rather
say, ironic wit? For they range all the way from the most mordant to
the most pathetic irony--from Mephistophelean laughter to warm, human
tears:

"_Sunt lachrymae rerum._"

"Make a reputation first by your more solid achievements," counselled
Oliver Wendell Holmes. "You can't expect to do anything great with
Macbeth, if you first come on flourishing Paul Pry's umbrella." Mark
Twain has had to pay in full the penalty of comic greatness. The world
is loth to accept a popular character at any rating other than its own.
Whosoever sets himself the task of amusing the world must realize the
almost insuperable difficulty of inducing the world to regard him as a
serious thinker. Says Moliere--

"_C'est une etrange entreprise que celle
de faire rire les honnetes gens._"

The strangeness of the undertaking is no less pronounced than the rigour
of its obligations. Mark Twain began his career as a professional
humorist and fun-maker; he frankly donned the motley, the cap and bells.
The man-in-the-street is not easily persuaded that the basis of the
comic is, not uncommon nonsense, but glorified common-sense. The French
have a fine-flavoured distinction in _ce qui remue_ from _ce qui emeut_;
and if _remuage_ is the defining characteristic of 'A Tramp Abroad',
'Roughing It', and 'The Innocents Abroad', there is much of deep
seriousness and genuine emotion in 'Life on the Mississippi', 'Tom
Sawyer', 'Huckleberry Finn', and 'Pudd'nhead Wilson'. In the course of
his lifetime, Mark Twain evolved from a fun-maker into a masterly
humorist, from a sensational journalist into a literary artist. In
explanation of this, let us recall the steps in that evolution. In his
youth, this boy had no schooling worth speaking of; he lived in an
environment that promised only stagnation and decay. As the young boy,
barefooted and dirty, watched the steamboats pass and repass upon the
surface of that great inland deep, the Mississippi, he conceived the
ambition and the ideal of learning to know and to master that mysterious
water. His dream, in time, was realized; he not only became a pilot,
but--which is infinitely more significant--he changed from a callow,
indolent, unobservant lad, with undeveloped faculties, to a man, a
master of the river, with a knowledge which, in its accuracy and
minuteness, was, for its purpose, all-sufficient and complete.

I have always felt that,