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elves in opposition to each other and a choice had to be made: I let principle go; and went over to the other side。 Not the entire way; but far enough to answer the requirements of the case。 That is to say; I took this attitude; to wit: I only BELIEVED Bacon wrote Shakespeare; whereas I KNEW Shakespeare didn't。 Ealer was satisfied with that; and the war broke loose。 Study; practice; experience in handling my end of the matter presently enabled me to take my new position almost seriously; a little bit later; utterly seriously; a little later still; lovingly; gratefully; devotedly; finally: fiercely; rabidly; uncompromisingly。 After that; I was welded to my faith; I was theoretically ready to die for it; and I looked down with compassion not unmixed with scorn; upon everybody else's faith that didn't tally with mine。 That faith; imposed upon me by self…interest in that ancient day; remains my faith to…day; and in it I find comfort; solace; peace; and never…failing joy。 You see how curiously theological it is。 The 〃rice Christian〃 of the Orient goes through the very same steps; when he is after rice and the missionary is after HIM; he goes for rice; and remains to worship。
Ealer did a lot of our 〃reasoning〃not to say substantially all of it。 The slaves of his cult have a passion for calling it by that large name。 We others do not call our inductions and deductions and reductions by any name at all。 They show for themselves; what they are; and we can with tranquil confidence leave the world to ennoble them with a title of its own choosing。
Now and then when Ealer had to stop to cough; I pulled my induction…talents together and hove the controversial lead myself: always getting eight feet; eight…and…a…half; often nine; sometimes even quarter…less…twainas _I_ believed; but always 〃no bottom;〃 as HE said。
I got the best of him only once。 I prepared myself。 I wrote out a passage from Shakespeareit may have been the very one I quoted a while ago; I don't rememberand riddled it with his wild steamboatful interlardings。 When an unrisky opportunity offered; one lovely summer day; when we had sounded and buoyed a tangled patch of crossings known as Hell's Half Acre; and were aboard again and he had sneaked the Pennsylvania triumphantly through it without once scraping sand; and the A。 T。 Lacey had followed in our wake and got stuck; and he was feeling good; I showed it to him。 It amused him。 I asked him to fire it off: read it; read it; I diplomatically added; as only he could read dramatic poetry。 The compliment touched him where he lived。 He did read it; read it with surpassing fire and spirit; read it as it will never be read again; for HE knew how to put the right music into those thunderous interlardings and make them seem a part of the text; make them sound as if they were bursting from Shakespeare's own soul; each one of them a golden inspiration and not to be left out without damage to the massed and magnificent whole。
I waited a week; to let the incident fade; waited longer; waited until he brought up for reasonings and vituperation my pet position; my pet argument; the one which I was fondest of; the one which I prized far above all others in my ammunition…wagon; to wit: that Shakespeare couldn't have written Shakespeare's works; for the reason that the man who wrote them was limitlessly familiar with the laws; and the law…courts; and law…proceedings; and lawyer…talk; and lawyer…waysand if Shakespeare was possessed of the infinitely…divided star…dust that constituted this vast wealth; how did he get it; and WHERE; and WHEN?
〃From books。〃
From books! That was always the idea。 I answered as my readings of the champions of my side of the great controversy had taught me to answer: that a man can't handle glibly and easily and comfortably and successfully the argot of a trade at which he has not personally served。 He will make mistakes; he will not; and cannot; get the trade…phrasings precisely and exactly right; and the moment he departs; by even a shade; from a common trade…form; the reader who has served that trade will know the writer HASN'T。 Ealer would not be convinced; he said a man could learn how to correctly handle the subtleties and mysteries and free…masonries of any trade by careful reading and studying。 But when I got him to read again the passage from Shakespeare with the interlardings; he perceived; himself; that books couldn't teach a student a bewildering multitude of pilot…phrases so thoroughly and perfectly that he could talk them off in book and play or conversation and make no mistake that a pilot would not immediately discover。 It was a triumph for me。 He was silent awhile; and I knew what was happening: he was losing his temper。 And I knew he would presently close the session with the same old argument that was always his stay and his support in time of need; the same old argument; the one I couldn't answerbecause I dasn't: the argument that I was an ass; and better shut up。 He delivered it; and I obeyed。
Oh; dear; how long ago it washow pathetically long ago! And here am I; old; forsaken; forlorn and alone; arranging to get that argument out of somebody again。
When a man has a passion for Shakespeare; it goes without saying that he keeps company with other standard authors。 Ealer always had several high…class books in the pilot…house; and he read the same ones over and over again; and did not care to change to newer and fresher ones。 He played well on the flute; and greatly enjoyed hearing himself play。 So did I。 He had a notion that a flute would keep its health better if you took it apart when it was not standing a watch; and so; when it was not on duty it took its rest; disjointed; on the compass…shelf under the breast…board。 When the Pennsylvania blew up and became a drifting rack…heap freighted with wounded and dying poor souls (my young brother Henry among them); pilot Brown had the watch below; and was probably asleep and never knew what killed him; but Ealer escaped unhurt。 He and his pilot… house were shot up into the air; then they fell; and Ealer sank through the ragged cavern where the hurricane deck and the boiler deck had been; and landed in a nest of ruins on the main deck; on top of one of the unexploded boilers; where he lay prone in a fog of scalding and deadly steam。 But not for long。 He did not lose his head: long familiarity with danger had taught him to keep it; in any and all emergencies。 He held his coat…lappels to his nose with one hand; to keep out the steam; and scrabbled around with the other till he found the joints of his flute; then he is took measures to save himself alive; and was successful。 I was not on board。 I had been put ashore in New Orleans by Captain Klinefelter。 The reasonhowever; I have told all about it in the book called Old Times on the Mississippi; and it isn't important anyway; it is so long ago。
CHAPTER II
When I was a Sunday…school scholar something more than sixty years ago; I became interested in Satan; and wanted to find out all I could about him。 I began to ask questions; but my class…teacher; Mr。 Barclay the stone…mason; was reluctant about answering them; it seemed to me。 I was anxious to be praised for turning my thoughts to serious subjects when there wasn't another boy in the village who could be hired to do such a thing。 I was greatly interested in the incident of Eve and the serpent; and thought Eve's calmness was perfectly noble。 I asked Mr。 Barclay if he had ever heard of another woman who; being approached by a serpent; would not excuse herself and break for the nearest timber。 He did not answer my question; but rebuked me for inquiring into matters above my age and comprehension。 I will say for Mr。 Barclay that he was willing to tell me the facts of Satan's history; but he stopped there: he wouldn't allow any discussion of them。
In the course of time we exhausted the facts。 There were only five or six of them; you could set them all down on a visiting…card。 I was disappointed。 I had been meditating a biography; and was grieved to find that there were no materials。 I said as much; with the tears running down。 Mr。 Barclay's sympathy and compassion were arous