The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Page 23

  CHAPTER XXI

  VACATION was approaching. The schoolmaster, always severe, grew severerand more exacting than ever, for he wanted the school to make a goodshowing on "Examination" day. His rod and his ferule were seldom idlenow--at least among the smaller pupils. Only the biggest boys, and youngladies of eighteen and twenty, escaped lashing. Mr. Dobbins' lashingswere very vigorous ones, too; for although he carried, under his wig, aperfectly bald and shiny head, he had only reached middle age, and therewas 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 avindictive pleasure in punishing the least shortcomings. The consequencewas, that the smaller boys spent their days in terror and suffering andtheir nights in plotting revenge. They threw away no opportunity to dothe master a mischief. But he kept ahead all the time. The retributionthat followed every vengeful success was so sweeping and majestic thatthe boys always retired from the field badly worsted. At last theyconspired together and hit upon a plan that promised a dazzling victory.They swore in the signpainter's boy, told him the scheme, and asked hishelp. He had his own reasons for being delighted, for the master boardedin 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, andthere would be nothing to interfere with the plan; the master alwaysprepared himself for great occasions by getting pretty well fuddled, andthe signpainter's boy said that when the dominie had reached the propercondition on Examination Evening he would "manage the thing" while henapped in his chair; then he would have him awakened at the right timeand hurried away to school.

  In the fulness of time the interesting occasion arrived. At eight inthe evening the schoolhouse was brilliantly lighted, and adorned withwreaths and festoons of foliage and flowers. The master sat throned inhis great chair upon a raised platform, with his blackboard behind him.He was looking tolerably mellow. Three rows of benches on each side andsix rows in front of him were occupied by the dignitaries of the townand by the parents of the pupils. To his left, back of the rows ofcitizens, was a spacious temporary platform upon which were seated thescholars who were to take part in the exercises of the evening; rows ofsmall boys, washed and dressed to an intolerable state of discomfort;rows of gawky big boys; snowbanks of girls and young ladies clad inlawn and muslin and conspicuously conscious of their bare arms, theirgrandmothers' ancient trinkets, their bits of pink and blue ribbon andthe flowers in their hair. All the rest of the house was filled withnon-participating scholars.

  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.--accompanying himself with the painfully exact and spasmodicgestures which a machine might have used--supposing the machine to be atrifle out of order. But he got through safely, though cruelly scared,and got a fine round of applause when he made his manufactured bow andretired.

  A little shamefaced girl lisped, "Mary had a little lamb," etc.,performed a compassion-inspiring curtsy, got her meed of applause, andsat down flushed and happy.

  Tom Sawyer stepped forward with conceited confidence and soared intothe unquenchable and indestructible "Give me liberty or give me death"speech, with fine fury and frantic gesticulation, and broke down in themiddle of it. A ghastly stage-fright seized him, his legs quaked underhim and he was like to choke. True, he had the manifest sympathy of thehouse but he had the house's silence, too, which was even worse thanits sympathy. The master frowned, and this completed the disaster. Tomstruggled awhile and then retired, utterly defeated. There was a weakattempt at applause, but it died early.

  "The Boy Stood on the Burning Deck" followed; also "The Assyrian CameDown," and other declamatory gems. Then there were reading exercises,and a spelling fight. The meagre Latin class recited with honor. Theprime feature of the evening was in order, now--original "compositions"by the young ladies. Each in her turn stepped forward to the edge of theplatform, cleared her throat, held up her manuscript (tied with daintyribbon), and proceeded to read, with labored attention to "expression"and punctuation. The themes were the same that had been illuminated uponsimilar occasions by their mothers before them, their grandmothers,and doubtless all their ancestors in the female line clear back to theCrusades. "Friendship" was one; "Memories of Other Days"; "Religion inHistory"; "Dream Land"; "The Advantages of Culture"; "Forms of PoliticalGovernment Compared and Contrasted"; "Melancholy"; "Filial Love"; "HeartLongings," etc., etc.

  A prevalent feature in these compositions was a nursed and pettedmelancholy; another was a wasteful and opulent gush of "fine language";another was a tendency to lug in by the ears particularly prized wordsand phrases until they were worn entirely out; and a peculiarity thatconspicuously marked and marred them was the inveterate and intolerablesermon that wagged its crippled tail at the end of each and every oneof them. No matter what the subject might be, a brainracking effort wasmade to squirm it into some aspect or other that the moral and religiousmind could contemplate with edification. The glaring insincerity ofthese sermons was not sufficient to compass the banishment of thefashion from the schools, and it is not sufficient today; it never willbe sufficient while the world stands, perhaps. There is no school inall our land where the young ladies do not feel obliged to close theircompositions with a sermon; and you will find that the sermon of themost frivolous and the least religious girl in the school is alwaysthe longest and the most relentlessly pious. But enough of this. Homelytruth is unpalatable.

