—Pudd’nhead Wilson’s New Calendar.
MONDAY,—December 23, 1895. Sailed from Sydney for Ceylon in the P. & O. steamer ‘Oceana’. A Lascar crew mans this ship—the first I have seen. White cotton petticoat and pants; barefoot; red shawl for belt; straw cap, brimless, on head, with red scarf wound around it; complexion3 a rich dark brown; short straight black hair; whiskers fine and silky; lustrous4 and intensely black. Mild, good faces; willing and obedient people; capable, too; but are said to go into hopeless panics when there is danger. They are from Bombay and the coast thereabouts. Left some of the trunks in Sydney, to be shipped to South Africa by a vessel5 advertised to sail three months hence. The proverb says: “Separate not yourself from your baggage.”
This ‘Oceana’ is a stately big ship, luxuriously6 appointed. She has spacious8 promenade9 decks. Large rooms; a surpassingly comfortable ship. The officers’ library is well selected; a ship’s library is not usually that . . . . For meals, the bugle10 call, man-of-war fashion; a pleasant change from the terrible gong . . . . Three big cats—very friendly loafers; they wander all over the ship; the white one follows the chief steward11 around like a dog. There is also a basket of kittens. One of these cats goes ashore12, in port, in England, Australia, and India, to see how his various families are getting along, and is seen no more till the ship is ready to sail. No one knows how he finds out the sailing date, but no doubt he comes down to the dock every day and takes a look, and when he sees baggage and passengers flocking in, recognizes that it is time to get aboard. This is what the sailors believe. . . .
The Chief Engineer has been in the China and India trade thirty three years, and has had but three Christmases at home in that time . . . . Conversational13 items at dinner, “Mocha! sold all over the world! It is not true. In fact, very few foreigners except the Emperor of Russia have ever seen a grain of it, or ever will, while they live.” Another man said: “There is no sale in Australia for Australian wine. But it goes to France and comes back with a French label on it, and then they buy it.” I have heard that the most of the French-labeled claret in New York is made in California. And I remember what Professor S. told me once about Veuve Cliquot—if that was the wine, and I think it was. He was the guest of a great wine merchant whose town was quite near that vineyard, and this merchant asked him if very much V. C. was drunk in America.
“Oh, yes,” said S., “a great abundance of it.”
“Is it easy to be had?”
“Oh, yes—easy as water. All first and second-class hotels have it.”
“What do you pay for it?”
“It depends on the style of the hotel—from fifteen to twenty-five francs a bottle.”
“Oh, fortunate country! Why, it’s worth 100 francs right here on the ground.”
“No!”
“Yes!”
“Do you mean that we are drinking a bogus Veuve-Cliquot over there?”
“Yes—and there was never a bottle of the genuine in America since Columbus’s time. That wine all comes from a little bit of a patch of ground which isn’t big enough to raise many bottles; and all of it that is produced goes every year to one person—the Emperor of Russia. He takes the whole crop in advance, be it big or little.”
January 4, 1896. Christmas in Melbourne, New Year’s Day in Adelaide, and saw most of the friends again in both places . . . . Lying here at anchor all day—Albany (King George’s Sound), Western Australia. It is a perfectly14 landlocked harbor, or roadstead—spacious to look at, but not deep water. Desolate-looking rocks and scarred hills. Plenty of ships arriving now, rushing to the new gold-fields. The papers are full of wonderful tales of the sort always to be heard in connection with new gold diggings. A sample: a youth staked out a claim and tried to sell half for L5; no takers; he stuck to it fourteen days, starving, then struck it rich and sold out for L10,000. . . About sunset, strong breeze blowing, got up the anchor. We were in a small deep puddle15, with a narrow channel leading out of it, minutely buoyed17, to the sea.
