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雙語·林肯傳 29

所屬教程:譯林版·林肯傳

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2022年06月02日

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29

The funeral train bearing Lincoln's body back to Illinois crawled through vast crowds of mourning people. The train itself was smothered in crepe; and the engine, like a hearse-horse, was covered with a huge black blanket trimmed with silver stars.

As it steamed northward faces began to appear beside the track—faces that rapidly multiplied in numbers and increased in sadness.

For miles before the train reached the Philadelphia station it ran between solid walls of humanity, and when it rolled into the city thousands of people were milling and jamming through the streets. Mourners stood in lines three miles long, stretching away from Independence Hall. They edged forward, inch by inch, for ten hours in order to look down at last upon Lincoln's face for but one second. On Saturday at midnight the doors were closed, but the mourners, refusing to be dispersed, kept their places all night long and by three o'clock Sunday morning the crowds were greater than ever and boys were selling their places in line for ten dollars.

Soldiers and mounted police fought to keep traffic lanes open, while hundreds of women fainted, and veterans who had fought at Gettysburg collapsed as they struggled to keep order.

For twenty-four hours before the funeral services were scheduled to take place in New York excursion trains running day and night poured into that city the greatest crowds it had ever known—crowds that filled the hotels and overflowed into private homes and backwashed across the parks and onto steamboat piers.

The next day sixteen white horses, ridden by Negroes, pulled the hearse up Broadway, while women, frantic with grief, tossed flowers in its path. Behind came the tramp, tramp, tramp of marching feet—a hundred and sixty thousand mourners with swaying banners bearing quotations like these: “Ah, the pity of it, Iago—the pity of it!”... “Be still, and know that I am God.”

Half a million spectators fought and trampled upon one another in an effort to view the long procession. Second-story windows facing Broadway were rented for forty dollars each, and window-panes were removed in order that the openings might accommodate as many heads as possible.

Choirs robed in white sang hymns on street corners, marching bands wailed their dirges, and at intervals of sixty seconds the roar of a hundred cannon reverberated over the town.

As the crowds sobbed by the bier in City Hall, New York, many spoke to the dead man, some tried to touch his face; and, while the guard was not looking, one woman bent over and kissed the corpse.

When the casket was closed in New York, at noon on Tuesday, thousands who had been unable to view the remains hurried to the trains and sped westward to other points where the funeral car was scheduled to stop. From now on until it reached Springfield the funeral train was seldom out of the sound of tolling bells and booming guns. By day it ran under arches of evergreens and flowers and past hillsides covered with children waving flags; by night its passing was illumined by countless torches and flaming bonfires stretching half-way across the continent.

The country was in a frenzy of excitement. No such funeral had ever before been witnessed, in all history. Weak minds here and there snapped under the strain. A young man in New York slashed his throat with a razor, crying, “I am going to join Abraham Lincoln.”

Forty-eight hours after the assassination a committee from Springfield had hurried to Washington, pleading with Mrs. Lincoln to have her husband buried in his home town. At first, she was sharply opposed to the suggestion. She had hardly a friend left in Springfield, and she knew it. True, she had three sisters living there, but she thoroughly disliked two of them and despised the third one, and she felt nothing but contempt for the rest of the gossiping little village.

“My God, Elizabeth!” she said to her colored dressmaker, “I can never go back to Springfield.”

So she planned to have Lincoln interred in Chicago or placed under the dome of the National Capitol, in the tomb originally constructed for George Washington.

However, after seven days of pleading, she consented to have the body taken back to Springfield. The town raised a public fund, bought a beautiful tract of land consisting of four city blocks—now occupied by the State Capitol—and set men digging day and night.

Finally, on the morning of May 4, the funeral train was in town, the tomb was ready, and thousands of Lincoln's old friends had forgathered for the services, when Mrs. Lincoln, in a sudden rage of erratic temper, countermanded all plans and haughtily decreed that the body must be interred, not where the tomb had been built, but in the Oak Ridge Cemetery, two miles out in the woods.

There were to be no ifs or ands or buts about it. If she did not have her way, she threatened to use “violent” means to carry the remains back to Washington. Why? For a very unlovely reason: the tomb that had been erected in the middle of Springfield stood on what was known as the “Mather block,” and Mrs. Lincoln despised the Mather family. Years before, one of the Mathers had, in some way, aroused her fiery wrath; and now, even in the hushed presence of death, she still cherished her bitter resentment, and would not consent to let Lincoln's body lie for one single night on ground that had been contaminated by the Mathers.