  Let us return to the "Examination." The first composition that was readwas one entitled "Is this, then, Life?" Perhaps the reader can endure anextract from it:

  "In the common walks of life, with what delightful emotions does theyouthful mind look forward to some anticipated scene of festivity!Imagination is busy sketching rose-tinted pictures of joy. In fancy, thevoluptuous votary of fashion sees herself amid the festive throng, 'theobserved 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 welcome hourarrives for her entrance into the Elysian world, of which she hashad such bright dreams. How fairy-like does everything appear to herenchanted vision! Each new scene is more charming than the last. Butafter a while she finds that beneath this goodly exterior, all isvanity, the flattery which once charmed her soul, now grates harshlyupon her ear; the ballroom has lost its charms; and with wasted healthand imbittered heart, she turns away with the conviction that earthlypleasures cannot satisfy the longings of the soul!"

  And so forth and so on. There was a buzz of gratification from time totime during the reading, accompanied by whispered ejaculations of "Howsweet!" "How eloquent!" "So true!" etc., and after the thing had closedwith a peculiarly afflicting sermon the applause was enthusiastic.

  Then arose a slim, melancholy girl, whose face had the "interesting"paleness that comes of pills and indigestion, and read a "poem." Twostanzas of it will do:

  "A MISSOURI MAIDEN'S FAREWELL TO ALABAMA

  "Alabama, goodbye! I love thee well! But yet for a while do I leave theenow! Sad, yes, sad thoughts of thee my heart doth swell, And burningrecollections throng my brow! For I have wandered through thy flowerywoods; Have roamed and read near Tallapoosa's stream; Have listened toTallassee's warring floods, And wooed on Coosa's side Aurora's beam.

  "Yet shame I not to bear an o'erfull heart, Nor blush to turn behindmy tearful eyes; 'Tis from no stranger land I now must part, 'Tis to nostrangers left I yield these sighs. Welcome and home were mine withinthis State, Whose vales I leave--whose spires fade fast from me And coldmust be mine eyes, and heart, and tete, When, dear Alabama! they turncold on thee!" There were very few there who knew what "tete" meant, butthe poem was very satisfactory, nevertheless.

  Next appeared a dark-complexioned, black-eyed, black-haired young lady,who paused an impressive moment, assumed a tragic expressi
on, and beganto read in a measured, solemn tone:

  "A VISION

  "Dark and tempestuous was night. Around the throne on high not a singlestar quivered; but the deep intonations of the heavy thunder constantlyvibrated upon the ear; whilst the terrific lightning revelled in angrymood through the cloudy chambers of heaven, seeming to scorn the powerexerted over its terror by the illustrious Franklin! Even the boisterouswinds unanimously came forth from their mystic homes, and blusteredabout 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 spiritsighed; but instead thereof,

  "'My dearest friend, my counsellor, my comforter and guide--My joy ingrief, my second bliss in joy,' came to my side. She moved like one ofthose bright beings pictured in the sunny walks of fancy's Eden bythe romantic and young, a queen of beauty unadorned save by her owntranscendent loveliness. So soft was her step, it failed to make even asound, and but for the magical thrill imparted by her genial touch,as other unobtrusive beauties, she would have glided awayunperceived--unsought. A strange sadness rested upon her features, likeicy tears upon the robe of December, as she pointed to the contendingelements without, and bade me contemplate the two beings presented."

  This nightmare occupied some ten pages of manuscript and wound up with asermon so destructive of all hope to non-Presbyterians that it tookthe first prize. This composition was considered to be the very finesteffort of the evening. The mayor of the village, in delivering the prizeto the author of it, made a warm speech in which he said that it was byfar the most "eloquent" thing he had ever listened to, and that DanielWebster himself might well be proud of it.

  It may be remarked, in passing, that the number of compositions in whichthe word "beauteous" was over-fondled, and human experience referred toas "life's page," was up to the usual average.

  Now the master, mellow almost to the verge of geniality, put his chairaside, turned his back to the audience, and began to draw a map ofAmerica on the blackboard, to exercise the geography class upon. But hemade a sad business of it with his unsteady hand, and a smothered titterrippled over the house. He knew what the matter was, and set himself toright it. He sponged out lines and remade them; but he only distortedthem more than ever, and the tittering was more pronounced. He threw hisentire attention upon his work, now, as if determined not to be put downby the mirth. He felt that all eyes were fastened upon him; he imaginedhe was succeeding, and yet the tittering continued; it even manifestlyincreased. And well it might. There was a garret above, pierced witha scuttle over his head; and down through this scuttle came a cat,suspended around the haunches by a string; she had a rag tied abouther head and jaws to keep her from mewing; as she slowly descended shecurved upward and clawed at the string, she swung downward and clawedat the intangible air. The tittering rose higher and higher--the cat waswithin six inches of the absorbed teacher's head--down, down, a littlelower, and she grabbed his wig with her desperate claws, clung to it,and was snatched up into the garret in an instant with her trophy stillin her possession! And how the light did blaze abroad from the master'sbald pate--for the signpainter's boy had _gilded_ it!

  That broke up the meeting. The boys were avenged. Vacation had come.

  NOTE:--The pretended "compositions" quoted in this chapter are takenwithout alteration from a volume entitled "Prose and Poetry, by aWestern Lady"--but they are exactly and precisely after the schoolgirlpattern, and hence are much happier than any mere imitations could be.