I stayed on deck to see how we were going to manage it with such a big ship and such a strong wind. On the bridge our giant captain, in uniform; at his side a little pilot in elaborately gold-laced uniform; on the forecastle a white mate and quartermaster or two, and a brilliant crowd of lascars standing18 by for business. Our stern was pointing straight at the head of the channel; so we must turn entirely19 around in the puddle—and the wind blowing as described. It was done, and beautifully. It was done by help of a jib. We stirred up much mud, but did not touch the bottom. We turned right around in our tracks—a seeming impossibility. We had several casts of quarter-less 5, and one cast of half 4—27 feet; we were drawing 26 astern. By the time we were entirely around and pointed7, the first buoy16 was not more than a hundred yards in front of us. It was a fine piece of work, and I was the only passenger that saw it. However, the others got their dinner; the P. & O. Company got mine . . . . More cats developed. Smythe says it is a British law that they must be carried; and he instanced a case of a ship not allowed to sail till she sent for a couple. The bill came, too: “Debtor, to 2 cats, 20 shillings.” . . . News comes that within this week Siam has acknowledged herself to be, in effect, a French province. It seems plain that all savage20 and semi-civilized countries are going to be grabbed . . . . A vulture on board; bald, red, queer-shaped head, featherless red places here and there on his body, intense great black eyes set in featherless rims21 of inflamed22 flesh; dissipated look; a businesslike style, a selfish, conscienceless, murderous aspect—the very look of a professional assassin, and yet a bird which does no murder. What was the use of getting him up in that tragic23 style for so innocent a trade as his? For this one isn’t the sort that wars upon the living, his diet is offal—and the more out of date it is the better he likes it. Nature should give him a suit of rusty24 black; then he would be all right, for he would look like an undertaker and would harmonize with his business; whereas the way he is now he is horribly out of true.
January 5. At 9 this morning we passed Cape25 Leeuwin (lioness) and ceased from our long due-west course along the southern shore of Australia. Turning this extreme southwestern corner, we now take a long straight slant26 nearly N. W., without a break, for Ceylon. As we speed northward27 it will grow hotter very fast—but it isn’t chilly28, now. . . . The vulture is from the public menagerie at Adelaide—a great and interesting collection. It was there that we saw the baby tiger solemnly spreading its mouth and trying to roar like its majestic29 mother. It swaggered, scowling30, back and forth31 on its short legs just as it had seen her do on her long ones, and now and then snarling32 viciously, exposing its teeth, with a threatening lift of its upper lip and bristling33 moustache; and when it thought it was impressing the visitors, it would spread its mouth wide and do that screechy34 cry which it meant for a roar, but which did not deceive. It took itself quite seriously, and was lovably comical. And there was a hyena—an ugly creature; as ugly as the tiger-kitty was pretty. It repeatedly arched its back and delivered itself of such a human cry; a startling resemblance; a cry which was just that of a grown person badly hurt. In the dark one would assuredly go to its assistance—and be disappointed . . . . Many friends of Australasian Federation35 on board. They feel sure that the good day is not far off, now. But there seems to be a party that would go further—have Australasia cut loose from the British Empire and set up housekeeping on her own hook. It seems an unwise idea. They point to the United States, but it seems to me that the cases lack a good deal of being alike. Australasia governs herself wholly—there is no interference; and her commerce and manufactures are not oppressed in any way. If our case had been the same we should not have gone out when we did.
January 13. Unspeakably hot. The equator is arriving again. We are within eight degrees of it. Ceylon present. Dear me, it is beautiful! And most sumptuously36 tropical, as to character of foliage37 and opulence38 of it. “What though the spicy39 breezes blow soft o’er Ceylon’s isle”—an eloquent40 line, an incomparable line; it says little, but conveys whole libraries of sentiment, and Oriental charm and mystery, and tropic deliciousness—a line that quivers and tingles41 with a thousand unexpressed and inexpressible things, things that haunt one and find no articulate voice . . . . Colombo, the capital. An Oriental town, most manifestly; and fascinating.
In this palatial42 ship the passengers dress for dinner. The ladies’ toilettes make a fine display of color, and this is in keeping with the elegance43 of the vessel’s furnishings and the flooding brilliancies of the electric light. On the stormy Atlantic one never sees a man in evening dress, except at the rarest intervals44; and then there is only one, not two; and he shows up but once on the voyage—the night before the ship makes port—the night when they have the “concert” and do the amateur wailings and recitations. He is the tenor45, as a rule . . . . There has been a deal of cricket-playing on board; it seems a queer game for a ship, but they enclose the promenade deck with nettings and keep the ball from flying overboard, and the sport goes very well, and is properly violent and exciting . . . . We must part from this vessel here.
January 14. Hotel Bristol. Servant Brompy. Alert, gentle, smiling, winning young brown creature as ever was. Beautiful shining black hair combed back like a woman’s, and knotted at the back of his head—tortoise-shell comb in it, sign that he is a Singhalese; slender, shapely form; jacket; under it is a beltless and flowing white cotton gown—from neck straight to heel; he and his outfit46 quite unmasculine. It was an embarrassment47 to undress before him.
We drove to the market, using the Japanese jinriksha—our first acquaintanceship with it. It is a light cart, with a native to draw it. He makes good speed for half-an-hour, but it is hard work for him; he is too slight for it. After the half-hour there is no more pleasure for you; your attention is all on the man, just as it would be on a tired horse, and necessarily your sympathy is there too. There’s a plenty of these ‘rickshas, and the tariff48 is incredibly cheap.
