马克·吐温/Mark Twain

　　A few months ago I was nominated for Governor of the great state of New York, to run against Stewart L. woodford and John 7. Hoffman, on an independent ticket. I somehow felt that I had one prominent advantage over these gentlemen, and that was—good character. It was easy to see by the newspapers that if ever they had known what it was to bear a good name, that time had gone by. It was plain that in these latter years they had become familiar with all manner of shameful crimes. But at the very moment that I was exalting my advantage and joying in it in secret, there was a muddy undercurrent of discomfort "riling" the deeps of my happiness, and that was—the having to hear my name bandied about in familiar connection with those of such people. I grew more and more disturbed. Finally I wrote my grandmother about it. Her answer came quick and sharp. She said: You have never done one single thing in all your life to be ashamed of—not one. Look at the newspapers—look at them and comprehend what sort of characters Messrs. Smith and Blank are, and then see if you are willing to lower yourself to their level and enter a public canvass with them.

　　It was my very thought! I did not sleep a single moment that night. But, after all, I could not recede.

　　I was fully committed, and must go on with the fight.

　　As I was looking listlessly over the papers at breakfast I came across this paragraph, and I may truly say I never was so confounded before.

　　PERJURY.—Perhaps, now that Mr. Mark Twain is before the people as a candidate for Governor, he will condescend to explain how he came to be convicted of perjury by thirty-four witnesses in Wakawak, Cochin China, in 1863, the intent of which perjury being to rob a poor native widow and her helpless family of a meager plantainpatch, their only stay and support in their bereavement and desolation.

　　Mr. Twain owes it to himself, as well as to the great people whose suffrages he asks, to clear this matter up. Will he do it?

　　I thought I should burst with amazement! Such a cruel, heartless charge! I never had seen Cochin China! I never had heard of Wakawak! I didn't know a plantain-patch from a kangaroo! I did not know what to do. I was crazed and helpless. I let the day slip away without doing anything at all. The next morning the same paper had his—nothing more:

　　SIGNIFICANT.—Mr. Twain, it will be observed, is suggestively silent about the Cochin China perjury.

　　[Mem.—During the rest of the campaign this paper never referred to me in any other way than as "the infamous perjurer Twain" . ]

　　Next came the "Gazette", with this:

　　WANTED TO KNOW—Will the new candidate for Governor deign to explain to certain of his fellow-citizens who are suffering to vote for him! the little circumstance of his cabin-mates in Montana losing small valuables from time to time, until at last, these things having been invariably found on Mr. Twain's person or in his "trunk" (newspaper he rolled his traps in), they felt compelled to give him a friendly admonition for his own good, and so tarred and feathered him, and rode him on a rail; and then advised him to leave a permanent vacuum in the place he usually occupied in the camp. Will he do this?

　　Could anything be more deliberately malicious than that? For I never was in Montana in my life.

　　[After this, this journal customarily spoke of me as, "Twain, the Montana Thief." ]

　　I got to picking up papers apprehensively—much as one would lift a desired blanket which he had some idea might have a rattlesnake under it.

　　One day this met my eye:

　　THE LIE NAILED.—By the sworn affidavits of Michael O'Flanagan, Esq., of the Five Points, and Mr. Kit Burns and Mr. John Allen, of Water Street, it is established that Mr. Mark Twain's vile statement that the lamented grandfather of our noble standardbearer, John T. Hoffman, was hanged for highway robbery, is a brutal and gratuitous LIE, without a shadow of foundation in fact. It is disheartening to virtuous men to see such shameful means resorted to achieve political success as the attacking of the dead in their graves, and defiling their honored names with slander. When we think of the anguish this miserable falsehood must cause the innocent relatives and friends of the deceased, we are almost driven to incite an outraged and insulted public to summary and unlawful vengeance upon the traducer. But no! Let us leave him to the agony of a lacerated conscience (though if passion should get the better of the public, and in its blind fury they should do the traducer bodily injury, it is but too obvious that no jury could convict and no court punish the perpetrators of the deed).

