SEPTEMBER 27, 1863:
Mark
Twain, writing as a War Correspondent, sends a note to his editor describing
his daily “battle” with a hotel chambermaid:
I hear the stately
tread of that inveterate chambermaid . . . her instincts infallibly impel her
to march in here just when I feel least like marching out. I do not know that I
have ever begged permission to write "only a few moments longer" - never
with my tongue, at any rate, although I may have looked it with my expressive
glass eye. But . . . she is a soldier in the army of the household; she knows
her duty, and she allows nothing to interfere with its rigid performance. She
reminds me of U. S. Grant; she marches in her grand military way to the centre
of the room, and comes to an "order arms" with her broom and her
slop-bucket; then she bends on me a look of uncompromising determination, and I
reluctantly haul down my flag. I abandon my position - I evacuate the premises
- I retire in good order - I vamose the ranch. Because that look of hers says
in plain, crisp language, "I don't want you here. If you are not gone in
two minutes, I propose to move upon your works!" But I bear the chambermaid
no animosity.
Twain, a former riverboat pilot, had started the war as a
Missouri Confederate, but after only two weeks in a local militia unit he
decided to “resign” and go West, where he became an anti-slavery Unionist.
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