I was in Cairo years ago. That was Oriental, but there was a lack. When you are in Florida or New Orleans you are in the South—that is granted; but you are not in the South; you are in a modified South, a tempered South. Cairo was a tempered Orient—an Orient with an indefinite something wanting. That feeling was not present in Ceylon. Ceylon was Oriental in the last measure of completeness—utterly49 Oriental; also utterly tropical; and indeed to one’s unreasoning spiritual sense the two things belong together. All the requisites50 were present. The costumes were right; the black and brown exposures, unconscious of immodesty, were right; the juggler51 was there, with his basket, his snakes, his mongoose, and his arrangements for growing a tree from seed to foliage and ripe fruitage before one’s eyes; in sight were plants and flowers familiar to one on books but in no other way—celebrated, desirable, strange, but in production restricted to the hot belt of the equator; and out a little way in the country were the proper deadly snakes, and fierce beasts of prey52, and the wild elephant and the monkey. And there was that swoon in the air which one associates with the tropics, and that smother53 of heat, heavy with odors of unknown flowers, and that sudden invasion of purple gloom fissured54 with lightnings,—then the tumult55 of crashing thunder and the downpour and presently all sunny and smiling again; all these things were there; the conditions were complete, nothing was lacking. And away off in the deeps of the jungle and in the remotenesses of the mountains were the ruined cities and mouldering56 temples, mysterious relics57 of the pomps of a forgotten time and a vanished race—and this was as it should be, also, for nothing is quite satisfyingly Oriental that lacks the somber58 and impressive qualities of mystery and antiquity59.
The drive through the town and out to the Galle Face by the seashore, what a dream it was of tropical splendors60 of bloom and blossom, and Oriental conflagrations61 of costume! The walking groups of men, women, boys, girls, babies—each individual was a flame, each group a house afire for color. And such stunning62 colors, such intensely vivid colors, such rich and exquisite63 minglings and fusings of rainbows and lightnings! And all harmonious64, all in perfect taste; never a discordant65 note; never a color on any person swearing at another color on him or failing to harmonize faultlessly with the colors of any group the wearer might join. The stuffs were silk—thin, soft, delicate, clinging; and, as a rule, each piece a solid color: a splendid green, a splendid blue, a splendid yellow, a splendid purple, a splendid ruby66, deep, and rich with smouldering fires—they swept continuously by in crowds and legions and multitudes, glowing, flashing, burning, radiant; and every five seconds came a burst of blinding red that made a body catch his breath, and filled his heart with joy. And then, the unimaginable grace of those costumes! Sometimes a woman’s whole dress was but a scarf wound about her person and her head, sometimes a man’s was but a turban and a careless rag or two—in both cases generous areas of polished dark skin showing—but always the arrangement compelled the homage67 of the eye and made the heart sing for gladness.
I can see it to this day, that radiant panorama68, that wilderness69 of rich color, that incomparable dissolving-view of harmonious tints70, and lithe71 half-covered forms, and beautiful brown faces, and gracious and graceful72 gestures and attitudes and movements, free, unstudied, barren of stiffness and restraint, and—
Just then, into this dream of fairyland and paradise a grating dissonance was injected.
Out of a missionary73 school came marching, two and two, sixteen prim74 and pious75 little Christian76 black girls, Europeanly clothed—dressed, to the last detail, as they would have been dressed on a summer Sunday in an English or American village. Those clothes—oh, they were unspeakably ugly! Ugly, barbarous, destitute77 of taste, destitute of grace, repulsive78 as a shroud79. I looked at my womenfolk’s clothes—just full-grown duplicates of the outrages80 disguising those poor little abused creatures—and was ashamed to be seen in the street with them. Then I looked at my own clothes, and was ashamed to be seen in the street with myself.
However, we must put up with our clothes as they are—they have their reason for existing. They are on us to expose us—to advertise what we wear them to conceal1. They are a sign; a sign of insincerity; a sign of suppressed vanity; a pretense82 that we despise gorgeous colors and the graces of harmony and form; and we put them on to propagate that lie and back it up. But we do not deceive our neighbor; and when we step into Ceylon we realize that we have not even deceived ourselves. We do love brilliant colors and graceful costumes; and at home we will turn out in a storm to see them when the procession goes by—and envy the wearers. We go to the theater to look at them and grieve that we can’t be clothed like that. We go to the King’s ball, when we get a chance, and are glad of a sight of the splendid uniforms and the glittering orders. When we are granted permission to attend an imperial drawing-room we shut ourselves up in private and parade around in the theatrical83 court-dress by the hour, and admire ourselves in the glass, and are utterly happy; and every member of every governor’s staff in democratic America does the same with his grand new uniform—and if he is not watched he will get himself photographed in it, too. When I see the Lord Mayor’s footman I am dissatisfied with my lot. Yes, our clothes are a lie, and have been nothing short of that these hundred years. They are insincere, they are the ugly and appropriate outward exposure of an inward sham81 and a moral decay.