　　The ingenious closing sentence had the effect of moving me out of bed with despatch that night, and out at the back door also, while the "outraged and insulted public" surged in the front way, breaking furniture and windows in their righteous indignation as they came, and taking off such property as they could carry when they went. And yet I can lay my hand upon the Book and say that I never slandered Covernor Hoffman's grandfather. More-I had never even heard of him or mentioned him up to that day and date.

　　[I will state, in passing, that the journal above quoted from always referred to me afterward as "Twain, the Body-Snatcher." ]

　　The next newspaper article that attracted my attention was the following:

　　A SWEET CANDIDATE.—Mr. Mark Twain, who was to make such a blighting speech at the mass-meeting of the Independents last night, didn't come to time! A telegram from his physician stated that he had been knocked down by a runaway team, and his leg broken in two places—sufferer lying in great agony, and so forth, and so forth, and a lot more bosh of the same sort. And the Independents tried hard to swallow the wretched subterfuge, and pretend that they did not know what was the real reason of the absence of the abandoned creature whom they denominate their standard-bearer. A certain man was seen to reel into Mr. Twain's hotel last night in a state of beastly intoxication. It is the imperative duty of the Independents to prove that this besotted brute was not Mark Twain himself. We have them at last! This is a case that admits of no shirking. The voice of the people demands in thunder tones, "WHO WAS THAT MAN?"

　　It was incredible, absolutely incredible, for a moment, that it was really my name that was coupled with this disgraceful suspicion. Three long years had passed over my head since I had tasted ale, beer, wine or liquor or any kind.

　　[It shows what effect the times were having on me when I say that I saw myself, confidently dubbed "Mr. Delirium Tremens Twain" in the next issue of that journal without a pang—notwithstanding I knew that with monotonous fidelity the paper would go on calling me so to the very end.]

　　By this time anonymous letters were getting to be an important part of my mail matter. This form was common:

　　How about that old woman you kicked of your premises which was being?

　　POL. PRY.

　　And this:

　　There is things which you have done which is unbeknown to anybody but me. You better trot out a few dots, to yours truly, or you' ll hear through the papers from.

　　HANDY ANDY.

　　This is about the idea. I could continue them till the reader was surfeited, if desirable.

　　Shortly the principal Republican journal "convicted" me of wholesale bribery, and the leading Democratic paper "nailed" an aggravated case of blackmailing to me.

　　[In this way I acquired two additional names: "Twain the Filthy Corruptionist" and "Twain the Loathsome Embracer" .]

　　By this time there had grown to be such a clamor for an "answer" to all the dreadful charges that were laid to me that the editors and leaders of my party said it would be political ruin for me to remain silent any longer. As if to make their appeal the more imperative, the following appeared in one of the papers the very next day:

　　BEHOLD THE MAN! —The independent candidate still maintains silence. Because he dare not speak. Every accusation against him has been amply proved, and they have been indorsed and reendorsed by his own eloquent silence, till at this day he stands forever convicted. Look upon your candidate, Independents! Look upon the Infamous Perjurer! The Montana Thief! The Body-Snatcher! Contemplate your incarnate Delirium Tremens! Your Filthy Corruptionist! Your Loathsome Embracer! Gaze upon him—ponder him well—and then say if you can give your honest votes to a creature who has earned this dismal array of titles by his hideous crimes, and dares not open his mouth in denial of any one of them!

　　There was no possible way of getting out of it, and so, in deep humiliation, I set about preparing to "answer" a mass of baseless charges and mean and wicked falsehoods. But I never finished the task, for the very next morning a paper came out with a new horror, a fresh malignity, and seriously charged me with burning a lunatic asylum with all its inmates, because it obstructed the view from my house. This threw me into a sort of panic. Then came the charge of poisoning my uncle to get his property, with an imperative demand that the grave should be opened. This drove me to the verge of distraction. On top of this I was accused of employing toothless and incompetent old relatives to prepare the food for the foundling's hospital when I warden. I was wavering—wavering. And at last, as a due and fitting climax to the shameless persecution that party rancor had inflicted upon me, nine little toddling children, of all shades of color and degrees of raggedness, were taught to rush onto the platform at a public meeting, and clasp me around the legs and call me PA!

