14-a burleque biograhy-第1部分

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A　BURLESQUE　BIOGRAPHY







Two　or　three　persons　having　at　different　times　intimated　that　if　I

would　write　an　autobiography　they　would　read　it　when　they　got　leisure；

I　yield　at　last　to　this　frenzied　public　demand　and　herewith　tender

my　history。



Ours　is　a　noble　house；　and　stretches　a　long　way　back　into　antiquity。　

The　earliest　ancestor　the　Twains　have　any　record　of　was　a　friend　of

the　family　by　the　name　of　Higgins。　　This　was　in　the　eleventh　century；

when　our　people　were　living　in　Aberdeen；　county　of　Cork；　England。　

Why　it　is　that　our　long　line　has　ever　since　borne　the　maternal

name　（except　when　one　of　them　now　and　then　took　a　playful

refuge　in　an　alias　to　avert　foolishness）；　instead　of　Higgins；

is　a　mystery　which　none　of　us　has　ever　felt　much　desire　to　stir。　

It　is　a　kind　of　vague；　pretty　romance；　and　we　leave　it　alone。　

All　the　old　families　do　that　way。



Arthour　Twain　was　a　man　of　considerable　notea　solicitor　on　the

highway　in　William　Rufus's　time。　　At　about　the　age　of　thirty　he　went

to　one　of　those　fine　old　English　places　of　resort　called　Newgate；

to　see　about　something；　and　never　returned　again。　　While　there　he

died　suddenly。



Augustus　Twain　seems　to　have　made　something　of　a　stir　about　the

year　1160。　　He　was　as　full　of　fun　as　he　could　be；　and　used　to　take　his　old

saber　and　sharpen　it　up；　and　get　in　a　convenient　place　on　a　dark　night；

and　stick　it　through　people　as　they　went　by；　to　see　them　jump。　

He　was　a　born　humorist。　　But　he　got　to　going　too　far　with　it；

and　the　first　time　he　was　found　stripping　one　of　these　parties；

the　authorities　removed　one　end　of　him；　and　put　it　up　on　a　nice　high

place　on　Temple　Bar；　where　it　could　contemplate　the　people　and　have

a　good　time。　　He　never　liked　any　situation　so　much　or　stuck　to　it　so　long。



Then　for　the　next　two　hundred　years　the　family　tree　shows

a　succession　of　soldiersnoble；　high…spirited　fellows；

who　always　went　into　battle　singing；　right　behind　the　army；

and　always　went　out　a…whooping；　right　ahead　of　it。



This　is　a　scathing　rebuke　to　old　dead　Froissart's　poor　witticism

that　our　family　tree　never　had　but　one　limb　to　it；　and　that　that

one　stuck　out　at　right　angles；　and　bore　fruit　winter　and　summer。



Early　in　the　fifteenth　century　we　have　Beau　Twain；　called　〃the　Scholar。〃　

He　wrote　a　beautiful；　beautiful　hand。　　And　he　could　imitate　anybody's

hand　so　closely　that　it　was　enough　to　make　a　person　laugh　his　head

off　to　see　it。　　He　had　infinite　sport　with　his　talent。　　But　by　and

by　he　took　a　contract　to　break　stone　for　a　road；　and　the　roughness

of　the　work　spoiled　his　hand。　　Still；　he　enjoyed　life　all　the　time

he　was　in　the　stone　business；　which；　with　inconsiderable　intervals；

was　some　forty…two　years。　　In　fact；　he　died　in　harness。　　During　all

those　long　years　he　gave　such　satisfaction　that　he　never　was　through

with　one　contract　a　week　till　the　government　gave　him　another。　　He　was

a　perfect　pet。　　And　he　was　always　a　favorite　with　his　fellow…artists；

and　was　a　conspicuous　member　of　their　benevolent　secret　society；

called　the　Chain　Gang。　　He　always　wore　his　hair　short；　had　a

preference　for　striped　clothes；　and　died　lamented　by　the　government。　

He　was　a　sore　loss　to　his　country。　　For　he　was　so　regular。