The last little brown boy I chanced to notice in the crowds and swarms84 of Colombo had nothing on but a twine85 string around his waist, but in my memory the frank honesty of his costume still stands out in pleasant contrast with the odious86 flummery in which the little Sunday-school dowdies were masquerading.
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1
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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concealment
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| n.隐藏, 掩盖，隐瞒 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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lustrous
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| adj.有光泽的；光辉的 | |
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vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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luxuriously
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| adv.奢侈地，豪华地 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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promenade
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| n./v.散步 | |
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bugle
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| n.军号，号角，喇叭；v.吹号，吹号召集 | |
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steward
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| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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conversational
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| adj.对话的，会话的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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puddle
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| n.(雨)水坑，泥潭 | |
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buoy
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| n.浮标；救生圈；v.支持，鼓励 | |
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buoyed
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| v.使浮起( buoy的过去式和过去分词 )；支持；为…设浮标；振奋…的精神 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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rims
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| n.（圆形物体的）边( rim的名词复数 )；缘；轮辋；轮圈 | |
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inflamed
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| adj.发炎的，红肿的v.（使）变红，发怒，过热( inflame的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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slant
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| v.倾斜，倾向性地编写或报道；n.斜面，倾向 | |
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northward
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| adv.向北；n.北方的地区 | |
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chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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scowling
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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snarling
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的现在分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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screechy
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| adj.声音尖锐的，喜欢尖声喊叫的 | |
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federation
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| n.同盟，联邦，联合，联盟，联合会 | |
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sumptuously
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| 奢侈地，豪华地 | |
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foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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opulence
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| n.财富，富裕 | |
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spicy
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| adj.加香料的；辛辣的，有风味的 | |
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eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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tingles
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| n.刺痛感( tingle的名词复数 )v.有刺痛感( tingle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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palatial
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| adj.宫殿般的，宏伟的 | |
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elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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tenor
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| n.男高音（歌手），次中音（乐器），要旨，大意 | |
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outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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tariff
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| n.关税，税率；(旅馆、饭店等)价目表，收费表 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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requisites
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| n.必要的事物( requisite的名词复数 ) | |
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juggler
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| n. 变戏法者, 行骗者 | |
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prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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smother
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| vt./vi.使窒息；抑制；闷死；n.浓烟；窒息 | |
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fissured
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| adj.裂缝的v.裂开( fissure的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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mouldering
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| v.腐朽( moulder的现在分词 )；腐烂，崩塌 | |
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relics
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| [pl.］n.遗物，遗迹，遗产；遗体，尸骸 | |
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somber
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| adj.昏暗的，阴天的，阴森的，忧郁的 | |
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antiquity
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| n.古老；高龄；古物，古迹 | |
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splendors
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| n.华丽( splendor的名词复数 )；壮丽；光辉；显赫 | |
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conflagrations
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| n.大火（灾）( conflagration的名词复数 ) | |
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stunning
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| adj.极好的；使人晕倒的 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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harmonious
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| adj.和睦的，调和的，和谐的，协调的 | |
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discordant
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| adj.不调和的 | |
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ruby
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| n.红宝石，红宝石色 | |
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homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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panorama
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| n.全景，全景画，全景摄影，全景照片[装置] | |
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wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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tints
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| 色彩( tint的名词复数 )； 带白的颜色； （淡色）染发剂； 痕迹 | |
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lithe
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| adj.(指人、身体)柔软的，易弯的 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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missionary
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| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
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prim
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| adj.拘泥形式的，一本正经的；n.循规蹈矩，整洁；adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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destitute
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| adj.缺乏的；穷困的 | |
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repulsive
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| adj.排斥的，使人反感的 | |
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shroud
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| n.裹尸布，寿衣；罩，幕；vt.覆盖，隐藏 | |
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outrages
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| 引起…的义愤，激怒( outrage的第三人称单数 ) | |
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sham
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| n./adj.假冒(的)，虚伪(的) | |
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pretense
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| n.矫饰，做作，借口 | |
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theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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swarms
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| 蜂群，一大群( swarm的名词复数 ) | |
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twine
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| v.搓，织，编饰；（使）缠绕 | |
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odious
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| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
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