Adam and the Fall
Imagery pervades this work by Twain, but the primary purpose of its engagement is to cast a new, satirically offbeat, perspective on some of the oldest and most familiar images in the history of western civilization. For instance, the image presented of Adam when he is forced to accept blame for their fall from Eden due to his penchant for thinking up jokes that usually remain unspoken, two shocks follow upon each other. One, this is hardly the image of Adam that humanity has grown use to. And then: Twain’s image of Adam is far more interesting than the original, character-wise:
“I was thinking about the Falls, and I said to myself, 1How wonderful it is to see that vast body of water tumble down there!’ Then in an instant a bright thought flashed into my head, and I let it fly, saying, `It would be a deal more wonderful to see it tumble up there!’—and I was just about to kill myself with laughing at it when all nature broke loose in war and death, and I had to flee for my life.”
A Talker...She Had to be a Talker!
Another bit of Biblical imagery that comes under scrutiny is the conventional wisdom that Adam immediately and joyfully accepted Eve into his paradise after having it all to himself. Consider when your own peaceful serenity is rudely interrupted by a guest you never requested:
“The new creature [Eve] intruded…I wish it would not talk; it is always talking...I have never heard the human voice before, and any new and strange sound intruding itself here upon the solemn hush of these dreaming solitudes offends my ear and seems a false note. And this new sound is so close to me; it is right at my shoulder, right at my ear, first on one side and then on the other, and I am used only to sounds that are more or less distant from me.”
For a work of satire—and one that may welcomes itself to charges of sacrilege—this is a scene that is incredibly poignant and touching at the very same time it is immediately recognizable to literally billions of husbands familiar with the original.
Some Assembly Required
Scripture is a bit skimpy on the details regarding the arrival of Cain (and, later, Abel) so Twain is working with a bit more latitude in recreating the story with his own imagery. The story of the first human to ever sport a belly-button—presumably—cannot even legitimately argue against charges of sacrilege. Here, Twain rolls the marbles:
“the difference in size [of the creature they name Cain] warrants the conclusion that it is a different and new kind of animal—a fish, perhaps, though when I put it in the water to see, it sank… It makes curious, devilish noises when not satisfied…The kangaroo [still speaking of Cain] still continues to grow, which is very strange and perplexing I am like to lose my mind over the capricious and harassing developments of this unclassifiable zoological freak.”
The brilliance of Twain on display here is that he does not even have to come right out and ask the reader to wonder what it would be like to have come into existence fully completed and then suddenly be presented with a baby, which, it must be admitted, even to 21st century eyes looks more than a little freakish in comparison to how it will look just a few years later.
Witness to the Creation
Eve’s diary entries suggest that when God created her, he had not yet completely put the finishing touches on the creation of the world. Twain takes advantage of this conceit to present imagery not found in the Bible: what the creation looked like to human eyes:
“Everything looks better today than it did yesterday. In the rush of finishing up yesterday, the mountains were left in a ragged condition, and some of the plains were so cluttered with rubbish and remnants...too many stars in some places and not enough in others…moon got loose last night, and slid down and fell out of the scheme—a very great loss; it breaks my heart to think of it.”