Some　years　later　we　have　the　illustrious　John　Morgan　Twain。　

He　came　over　to　this　country　with　Columbus　in　1492　as　a　passenger。　

He　appears　to　have　been　of　a　crusty；　uncomfortable　disposition。　

He　complained　of　the　food　all　the　way　over；　and　was　always　threatening

to　go　ashore　unless　there　was　a　change。　　He　wanted　fresh　shad。　

Hardly　a　day　passed　over　his　head　that　he　did　not　go　idling　about

the　ship　with　his　nose　in　the　air；　sneering　about　the　commander；

and　saying　he　did　not　believe　Columbus　knew　where　he　was　going

to　or　had　ever　been　there　before。　　The　memorable　cry　of　〃Land　ho！〃

thrilled　every　heart　in　the　ship　but　his。　　He　gazed　awhile　through　a

piece　of　smoked　glass　at　the　penciled　line　lying　on　the　distant　water；

and　then　said：　　〃Land　be　hangedit's　a　raft！〃



When　this　questionable　passenger　came　on　board　the　ship；　be　brought

nothing　with　him　but　an　old　newspaper　containing　a　handkerchief

marked　〃B。　G。；〃　one　cotton　sock　marked　〃L。　W。　C。；〃　one　woolen　one

marked　〃D。　F。；〃　and　a　night…shirt　marked　〃O。　M。　R。〃　And　yet　during

the　voyage　he　worried　more　about　his　〃trunk；〃　and　gave　himself　more

airs　about　it；　than　all　the　rest　of　the　passengers　put　together。　

If　the　ship　was　〃down　by　the　head；〃　and　would　not　steer；　he　would

go　and　move　his　〃trunk〃　further　aft；　and　then　watch　the　effect。　

If　the　ship　was　〃by　the　stern；〃　he　would　suggest　to　Columbus　to　detail

some　men　to　〃shift　that　baggage。〃　　In　storms　he　had　to　be　gagged；

because　his　wailings　about　his　〃trunk〃　made　it　impossible　for　the

men　to　hear　the　orders。　　The　man　does　not　appear　to　have　been

openly　charged　with　any　gravely　unbecoming　thing；　but　it　is　noted

in　the　ship's　log　as　a　〃curious　circumstance〃　that　albeit　he　brought

his　baggage　on　board　the　ship　in　a　newspaper；　he　took　it　ashore　in

four　trunks；　a　queensware　crate；　and　a　couple　of　champagne　baskets。　

But　when　he　came　back　insinuating；　in　an　insolent；　swaggering　way；

that　some　of　this　things　were　missing；　and　was　going　to　search

the　other　passengers'　baggage；　it　was　too　much；　and　they　threw

him　overboard。　　They　watched　long　and　wonderingly　for　him　to

come　up；　but　not　even　a　bubble　rose　on　the　quietly　ebbing　tide。　

But　while　every　one　was　most　absorbed　in　gazing　over　the　side；

and　the　interest　was　momentarily　increasing；　it　was　observed　with

consternation　that　the　vessel　was　adrift　and　the　anchor…cable　hanging

limp　from　the　bow。　　Then　in　the　ship's　dimmed　and　ancient　log　we

find　this　quaint　note：



〃In　time　it　was　discouvered　yt　ye　troblesome　passenger　hadde　gone

downe　and　got　ye　anchor；　and　toke　ye　same　and　solde　it　to　ye　dam

sauvages　from　ye　interior；　saying　yt　he　hadde　founde　it；　ye　sonne

of　a　ghun！〃



Yet　this　ancestor　had　good　and　noble　instincts；　and　it　is　with

pride　that　we　call　to　mind　the　fact　that　he　was　the　first　white

person　who　ever　interested　himself　in　the　work　of　elevating

and　civilizing　our　Indians。　　He　built　a　commodious　jail　and　put

up　a　gallows；　and　to　his　dying　day　he　claimed　with　satisfaction

that　he　had　had　a　more　restraining　and　elevating　influence　on

the　Indians　than　any　other　reformer　that　ever　labored　among　them。　

At　this　point　the　chronicle　becomes　less　frank　and　chatty；

and　closes　abruptly　by　saying　that　the　old　voyager　went　to　see

his　gallows　perform　on　the　first　white　man　ever　hanged　in　America；

