought I might do you a good turn then and depend on you to do me one by and by. I never let Mr. Buckstone have the speech till the last moment, and when you hurried off to the House with it, you did not know there was a missing page, of course, but I did.”
“And now perhaps you think that if I refuse to support your bill, you will make a grand exposure?”
“Well I had not thought of that. I only kept back the page for the mere fun of the thing; but since you mention it, I don’t know but I might do something if I were angry.”
“My dear Miss Hawkins, if you were to give out that you composed my speech, you know very well that people would say it was only your raillery, your fondness for putting a victim in the pillory and amusing the public at his expense. It is too flimsy, Miss Hawkins, for a person of your fine inventive talent — contrive an abler device than that. Come!”
“It is easily done, Mr. Trollop. I will hire a man, and pin this page on his breast, and label it, ‘The Missing Fragment of the Hon. Mr. Trollop’s Great Speech — which speech was written and composed by Miss Laura Hawkins under a secret understanding for one hundred dollars — and the money has not been paid.’ And I will pin round about it notes in my handwriting, which I will procure from prominent friends of mine for the occasion; also your printed speech in the Globe, showing the connection between its bracketed hiatus and my Fragment; and I give you my word of honor that I will stand that human bulletin board in the rotunda of the capitol and make him stay there a week! You see you are premature, Mr. Trollop, the wonderful tragedy is not done yet, by any means. Come, now, doesn’t it improve?”
Mr Trollop opened his eyes rather widely at this novel aspect of the case. He got up and walked the floor and gave himself a moment for reflection. Then he stopped and studied Laura’s face a while, and ended by saying:
“Well, I am obliged to believe you would be reckless enough to do that.”
“Then don’t put me to the test, Mr. Trollop. But let’s drop the matter. I have had my joke and you’ve borne the infliction becomingly enough. It spoils a jest to harp on it after one has had one’s laugh. I would much rather talk about my bill.”
“So would I, now, my clandestine amanuensis. Compared with some other subjects, even your bill is a pleasant topic to discuss.”
“Very good indeed! I thought I could persuade you. Now I am sure you will be generous to the poor negro and vote for that bill.”
“Yes, I feel more tenderly toward the oppressed colored man than I did. Shall we bury the hatchet and be good friends and respect each other’s little secrets, on condition that I vote Aye on the measure?”
“With all my heart, Mr. Trollop. I give you my word of that.”
“It is a bargain. But isn’t there something else you could give me, too?”
Laura looked at him inquiringly a moment, and then she comprehended.
“Oh, yes! You may have it now. I haven’t any more use for it.” She picked up the page of manuscript, but she reconsidered her intention of handing it to him, and said, “But never mind; I will keep it close; no one shall see it; you shall have it as soon as your vote is recorded.”
Mr. Trollop looked disappointed. But presently made his adieux, and had got as far as the hall, when something occurred to Laura. She said to herself, “I don’t simply want his vote under compulsion — he might vote aye, but work against the bill in secret, for revenge; that man is unscrupulous enough to do anything. I must have his hearty cooperation as well as his vote. There is only one way to get that.”
She called him back, and said:
“I value your vote, Mr. Trollop, but I value your influence more. You are able to help a measure along in many ways, if you choose. I want to ask you to work for the bill as well as vote for it.”
“It takes so much of one’s time, Miss Hawkins — and time is money, you know.”
“Yes, I know it is — especially in Congress. Now there is no use in you and I dealing in pretenses and going at matters in roundabout ways. We know each other — disguises are nonsense. Let us be plain. I will make it an object to you to work for the bill.”
“Don’t make it unnecessarily plain, please. There are little proprieties that are best preserved. What do you propose?”
“Well, this.” She mentioned the names of several prominent Congressmen.
“Now,” said she, “these gentlemen are to vote and work for the bill, simply out of love for the negro — and out of pure generosity I have put in a relative of each as a member of the University incorporation. They will handle a million or so of money, officially, but will receive no salaries. A larger number of statesmen are to vote and work for the bill — also out of love for the negro — gentlemen of but moderate influence, these — and out of pure generosity I am to see that relatives of theirs have positions in the University, with salaries, and good ones, too. You will vote and work for the bill, from mere affection for the negro, and I desire to testify my gratitude becomingly.