　　I gave it up. I hauled down my colors and surrendered. I was not equal to the requirements of a Gubernatorial campaign in the state of New York, and so I sent in my withdrawal from the candidacy, and in bitterness of spirit signed it:

　　"Truly yours, once a decent man, but now MARK TWAIN, LP., M.T., B.S., D.T., F.C., and L.E."

　　数月前，纽约州选举州长时，我被提名为候选人，与斯坦华脱·勒·伍福特先生和约翰·特·霍夫曼先生自由竞选。不知为什么，我总觉得自己比起这两位先生来，有一个显著的有利条件，那就是——优秀的人品。很显然，看报纸就知道：这两位绅士自知爱护名声的时代已经过去。最近几年来，他们对于各种无耻罪行似乎已经习以为常了。但是，在这个时候，尽管我暗自为自己的有利条件欢欣雀跃，但总有一股不安搅动我的心弦，那就是——我不得不让自己的名字与此类人搅在一起四处传播。我心里越来越乱，最后写信给祖母，向她说起此世。很快，我收到了她言辞颇为苛刻的回信，她说：“此生你为人处世，从未愧对他人——从未有过。看看报纸——看看伍福特和霍夫曼究竟何许人也，再想想，你是否愿意降低自己的水平，跟他们一起竞选。”

　　我内心的想法正是如此！那晚我辗转难眠。但是，不管怎样，我不能就这样放弃。

　　我已身陷其中，必须继续战斗。

　　吃早餐时，我无精打采地翻阅报纸。无意中看到这样一段话，顿时感到前所未有的惊慌：

　　伪证罪——现在马克·吐温先生既然以州长候选人的身份出现在公众面前，那么或许他应该谦逊地解释一下如下事件：1863年，在交趾支那的瓦卡瓦克，三十四人指证马克·吐温先生犯有伪证罪：他企图掠夺一小块芭蕉种植地，那是当地一位寡妇和她的家人失去亲人后在悲惨境遇里赖以活命的生活来源。

　　为了他自己，更为了那些他恳请投票选举他的伟大人民，马克·吐温先生有责任澄清此事，他会这样做吗？

　　我惊讶得目瞪口呆！竟有如此残酷、无情的指控！我从未到过交趾支那！什么瓦卡瓦克，更是闻所未闻！至于芭蕉种植地，我甚至都不知道它跟袋鼠有什么区别！我不知所措，简直快要疯了。那一天，我什么也没做就混沌地过去了。第二天早晨，这家报纸只说了这样一句话——再无他言：

　　意味深长——众人都注意到：对于交趾支那伪证案件，吐温先生没有任何言辞，令人深省。

　　（备注——从此以后，这家报纸在竞选活动中提到我，必称“声名狼藉的伪证犯吐温”。）

　　接下来，《新闻报》里登了这么一段：

　　需要查清——新任州长候选人能否向急于投他一票的同胞做个解释？在蒙大那州野营时，吐温先生的室友们经常丢些细小的贵重物品，而后，人们总会在吐温先生的私人物品或“箱子”（他用来卷随身物品的报纸）里发现这些东西。大家为他好，不得不对他进行友好的告诫，在他全身涂满焦油，粘上羽毛，叫他坐木杠并把他永远地赶出帐篷，让出铺位。他会对此做出解释吗？

