WHAT IS MAN? AND OTHER ESSAYS OF MARK TWAIN

profitably for me, because he constantly injected commands into

the text. That broke it all up, mixed it all up, tangled it all

up–to that degree, in fact, that if we were in a risky and

difficult piece of river an ignorant person couldn’t have told,

sometimes, which observations were Shakespeare’s and which were

Ealer’s. For instance:

What man dare, _I_ dare!

Approach thou WHAT are you laying in the leads for? what a

hell of an idea! like the rugged ease her off a little, ease her

off! rugged Russian bear, the armed rhinoceros or the THERE she

goes! meet her, meet her! didn’t you KNOW she’d smell the reef if

you crowded in like that? Hyrcan tiger; take any ship but that

and my firm nerves she’ll be in the WOODS the first you know!

stop he starboard! come ahead strong on the larboard! back the

starboard! . . . NOW then, you’re all right; come ahead on the

starboard; straighten up and go ‘long, never tremble: or be

alive again, and dare me to the desert DAMNATION can’t you keep

away from that greasy water? pull her down! snatch her! snatch

her baldheaded! with thy sword; if trembling I inhabit then, lay

in the leads!–no, only with the starboard one, leave the other

alone, protest me the baby of a girl. Hence horrible shadow!

eight bells–that watchman’s asleep again, I reckon, go down and

call Brown yourself, unreal mockery, hence!

He certainly was a good reader, and splendidly thrilling and

stormy and tragic, but it was a damage to me, because I have

never since been able to read Shakespeare in a calm and sane way.

I cannot rid it of his explosive interlardings, they break in

everywhere with their irrelevant, “What in hell are you up to

NOW! pull her down! more! MORE!–there now, steady as you go,”

and the other disorganizing interruptions that were always

leaping from his mouth. When I read Shakespeare now I can hear

them as plainly as I did in that long-departed time–fifty-one

years ago. I never regarded Ealer’s readings as educational.

Indeed, they were a detriment to me.

His contributions to the text seldom improved it, but

barring that detail he was a good reader; I can say that much for

him. He did not use the book, and did not need to; he knew his

Shakespeare as well as Euclid ever knew his multiplication table.

Did he have something to say–this Shakespeare-adoring

Mississippi pilot–anent Delia Bacon’s book?

Yes. And he said it; said it all the time, for months–in

the morning watch, the middle watch, and dog watch; and probably

kept it going in his sleep. He bought the literature of the

dispute as fast as it appeared, and we discussed it all through

thirteen hundred miles of river four times traversed in every

thirty-five days–the time required by that swift boat to achieve

two round trips. We discussed, and discussed, and discussed, and

disputed and disputed and disputed; at any rate, HE did, and I

got in a word now and then when he slipped a cog and there was a

vacancy. He did his arguing with heat, with energy, with

violence; and I did mine with the reverse and moderation of a

subordinate who does not like to be flung out of a pilot-house

and is perched forty feet above the water. He was fiercely loyal

to Shakespeare and cordially scornful of Bacon and of all the

pretensions of the Baconians. So was I–at first. And at first

he was glad that that was my attitude. There were even

indications that he admired it; indications dimmed, it is true,

by the distance that lay between the lofty boss-pilotical

altitude and my lowly one, yet perceptible to me; perceptible,

and translatable into a compliment–compliment coming down from

about the snow-line and not well thawed in the transit, and not

likely to set anything afire, not even a cub-pilot’s self-

conceit; still a detectable complement, and precious.

Naturally it flattered me into being more loyal to Shakespeare–

if possible–than I was before, and more prejudiced against

Bacon–if possible–that I was before. And so we discussed

and discussed, both on the same side, and were happy.

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *