chapter 21
湯姆索亞曆險記英文版 作者：馬克·吐溫 投票推薦 加入書簽 留言反饋
vacation was approaching. the schoolmaster, always severe, grew severer and more exacting than ever, for he wanted the school to make a good showing on "examination" day. his rod and his ferule were seldom idle now -- at least among the smaller pupils. only the biggest boys, and youngdies of eighteen and twenty, escapedshing. mr. dobbins''shings were very vigorous ones, too; for although he carried, under his wig, a perfectly bald and shiny head, he had only reached middle age, and there was no sign of feebleness in his muscle. as the great day approached, all the tyranny that was in him came to the surface; he seemed to take a vindictive pleasure in punishing the least shorings. the consequence was, that the smaller boys spent their days in terror and suffering and their nights in plotting revenge. they threw away no opportunity to do the master a mischief. but he kept ahead all the time. the retribution that followed every vengeful sess was so sweeping and majestic that the boys always retired from the field badly worsted. atst they conspired together and hit upon a n that promised a dazzling victory. they swore in the sign-painter''s boy, told him the scheme, and asked his help. he had his own reasons for being delighted, for the master boarded in his father''s family and had given the boy ample cause to hate him. the master''s wife would go on a visit to the country in a few days, and there would be nothing to interfere with the n; the master always prepared himself for great asions by getting pretty well fuddled, and the sign-painter''s boy said that when the dominie had reached the proper condition on examination evening he would "manage the thing" while he napped in his chair; then he would have him awakened at the right time and hurried away to school.
in the fulness of time the interesting asion arrived. at eight in the evening the schoolhouse was brilliantly lighted, and adorned with wreaths and festoons of foliage and flowers. the master sat throned in his great chair upon a raised tform, with his ckboard behind him. he was looking tolerably mellow. three rows of benches on each side and six rows in front of him were upied by the dignitaries of the town and by the parents of the pupils. to his left, back of the rows of citizens, was a spacious temporary tform upon which were seated the schrs who were to take part in the exercises of the evening; rows of small boys, washed and dressed to an intolerable state of difort; rows of gawky big boys; snowbanks of girls and youngdies d inwn and muslin and conspicuously conscious of their bare arms, their grandmothers'' ancient trinkets, their bits of pink and blue ribbon and the flowers in their hair. all the rest of the house was filled with non-participating schrs.
the exercises began. a very little boy stood up and sheepishly recited, "you''d scarce expect one of my age to speak in public on the stage," etc. -- apanying himself with the painfully exact and spasmodic gestures which a machine might have used -- supposing the machine to be a trifle out of order. but he got through safely, though cruelly scared, and got a fine round of apuse when he made his manufactured bow and retired.
a little shamefaced girl lisped, "mary had a littlemb," etc., performed apassion-inspiring curtsy, got her meed of apuse, and sat down flushed and happy.
tom sawyer stepped forward with conceited confidence and soared into the unquenchable and indestructible "give me liberty or give me death" speech, with fine fury and frantic gestiction, and broke down in the middle of it. a ghastly stage-fright seized him, his legs quaked under him and he was like to choke. true, he had the manifest sympathy of the house but he had the house''s silence, too, which was even worse than its sympathy. the master frowned, and thispleted the disaster. tom struggled awhile and then retired, utterly defeated. there was a weak attempt at apuse, but it died early.
"the boy stood on the burning deck" followed; also "the assyrian came down," and other dematory gems. then there were reading exercises, and a spelling fight. the meagretin ss recited with honor. the prime feature of the evening was in order, now -- original positions" by the youngdies. each in her turn stepped forward to the edge of the tform, cleared her throat, held up her manuscript (tied with dainty ribbon), and proceeded to read, withbored attention to "expression" and punctuation. the themes were the same that had been illuminated upon simr asions by their mothers before them, their grandmothers, and doubtless all their ancestors in the female line clear back to the crusades. "friendship" was one; "memories of other days"; "religion in history"; "dreamnd"; "the advantages of culture"; "forms of political governmentpared and contrasted"; "mncholy"; "filial love"; "heart longings," etc., etc.
a prevalent feature in thesepositions was a nursed and petted mncholy; another was a wasteful and opulent gush of "finenguage"; another was a tendency to lug in by the ears particrly prized words and phrases until they were worn entirely out; and a peculiarity that conspicuously marked and marred them was the inveterate and intolerable sermon that wagged its crippled tail at the end of each and every one of them. no matter what the subject might be, a brain-racking effort was made to squirm it into some aspect or other that the moral and religious mind could contemte with edification. the ring insincerity of these sermons was not sufficient topass the banishment of the fashion from the schools, and it is not sufficient to-day; it never will be sufficient while the world stands, perhaps. there is no school in all ournd where the youngdies do not feel obliged to close theirpositions with a sermon; and you will find that the sermon of the most frivolous and the least religious girl in the school is always the longest and the most relentlessly pious. but enough of this. homely truth is unptable.
let us return to the "examination." the firstposition that was read was one entitled "is this, then, life?" perhaps the reader can endure an extract from it:
"in themon walks of life, with what delightful emotions does the youthful mind look forward to some anticipated scene of festivity! imagination is busy sketching rose-tinted pictures of joy. in fancy, the voluptuous votary of fashion sees herself amid the festive throng, ''the observed of all observers.'' her graceful form, arrayed in snowy robes, is whirling through the mazes of the joyous dance; her eye is brightest, her step is lightest in the gay assembly.
