But even so able a man as Henry Rogers could not accomplish the
impossible. The affairs of the Webster Company were hopeless, the
business was not worth saving. By Mr. Rogers's advice an assignment
was made April, 18, 1894. After its early spectacular success less
than ten years had brought the business to failure. The publication
of the Grant memoirs had been its only great achievement.
Clemens would seem to have believed that the business would resume,
and for a time Rogers appears to have comforted him in his hope, but
we cannot believe that it long survived. Young Hall, who had made
such a struggle for its salvation, was eager to go on, but he must
presently have seen the futility of any effort in that direction.
Of course the failure of Mark Twain's firm made a great stir in the
country, and it is easy to understand that loyal friends would rally
in his behalf.
*****
To Mrs. Clemens, in Paris:
April 22, '94.
Dear old darling, we all think the creditors are going to allow us to
resume business; and if they do we shall pull through and pay the debts.
I am prodigiously glad we made an assignment. And also glad that we did
not make it sooner. Earlier we should have made a poor showing; but now
we shall make a good one.
I meet flocks of people, and they all shake me cordially by the hand and
say “I was so sorry to hear of the assignment, but so glad you did it.
It was around, this long time, that the concern was tottering, and all
your friends were afraid you would delay the assignment too long.”
John Mackay called yesterday, and said, “Don't let it disturb you,
Sam--we all have to do it, at one time or another; it's nothing to be
ashamed of.”
One stranger out in New York State sent me a dollar bill and thought
he would like to get up a dollar-subscription for me. And Poultney
Bigelow's note came promptly, with his check for $1,000. I had been
meeting him every day at the Club and liking him better and better
all the time. I couldn't take his money, of course, but I thanked him
cordially for his good will.
Now and then a good and dear Joe Twichell or Susy Warner condoles with
me and says “Cheer up--don't be downhearted,” and some other friend
says, “I am glad and surprised to see how cheerful you are and how
bravely you stand it”--and none of them suspect what a burden has been
lifted from me and how blithe I am inside. Except when I think of you,
dear heart--then I am not blithe; for I seem to see you grieving and
ashamed, and dreading to look people in the face. For in the thick of
the fight there is cheer, but you are far away and cannot hear the drums
nor see the wheeling squadrons. You only seem to see rout, retreat, and
dishonored colors dragging in the dirt--whereas none of these things
exist. There is temporary defeat, but no dishonor--and we will march
again. Charley Warner said to-day, “Sho, Livy isn't worrying. So long as
she's got you and the children she doesn't care what happens. She knows
it isn't her affair.” Which didn't convince me.
Good bye my darling, I love you and all of the kids--and you can tell
Clara I am not a spitting gray kitten.