and　while　there　received　injuries　which　terminated　in　his　death。



The　great…grandson　of　the　〃Reformer〃　flourished　in　sixteen　hundred

and　something；　and　was　known　in　our　annals　as　〃the　old　Admiral；〃

though　in　history　he　had　other　titles。　　He　was　long　in　command　of

fleets　of　swift　vessels；　well　armed　and　manned；　and　did　great　service

in　hurrying　up　merchantmen。　　Vessels　which　he　followed　and　kept

his　eagle　eye　on；　always　made　good　fair　time　across　the　ocean。　

But　if　a　ship　still　loitered　in　spite　of　all　he　could　do；

his　indignation　would　grow　till　he　could　contain　himself　no　longer

and　then　he　would　take　that　ship　home　where　he　lived　and　keep　it

there　carefully；　expecting　the　owners　to　come　for　it；　but　they　never　did。　

And　he　would　try　to　get　the　idleness　and　sloth　out　of　the　sailors

of　that　ship　by　compelling　them　to　take　invigorating　exercise　and

a　bath。　　He　called　it　〃walking　a　plank。〃　　All　the　pupils　liked　it。　

At　any　rate；　they　never　found　any　fault　with　it　after　trying　it。　

When　the　owners　were　late　coming　for　their　ships；　the　Admiral　always

burned　them；　so　that　the　insurance　money　should　not　be　lost。　

At　last　this　fine　old　tar　was　cut　down　in　the　fullness　of　his　years

and　honors。　　And　to　her　dying　day；　his　poor　heart…broken　widow　believed

that　if　he　had　been　cut　down　fifteen　minutes　sooner　he　might　have

been　resuscitated。



Charles　Henry　Twain　lived　during　the　latter　part　of　the　seventeenth

century；　and　was　a　zealous　and　distinguished　missionary。　

He　converted　sixteen　thousand　South　Sea　islanders；　and　taught　them

that　a　dog…tooth　necklace　and　a　pair　of　spectacles　was　not　enough

clothing　to　come　to　divine　service　in。　　His　poor　flock　loved

him　very；　very　dearly；　and　when　his　funeral　was　over；　they　got　up

in　a　body　（and　came　out　of　the　restaurant）　with　tears　in　their　eyes；

and　saying；　one　to　another；　that　he　was　a　good　tender　missionary；

and　they　wished　they　had　some　more　of　him。



Pah…go…to…wah…wah…pukketekeewis　（Mighty…Hunter…with…a…Hog…Eye…Twain）

adorned　the　middle　of　the　eighteenth　century；　and　aided　General

Braddock　with　all　his　heart　to　resist　the　oppressor　Washington。　

It　was　this　ancestor　who　fired　seventeen　times　at　our　Washington

from　behind　a　tree。　　So　far　the　beautiful　romantic　narrative

in　the　moral　story…books　is　correct；　but　when　that　narrative　goes

on　to　say　that　at　the　seventeenth　round　the　awe…stricken　savage

said　solemnly　that　that　man　was　being　reserved　by　the　Great　Spirit

for　some　mighty　mission；　and　he　dared　not　lift　his　sacrilegious　rifle

against　him　again；　the　narrative　seriously　impairs　the　integrity

of　history。　　What　he　did　say　was：



〃It　ain't　no　（hic）　no　use。　　'At　man's　so　drunk　he　can't　stan'

still　long　enough　for　a　man　to　hit　him。　　I　（hic）　I　can't　'ford

to　fool　away　any　more　am'nition　on　him。〃



That　was　why　he　stopped　at　the　seventeenth　round；　and　it　was　a　good；

plain；　matter…of…fact　reason；　too；　and　one　that　easily　commends　itself

to　us　by　the　eloquent；　persuasive　flavor　of　probability　there　is　about　it。



I　also　enjoyed　the　story…book　narrative；　but　I　felt　a　marring　misgiving

that　every　Indian　at　Braddock's　Defeat　who　fired　at　a　soldier

a　couple　of　times　（two　easily　grows　to　seventeen　in　a　century）；

and　missed　him；　jumped　to　the　conclusion　that　the　Great　Spirit

was　reserving　that　soldier　for　some　grand　mission；　and　so　I　somehow

feare