"in such delicious fancies time quickly glides by, and the wee hour arrives for her entrance into the elysian world, of which she has had such bright dreams. how fairy-like does everything appear to her enchanted vision! each new scene is more charming than thest. but after a while she finds that beneath this goodly exterior, all is vanity, the ttery which once charmed her soul, now grates harshly upon her ear; the ball-room has lost its charms; and with wasted health and imbittered heart, she turns away with the conviction that earthly pleasures cannot satisfy the longings of the soul!"
and so forth and so on. there was a buzz of gratification from time to time during the reading, apanied by whispered ejactions of "how sweet!" "how eloquent!" "so true!" etc., and after the thing had closed with a peculiarly afflicting sermon the apuse was enthusiastic.
then arose a slim, mncholy girl, whose face had the "interesting" paleness thates of pills and indigestion, and read a "poem." two stanzas of it will do:
"a missouri maiden''s farewell to bama
"bama, good-bye! i love thee well! but yet for a while do i leave thee now! sad, yes, sad thoughts of thee my heart doth swell, and burning recollections throng my brow! for i have wandered through thy flowery woods; have roamed and read near tapoosa''s stream; have listened to tassee''s warring floods, and wooed on coosa''s side aurora''s beam.
"yet shame i not to bear an o''er-full heart, nor blush to turn behind my tearful eyes; ''tis from no strangernd i now must part, ''tis to no strangers left i yield these sighs. wee and home were mine within this state, whose vales i leave -- whose spires fade fast from me and cold must be mine eyes, and heart, and tête, when, dear bama! they turn cold on thee!"
there were very few there who knew what "tête" meant, but the poem was very satisfactory, nevertheless.
next appeared a darkplexioned, ck-eyed, ck-haired youngdy, who paused an impressive moment, assumed a tragic expression, and began to read in a measured, solemn tone:
"a vision
"dark and tempestuous was night. around the throne on high not a single star quivered; but the deep intonations of the heavy thunder constantly vibrated upon the ear; whilst the terrific lightning revelled in angry mood through the cloudy chambers of heaven, seeming to scorn the power exerted over its terror by the illustrious franklin! even the boisterous winds unanimously came forth from their mystic homes, and blustered about as if to enhance by their aid the wildness of the scene.
"at such a time,so dark,so dreary, for human sympathy my very spirit sighed; but instead thereof,
"''my dearest friend, my counsellor, myforter and guide my joy in grief, my second bliss in joy,'' came to my side.
she moved like one of those bright beings pictured in the sunny walks of fancy''s eden by the romantic and young, a queen of beauty unadorned save by her own transcendent loveliness. so soft was her step, it failed to make even a sound, and but for the magical thrill imparted by her genial touch, as other unobtrusive beauties, she would have glided away un-perceived -- unsought. a strange sadness rested upon her features, like icy tears upon the robe of december, as she pointed to the contending elements without, and bade me contemte the two beings presented."
this nightmare upied some ten pages of manuscript and wound up with a sermon so destructive of all hope to non-presbyterians that it took the first prize. thisposition was considered to be the very finest effort of the evening. the mayor of the vige, in delivering the prize to the author of it, made a warm speech in which he said that it was by far the most "eloquent" thing he had ever listened to, and that daniel webster himself might well be proud of it.
it may be remarked, in passing, that the number ofpositions in which the word "beauteous" was over-fondled, and human experience referred to as "life''s page," was up to the usual average.
now the master, mellow almost to the verge of geniality, put his chair aside, turned his back to the audience, and began to draw a map of america on the ckboard, to exercise the geography ss upon. but he made a sad business of it with his unsteady hand, and a smothered titter rippled over the house. he knew what the matter was, and set himself to right it. he sponged out lines and remade them; but he only distorted them more than ever, and the tittering was more pronounced. he threw his entire attention upon his work, now, as if determined not to be put down by the mirth. he felt that all eyes were fastened upon him; he imagined he was seeding, and yet the tittering continued; it even manifestly increased. and well it might. there was a garret above, pierced with a scuttle over his head; and down through this scuttle came a cat, suspended around the haunches by a string; she had a rag tied about her head and jaws to keep her from mewing; as she slowly descended she curved upward and wed at the string, she swung downward and wed at the intangible air. the tittering rose higher and higher -- the cat was within six inches of the absorbed teacher''s head -- down, down, a little lower, and she grabbed his wig with her desperate ws, clung to it, and was snatched up into the garret in an instant with her trophy still in her possession! and how the light did ze abroad from the master''s bald pate -- for the sign-painter''s boy had gilded it!
that broke up the meeting. the boys were avenged. vacation hade.