For a quarter of a century this woman had lived under the same roof with a husband who had had “malice toward none,” and “charity for all.” But like the Bourbon kings of France, she had learned nothing, she had forgotten nothing.

Springfield had to bow to the widow's mandate; and so at eleven o'clock the remains were taken out to a public vault in Oak Ridge Cemetery. Fighting Joe Hooker rode ahead of the hearse; and behind it was led Old Buck, covered with a red, white, and blue blanket on which were embroidered the words, “Old Abe's Horse.”

By the time Old Buck got back to his stable, there was not a shred of the blanket left; souvenir-hunters had stripped him bare. And, like buzzards, they swooped down upon the empty hearse, snatching at the draperies and fighting over it until soldiers charged them with bayonets.

For five weeks after the assassination Mrs. Lincoln lay weeping in the White House, refusing to leave her chamber night or day.

Elizabeth Keckley, who was at her bedside during all this time, wrote:

I shall never forget the scene. The wails of a broken heart, the unearthly shrieks, the terrible convulsions, the wild, tempestuous outbursts of grief from the soul. I bathed Mrs. Lincoln's head with cold water, and soothed the terrible tornado as best I could.

Tad's grief at his father's death was as great as the grief of his mother, but her terrible outbursts awed the boy into silence....

Often at night, when Tad would hear her sobbing, he would get up, and come to her bed in his white sleeping-clothes: “Don't cry, Mamma; I can't sleep if you cry! Papa was good, and he has gone to Heaven. He is happy there. He is with God and brother Willie. Don't cry, Mamma, or I will cry too.”

29

載著林肯遺體的送葬列車穿過一波又一波哀悼的人群,緩緩地向伊利諾伊州駛?cè)?。列車上蓋著一層厚厚的縐紗,列車引擎則像馱棺木的馬兒一樣披上了一條點綴著銀色星星的黑色毯子。

當列車一路向北駛?cè)サ臅r候,鐵路旁出現(xiàn)了越來越多充滿了悲傷的臉龐。

列車離費城車站還有數(shù)英里的時候,鐵路兩旁的人便站成了一堵堵厚厚的人墻。當列車入城的時候,成千上萬的民眾涌上街頭,將馬路擠得水泄不通。獨立大廳的哀悼者們排成的長隊綿延了三英里。他們緩緩地一寸一寸地向前移動,堅持了數(shù)十小時,只為最后再瞻仰一眼林肯的面容。到了周六午夜,公共場所的門都要關閉,但是哀悼的人群不愿散去,在原地站了一晚。到周日凌晨三點的時候,等候的人群前所未有的龐大,男孩們以十美金的價格向外出售他們所在的位置。

數(shù)百位婦女暈倒了,許多參加過葛底斯堡戰(zhàn)役的老兵在努力維持秩序時也暈倒了,士兵和騎著馬的警察們盡力疏通著道路。按照計劃,葬禮將在紐約舉行。

在葬禮開始前二十四個小時,游覽列車便日夜不停地將一波又一波的民眾運送了過來。紐約從來沒有過這么大的客流量——人們先占據(jù)了所有的旅館,接著是民宿,最后是公園和蒸汽船碼頭。

第二天,十六名黑人騎著十六匹白色的駿馬,拉著靈柩沿著百老匯大街緩緩而行。女人們陷入了瘋狂的悲傷之中,紛紛將手中的鮮花扔到靈車前方的道路上。靈車后面?zhèn)鱽沓林氐哪_步聲——十六萬哀悼者列隊跟隨著靈車前行。他們手中搖曳著旗幟,旗幟上寫著:“??!多么可惜??!埃古——多么可惜?。 ?1)……“你們要休息,要知道我是神?!?2)

五十萬觀眾爭先恐后地相互推搡,只為看一看那長長的送葬隊伍。百老匯大街兩旁對著街面的二樓靠窗處,每個位子要四十美金的租金。為了容納更多人,那些窗戶的玻璃都被拆掉了。

身著白袍的唱詩班站在街角唱著贊美詩;軍樂隊奏著悲傷的哀歌;每隔六十秒,城市上空便會響起一百門加農(nóng)炮的轟隆聲。

林肯的靈柩放在紐約市政廳,哭泣的人群圍繞在他周圍,有的和他說話,有的試圖觸摸他的臉龐。一位婦女趁警衛(wèi)不注意的時候彎下腰親吻了林肯的遺體。

周二中午,林肯的棺木合上了。成千上萬個沒能瞻仰林肯遺容的人立刻向西朝著送葬列車預計停留的幾個城市涌去。在去往春田市的路上,送葬列車無時無刻不被肅穆的鐘聲和轟鳴的禮炮聲包圍。白天,送葬列車在常青藤和鮮花扎成的拱門下穿梭,在孩子們揮舞著旗幟的山坡旁疾馳。晚上,為送葬列車照明的火把和篝火照亮了幾乎半個北美大陸。