　　还有比这更用心险恶的控告吗？我这辈子还从未去过蒙大那州。

　　（按惯例，这家报纸此后提到我，就叫“蒙大那的小偷吐温”。）

　　于是，我一拿起报纸就不免心惊胆战——好像你想睡觉时，掀开毯子，总担心里面有条蛇似的。

　　我又看到这样一段话：

　　谎言已被揭穿——五方位区的密凯尔·奥弗拉纳根先生、华脱街的吉特·彭斯先生和约翰·艾伦先生已宣誓证实。根据他们的誓词，马克·吐温先生曾声称我们尊贵的领袖约翰·特·霍夫曼先生的祖父因拦路抢劫而被处死的论调已被确认纯属谎言。他为了达到政治上的成功，而不惜采取卑劣手段，毁谤先人，玷污他们的英名，实在令人遗憾。他卑劣的谎言必定会使逝者无辜的亲友蒙冤受辱，这种想法几乎迫使我们义愤填膺的、被侮辱的公众，毫不犹豫地用非法手段报复诽谤者。但是，我们不能如此！让他在道德的强烈谴责中饱受煎熬吧！（但是，如果公众激愤难平，鲁莽行事，可能会对诽谤者进行人身伤害，显然，陪审团不能给肇事者定罪，法庭也不能加以惩处。）

　　最后这句极富创造性的话，吓得我那天晚上从**爬起，从后门溜了出去。因为“义愤填膺的被侮辱的公众”从我家前门涌进来，满怀激愤地砸坏了家具和门窗，卷走了能带走的所有财物。可是，我可以把手按在《圣经》上起誓，我从未诽谤过霍夫曼州长的祖父，甚至都没有听说过他，更从未谈起过他。

　　（顺便提一句，那家报纸刊登了这则新闻后，提到我时，前面总会加一个“拐尸犯吐温”的称号。）

　　那家报纸接下来的一篇文章吸引了我的注意：

　　好个候选人——昨晚的独立党民众大会上，马克·吐温先生本打算作一次诋毁竞争对手的演说，但他却未如期而来。他的医生传来一份电报，说他被几匹狂奔的拉车的马撞倒在地，腿部两处受伤——痛苦不堪地躺在**等类似的胡言乱语。这样拙劣的托词，独立党人也只好竭力掩饰。至于被他们提名为领袖的这个人——这个**不羁的家伙未曾出席大会的真正原因，他们都假装不知道。昨天晚上，一个可靠的人看见一个醉鬼摇摇晃晃地进入马克·吐温先生所住的旅馆内。证明那个醉汉不是马克·吐温先生本人，是独立党人不可推卸的责任。我们终于抓住他们了！这件事已毋庸置疑！人们的控诉响彻云霄：“那个人是谁？”

　　真令人难以置信，简直不可思议，我的名字竟然与这个可耻的猜疑联系在一起。整整三年了，我从未沾过一滴啤酒、葡萄酒或其他任何一种酒。

　　（在这家报纸上，后来我看见自己的名字前都加上“酒疯子吐温先生”。我知道它会一直这样称呼下去，但我却没有感到一丝痛苦，可见其影响有多大。）

　　这个时候，匿名信占到了我所有邮件中最主要的部分，一般是用这样的格式：

　　那个被你从寓所门口一脚踢开的讨饭的老婆婆，现在怎样了？

　　好管闲事者

　　还有这样写的：

　　只有我知道你干的好事，你最好掏点钱来孝敬我，否则，报上见。

　　惹不起

　　内容大都如此，如果读者还想听，我可以接着引用下去，直到看得你恶心为止。

　　不久以后，我又被共和党的主要报纸“判定”犯有重大贿赂罪，而民主党的报纸又在我头上“栽赃”了一桩勒索案，并大肆渲染。

　　（这样一来，我又被扣上了两个罪名：“肮脏的贿赂犯吐温”和“令人恶心的讹诈犯吐温”。）

　　到这个时候，公众也一片哗然，呼声震天，要求我对那些可怕的指控作一个“答复”。就连我们党的报刊编辑和领导们都对我说，如果我再缄默不语，我的政治生涯将就此终结。这好像是要促使他们作出更蛮横的控诉似的。就在第二天，一家报纸上出现了这样一段话：