[note:-- the pretended positions" quoted in this chapter are taken without alteration from a volume entitled "prose and poetry, by a westerndy" -- but they are exactly and precisely after the schoolgirl pattern, and hence are much happier than any mere imitations could be.]
in the fulness of time the interesting asion arrived. at eight in the evening the schoolhouse was brilliantly lighted, and adorned with wreaths and festoons of foliage and flowers. the master sat throned in his great chair upon a raised tform, with his ckboard behind him. he was looking tolerably mellow. three rows of benches on each side and six rows in front of him were upied by the dignitaries of the town and by the parents of the pupils. to his left, back of the rows of citizens, was a spacious temporary tform upon which were seated the schrs who were to take part in the exercises of the evening; rows of small boys, washed and dressed to an intolerable state of difort; rows of gawky big boys; snowbanks of girls and youngdies d inwn and muslin and conspicuously conscious of their bare arms, their grandmothers'' ancient trinkets, their bits of pink and blue ribbon and the flowers in their hair. all the rest of the house was filled with non-participating schrs.
the exercises began. a very little boy stood up and sheepishly recited, "you''d scarce expect one of my age to speak in public on the stage," etc. -- apanying himself with the painfully exact and spasmodic gestures which a machine might have used -- supposing the machine to be a trifle out of order. but he got through safely, though cruelly scared, and got a fine round of apuse when he made his manufactured bow and retired.
a little shamefaced girl lisped, "mary had a littlemb," etc., performed apassion-inspiring curtsy, got her meed of apuse, and sat down flushed and happy.
tom sawyer stepped forward with conceited confidence and soared into the unquenchable and indestructible "give me liberty or give me death" speech, with fine fury and frantic gestiction, and broke down in the middle of it. a ghastly stage-fright seized him, his legs quaked under him and he was like to choke. true, he had the manifest sympathy of the house but he had the house''s silence, too, which was even worse than its sympathy. the master frowned, and thispleted the disaster. tom struggled awhile and then retired, utterly defeated. there was a weak attempt at apuse, but it died early.
"the boy stood on the burning deck" followed; also "the assyrian came down," and other dematory gems. then there were reading exercises, and a spelling fight. the meagretin ss recited with honor. the prime feature of the evening was in order, now -- original positions" by the youngdies. each in her turn stepped forward to the edge of the tform, cleared her throat, held up her manuscript (tied with dainty ribbon), and proceeded to read, withbored attention to "expression" and punctuation. the themes were the same that had been illuminated upon simr asions by their mothers before them, their grandmothers, and doubtless all their ancestors in the female line clear back to the crusades. "friendship" was one; "memories of other days"; "religion in history"; "dreamnd"; "the advantages of culture"; "forms of political governmentpared and contrasted"; "mncholy"; "filial love"; "heart longings," etc., etc.
a prevalent feature in thesepositions was a nursed and petted mncholy; another was a wasteful and opulent gush of "finenguage"; another was a tendency to lug in by the ears particrly prized words and phrases until they were worn entirely out; and a peculiarity that conspicuously marked and marred them was the inveterate and intolerable sermon that wagged its crippled tail at the end of each and every one of them. no matter what the subject might be, a brain-racking effort was made to squirm it into some aspect or other that the moral and religious mind could contemte with edification. the ring insincerity of these sermons was not sufficient topass the banishment of the fashion from the schools, and it is not sufficient to-day; it never will be sufficient while the world stands, perhaps. there is no school in all ournd where the youngdies do not feel obliged to close theirpositions with a sermon; and you will find that the sermon of the most frivolous and the least religious girl in the school is always the longest and the most relentlessly pious. but enough of this. homely truth is unptable.
let us return to the "examination." the firstposition that was read was one entitled "is this, then, life?" perhaps the reader can endure an extract from it:
"in themon walks of life, with what delightful emotions does the youthful mind look forward to some anticipated scene of festivity! imagination is busy sketching rose-tinted pictures of joy. in fancy, the voluptuous votary of fashion sees herself amid the festive throng, ''the observed of all observers.'' her graceful form, arrayed in snowy robes, is whirling through the mazes of the joyous dance; her eye is brightest, her step is lightest in the gay assembly.