整個國家陷入了瘋狂。歷史上還從未有過如此盛大的葬禮。到處都有脆弱的民眾因為過度傷心而倒下。紐約的一位年輕人哭喊著“我要去陪亞伯拉罕·林肯”,隨后便用剃刀抹了脖子。

暗殺發(fā)生四十八小時后,春田市的一個委員會匆忙趕到了華盛頓,懇請林肯夫人同意將她的丈夫安葬在家鄉(xiāng)。一開始,林肯夫人是堅決不同意的。她在春田市幾乎沒有朋友。她自己也很清楚這一點。確實,她在春田市有三個姐妹,但她十分討厭其中兩個,對剩下的那個又充滿了鄙視。在林肯夫人心里,她根本就看不起那個流傳著閑言碎語的小鎮(zhèn)。

“上帝啊,伊麗莎白!”她對自己的黑人裁縫說,“我絕不再回春田市?!?/p>

于是她計劃將林肯安葬在芝加哥,或者安葬在國會大廈原本為喬治·華盛頓建造的墳墓中。

然而,委員會懇求了林肯夫人七天,最終讓她同意將林肯的遺體帶回春田市。春田市設立了一個公共基金會,買下了一片包含了四個城市街區(qū)的美麗土地——這塊地現(xiàn)在已成為了州議會大廈——并派人日夜不停地趕工建造墓園。

最終,送葬列車在五月四日的時候緩緩駛?cè)氪禾锸?。墓園已完工,數(shù)千名林肯的舊識相聚一堂,準備參加林肯的葬禮??墒切郧楣殴值牧挚戏蛉藚s突然取消了所有計劃,不準林肯下葬在剛建好的墓地,并傲慢地下令將林肯的遺體葬入兩英里外的橡樹嶺公墓。

沒有商量余地,林肯夫人發(fā)狠說,如果不按照她的要求做,她就要用“暴力”方式將林肯的遺體帶回華盛頓。林肯夫人為什么要這么做呢?原因十分令人厭惡:建在春田市中心的墓園所在的土地被稱為“馬瑟街”,而林肯夫人看不起馬瑟家族。數(shù)年前,馬瑟家族的人不知怎的惹怒了林肯夫人,于是現(xiàn)在,即便在肅靜的死亡面前,她仍舊對舊時的仇怨耿耿于懷,甚至不愿林肯的遺體在被馬瑟家族污染過的土地上待哪怕是一夜。

這個女人與她那“對任何人都毫無惡意”、“對所有人都心懷憐憫”的丈夫在同一屋檐下共同生活了二十五年,但就像法國的波旁王朝的國王一樣,她什么也沒學會,只記住了所有的仇恨。

春田市不得不向這位遺孀屈服,于是十一點的時候,林肯的遺體被移了出來,放在了橡樹嶺公墓的公共納骨堂?!岸肥繂獭ず恕彬T馬走在棺木前面,“老公鹿”跟在棺木后面,身上披著一條紅白藍相間的毯子,毯子上繡著“老亞伯的愛駒”。

待“老公鹿”回到馬廄時,它身上的毯子連碎片都不見了。爭奪紀念品的人們早已將它洗劫一空。他們像禿鷹一樣朝著棺木撲去,爭奪、撕搶著覆蓋在棺木上的殮布,直到端著刺刀的士兵向他們沖去才罷手。

林肯遭遇暗殺后,林肯夫人日夜哭泣,整整五個星期躺在白宮的房間里不出門。

那段時間,伊麗莎白·凱克利一直陪伴在林肯夫人身邊。她寫道:

我永遠也忘不了那個場景:傷心欲絕的慟哭聲,可怕的尖叫聲,恐怖的抽搐,還有來自靈魂深處悲痛的宣泄。我用冷水為林肯夫人洗頭,盡我所能地撫慰她悲傷的心靈。

對于父親的去世,泰德的傷心并不比他母親少。但林肯夫人可怕的情緒把孩子嚇得一言不發(fā)……

晚上的時候,泰德聽到母親的哭泣聲后便會起床,穿著他的白色睡衣來到她的床邊安慰她:“媽媽,別哭了。你哭得我睡不著。爸爸是個好人,他去了天堂。他在那里很快樂。他和上帝以及威利哥哥在一起。媽媽,別哭了,否則我也要哭了?!?/p>

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