Mark Twain: A Biography. Complete






CCVIII. MARK TWAIN AND THE WARS

English troubles in South Africa came to a head that autumn. On the day when England's ultimatum to the Boers expired Clemens wrote:

    LONDON, 3.07 P.m., Wednesday, October 11, 1899. The time is up!
    Without a doubt the first shot in the war is being fired to-day in
    South Africa at this moment. Some man had to be the first to fall;
    he has fallen. Whose heart is broken by this murder? For, be he
    Boer or be he Briton, it is murder, & England committed it by the
    hand of Chamberlain & the Cabinet, the lackeys of Cecil Rhodes & his
    Forty Thieves, the South Africa Company.

Mark Twain would naturally sympathize with the Boer—the weaker side, the man defending his home. He knew that for the sake of human progress England must conquer and must be upheld, but his heart was all the other way. In January, 1900, he wrote a characteristic letter to Twichell, which conveys pretty conclusively his sentiments concerning the two wars then in progress.

    DEAR JOE,—Apparently we are not proposing to set the Filipinos free
    & give their islands to them; & apparently we are not proposing to
    hang the priests & confiscate their property. If these things are
    so the war out there has no interest for me.

    I have just been examining Chapter LXX of Following the Equator to
    see if the Boer's old military effectiveness is holding out. It
    reads curiously as if it had been written about the present war.

    I believe that in the next chapter my notion of the Boer was rightly
    conceived. He is popularly called uncivilized; I do not know why.
    Happiness, food, shelter, clothing, wholesome labor, modest &
    rational ambitions, honesty, kindliness, hospitality, love of
    freedom & limitless courage to fight for it, composure & fortitude
    in time of disaster, patience in time of hardship & privation,
    absence of noise & brag in time of victory, contentment with humble
    & peaceful life void of insane excitements—if there is a higher &
    better form of civilization than this I am not aware of it & do not
    know where to look for it. I suppose that we have the habit of
    imagining that a lot of artistic & intellectual & other
    artificialities must be added or it isn't complete. We & the
    English have these latter; but as we lack the great bulk of those
    others I think the Boer civilization is the best of the two. My
    idea of our civilization is that it is a shoddy, poor thing & full
    of cruelties, vanities, arrogancies, meannesses, & hypocrisies.

    Provided we could get something better in the place of it. But that
    is not possible perhaps. Poor as it is, it is better than real
    savagery, therefore we must stand by it, extend it, & (in public)
    praise it. And so we must not utter any hurtful word about England
    in these days, nor fail to hope that she will win in this war, for
    her defeat & fall would be an irremediable disaster for the mangy
    human race. Naturally, then, I am for England; but she is
    profoundly in the wrong, Joe, & no (instructed) Englishman doubts
    it. At least that is my belief.

Writing to Howells somewhat later, he calls the conflict in South Africa, a “sordid and criminal war,” and says that every day he is writing (in his head) bitter magazine articles against it.

    But I have to stop with that. Even if wrong—& she is wrong—England
    must be upheld. He is an enemy of the human race who shall speak
    against her now. Why was the human race created? Or at least why
    wasn't something creditable created in place of it?... I talk
    the war with both sides—always waiting until the other man
    introduces the topic. Then I say, “My head is with the Briton, but
    my heart & such rags of morals as I have are with the Boer—now we
    will talk, unembarrassed and without prejudice.” And so we discuss
    & have no trouble.

    I notice that God is on both sides in this war; thus history repeats
    itself. But I am the only person who has noticed this; everybody
    here thinks He is playing the game for this side, & for this side
    only.

Clemens wrote one article for anonymous publication in the Times. But when the manuscript was ready to mail in an envelope stamped and addressed to Moberly Bell—he reconsidered and withheld it. It still lies in the envelope with the accompanying letter, which says:

Don't give me away, whether you print it or not. But I think you ought to print it and get up a squabble, for the weather is just suitable.

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