"in such delicious fancies time quickly glides by, and the wee hour arrives for her entrance into the elysian world, of which she has had such bright dreams. how fairy-like does everything appear to her enchanted vision! each new scene is more charming than thest. but after a while she finds that beneath this goodly exterior, all is vanity, the ttery which once charmed her soul, now grates harshly upon her ear; the ball-room has lost its charms; and with wasted health and imbittered heart, she turns away with the conviction that earthly pleasures cannot satisfy the longings of the soul!"
and so forth and so on. there was a buzz of gratification from time to time during the reading, apanied by whispered ejactions of "how sweet!" "how eloquent!" "so true!" etc., and after the thing had closed with a peculiarly afflicting sermon the apuse was enthusiastic.
then arose a slim, mncholy girl, whose face had the "interesting" paleness thates of pills and indigestion, and read a "poem." two stanzas of it will do:
"a missouri maiden''s farewell to bama
"bama, good-bye! i love thee well! but yet for a while do i leave thee now! sad, yes, sad thoughts of thee my heart doth swell, and burning recollections throng my brow! for i have wandered through thy flowery woods; have roamed and read near tapoosa''s stream; have listened to tassee''s warring floods, and wooed on coosa''s side aurora''s beam.
"yet shame i not to bear an o''er-full heart, nor blush to turn behind my tearful eyes; ''tis from no strangernd i now must part, ''tis to no strangers left i yield these sighs. wee and home were mine within this state, whose vales i leave -- whose spires fade fast from me and cold must be mine eyes, and heart, and tête, when, dear bama! they turn cold on thee!"
there were very few there who knew what "tête" meant, but the poem was very satisfactory, nevertheless.
next appeared a darkplexioned, ck-eyed, ck-haired youngdy, who paused an impressive moment, assumed a tragic expression, and began to read in a measured, solemn tone:
"a vision
"dark and tempestuous was night. around the throne on high not a single star quivered; but the deep intonations of the heavy thunder constantly vibrated upon the ear; whilst the terrific lightning revelled in angry mood through the cloudy chambers of heaven, seeming to scorn the power exerted over its terror by the illustrious franklin! even the boisterous winds unanimously came forth from their mystic homes, and blustered about as if to enhance by their aid the wildness of the scene.
"at such a time,so dark,so dreary, for human sympathy my very spirit sighed; but instead thereof,
"''my dearest friend, my counsellor, myforter and guide my joy in grief, my second bliss in joy,'' came to my side.
she moved like one of those bright beings pictured in the sunny walks of fancy''s eden by the romantic and young, a queen of beauty unadorned save by her own transcendent loveliness. so soft was her step, it failed to make even a sound, and but for the magical thrill imparted by her genial touch, as other unobtrusive beauties, she would have glided away un-perceived -- unsought. a strange sadness rested upon her features, like icy tears upon the robe of december, as she pointed to the contending elements without, and bade me contemte the two beings presented."
this nightmare upied some ten pages of manuscript and wound up with a sermon so destructive of all hope to non-presbyterians that it took the first prize. thisposition was considered to be the very finest effort of the evening. the mayor of the vige, in delivering the prize to the author of it, made a warm speech in which he said that it was by far the most "eloquent" thing he had ever listened to, and that daniel webster himself might well be proud of it.
it may be remarked, in passing, that the number ofpositions in which the word "beauteous" was over-fondled, and human experience referred to as "life''s page," was up to the usual average.
now the master, mellow almost to the verge of geniality, put his chair aside, turned his back to the audience, and began to draw a map of america on the ckboard, to exercise the geography ss upon. but he made a sad business of it with his unsteady hand, and a smothered titter rippled over the house. he knew what the matter was, and set himself to right it. he sponged out lines and remade them; but he only distorted them more than ever, and the tittering was more pronounced. he threw his entire attention upon his work, now, as if determined not to be put down by the mirth. he felt that all eyes were fastened upon him; he imagined he was seeding, and yet the tittering continued; it even manifestly increased. and well it might. there was a garret above, pierced with a scuttle over his head; and down through this scuttle came a cat, suspended around the haunches by a string; she had a rag tied about her head and jaws to keep her from mewing; as she slowly descended she curved upward and wed at the string, she swung downward and wed at the intangible air. the tittering rose higher and higher -- the cat was within six inches of the absorbed teacher''s head -- down, down, a little lower, and she grabbed his wig with her desperate ws, clung to it, and was snatched up into the garret in an instant with her trophy still in her possession! and how the light did ze abroad from the master''s bald pate -- for the sign-painter''s boy had gilded it!
that broke up the meeting. the boys were avenged. vacation hade.
[note:-- the pretended positions" quoted in this chapter are taken without alteration from a volume entitled "prose and poetry, by a westerndy" -- but they are exactly and precisely after the schoolgirl pattern, and hence are much happier than any mere imitations could be.]