The Germ of a Book: A Footnote on Mark Twain

UNEXPECTED developments occasionally take place in the course of hospital visiting.

In the winter of 1886-1887, I was assigned duty in Charity Hospital, Blackwell’s Island, New York, as assistant to one of the chaplains of the City Mission Society. The name of the hospital has since been changed to the City Hospital, and the name of the island to Welfare Island; but in those days we accepted things as they were, and struggled along as well as we could.

My superior introduced me to the patients whom I was expected to visit. One of these new acquaintances was named Jesse Leathers. I thought that we started off on the wrong foot, for I fancied that a shade of disapproval passed over his face when he heard himself characterized as an atheist. I was glad that on my next visit his first action was a disavowal of this characterization.

Whatever he was, he had individuality. He was far gone with tuberculosis of the lungs, but he displayed an amazing amount of energy for one who was physically weak. This expressed itself in a dictatorial manner. He seemed to have been born to command. In health, he must have been of prepossessing appearance. His features were fine and regular, and his hair and eyes were brown. He was of an intellectual type. His voice, however, was harsh and strident; and when he gave orders to the nurses and attendants, no one was left in doubt that he intended to be obeyed.

On this account, he was not a favorite in the ward, and when he finally left the hospital without the approval of the physicians there were many expressions of relief; for it was taken for granted that a patient who left without authorization would not be permitted to return. He did return, however, a few days later. I found him in another ward and knew that he was present as soon as I entered; for I recognized his voice giving orders, as usual.

He was much weaker than when he left, and evidently had not long to live. He told me that he had been to see a relative in Hartford, Connecticut, and gave me the relative’s name, which I recognized. He was fully aware of his condition, and made definite arrangements for his funeral. He claimed to be in good standing as a member of the Grand Army of the Republic. I found that this was true, and saw to it that his directions in this and other respects were carried out.

After his death, curiosity led me to write to his friend in Hartford whom he claimed as a relative, and from whom I received the following letter in reply: —

HARTFORD, Feb. 12/87 REV. JOHN W. CHAPMAN — DEAR SIR: I never saw Leathers, but was acquainted with him through a forced correspondence.
He was a distant relative of mine, and I was early warned by Watterson of the Louisville Courier-Journal (another sort-ofkind-of-relative) that whereas Leathers was a good-hearted and well-meaning fellow, he was a visionary and a nuisance. Therefore I resisted all of L’s many attempts at personal contact with me — even down to his latest attempt of a few weeks ago. Ten years or more ago, I tried to get him a start in the world, but it failed. He never afterward ceased from inventing projects and trying to get me to furnish the motive power.
I dearly wanted to write a biographical sketch of him, but that would have fastened him on me permanently. Most reluctantly I gave up the idea.
He called here a few weeks ago, and sent up word that he wanted $50, and was going out to a hospital in Kansas. But I was never able to believe his statements, and I did not believe this one; otherwise I would have paid his way. I sent down $15, believing that that would carry him as far as he really intended to go. Poor fellow, I do not know how to be sorry his end is come, for he was so constituted that his life could not be made successful, and it was better for him that the struggle cease.
Can you tell me anything about him?
Yrs truly
S. L. CLEMENS

A few days later I received a second letter, as follows: —

HARTFORD, Feb. 15/87
REVEREND AND DEAR SIR: I thank you very much for your letter; it quite disposes of my doubts. I see that I was right in surmising that such a man could not be set upon his feet and made useful to himself and the world. I had had some troublesome misgivings that possibly this judgment was too hasty and sweeping. He was represented to me to be inordinately selfish and self-seeking — and not very scrupulous; his letters to me reflected this character. It is only as a failure that such a person is harmless; it would be clearly a crime against society to make him a ‘success’ in life, since this would be to add another Jay Gould to the world’s burdens. If I have had any vague regrets that I kept him aloof (and I had them), they have about disappeared now. If he were back, I would no more than merely help him to bread and clothes — and I was willing to do my share in that direction before.
I did not want to write a biography of him; I merely wanted to make a magazine sketch of his life, his general career to be merely touched upon and made the landscape out of which should rise into the clouds the monumental dream of his life (and after all, the only really tangible purpose — and therefore fact, in it), his generation-long struggle to ‘get his own’ and seat himself in the British House of Lords as the ‘rightful’ Earl of Durham! He had a sort of shadow of claim, — just enough to entirely satisfy a visionary — and there was something very striking, and pathetically and grotesquely picturesque (from a magazine point of view) about this long, and hopeless, and plucky, and foolish, and majestic fight of a foghorn against a fog. (Or, reverse that figure, perhaps.) But I wanted the history from his tongue — not his pen, or mine — and so the tale is lost to us, now. With many thanks for your kindness,
I am truly yours
S. L. CLEMENS

It is interesting to note that these letters were written several years prior to the publication of The American Claimant, which did not appear until 1892, and that the name of the claimant next in succession before the great Mulberry Sellers was given by Mr. Clemens as Simon Lathers.