　　明察此人！——独立党的这位候选人始终保持沉默，因为他不敢发表言论。控告他的每一条罪名都证据确凿，它们已完全得到了证实，并且他意味深长的缄默也足以说明一切，他的罪名始终成立。独立党的同胞们，看看你们这位候选人吧！看看这臭名昭著的伪证犯！蒙大那的小偷！拐尸犯！好好审视这个精神错乱的酒疯子吧！你们这位肮脏的贿赂犯！令人恶心的讹诈犯！好好看着他——仔细打量——然后看你们是否愿意把自己最真诚的选票，投给这样一个犯下丑恶罪行，获得一大串令人心痛的称号，却始终不敢张口否认任何一条控告的家伙。

　　我实在无力摆脱这种困境。面对那一堆毫无根据的指控和卑鄙的谎言，我只好满怀耻辱地准备予以“答复”，但这个任务我始终无法完成。因为，一家报纸第二天又刊登了一桩新的恐怖案件，再次严厉地控诉我，说我放火烧毁了一座疯人院，院里的病人无一幸免，只因为它挡住了我家看风景的视线。这让我惶惶不可终日。后来，又有人控告我毒死自己的叔叔，霸占了他的财产。他们还极为严肃地要求开棺验尸。我简直要崩溃了。更有甚者，竟然控告我雇佣老掉了牙、年老体衰的亲戚为自己负责的育婴堂做饭。我开始把持不住了——摇摆不定。最后，这种无耻的迫害达到了**：九个蹒跚学步的幼儿，肤色各异，他们穿着各种各样的破烂不堪的衣服，被人唆使冲上一次民众大会的讲台，抱住我的双腿，叫我“爸爸”！

　　我放弃了，我降旗宣布投降。我达不到参加纽约州州长竞选所要求的条件。所以，我发表声明，决定退出竞选，痛苦地签下了自己的名字：

　　“你忠实的朋友，曾经的正派人，现在却成了伪证犯、小偷、拐尸犯、酒疯子、贿赂犯和讹诈犯的马克·吐温。”

　　心灵小语

　　本文是作者根据自己1868年去纽约采访州长竞选的素材写成的一篇政治讽刺小说，文中既有对社会现实的本质揭露，又有艺术夸张。文章通过一个独立党人——“我”在“声望还好”时参加竞选而遭到种种指控、诬蔑和攻击，以致“声名狼藉”，退出竞选的过程的描写，深刻地揭露了资产阶级标榜的“民主选举”的实质，辛辣地讽刺了资本主义世界的“民主政治”的虚伪性。

　　W词汇笔记

　　nominate ['n?mineit] v. 提名；任命；指定

　　例 I nominate Bill for club president.

　　我提名比尔为俱乐部主任候选人。

　　bereavement [bi'ri:vm?nt] n. 丧失；丧友；丧亲

　　例 Her daughter is a great solace to her in her bereavement.

　　在她丧夫之时，她的女儿是她极大的安慰。

　　malicious [m?'li??s] adj. 恶毒的；恶意的；蓄意的；怀恨的

　　例 This is a malicious calumny.

　　这完全是恶意中伤。

　　ingenious [in'd?i:nj?s] adj. 心灵手巧的；有独创性的；机灵的；精制的

　　例 This book shows that he is an ingenious author.

　　这本书表明他是一个有创造力的作家。

　　S小试身手

　　很显然，看报纸就知道：这两位绅士自知爱护名声的时代已经过去。

　　译____________________________________________

　　我已身陷其中，必须继续战斗。

　　译____________________________________________

　　我放弃了，我降旗宣布投降。

　　译____________________________________________

　　P短语家族

　　Mr. Twain owes it to himself, as well as to the great people whose suffrages he asks, to clear this matter up.

　　clear up：放晴；清理；打扫；整理

　　造____________________________________________

　　Look upon the Infamous Perjurer!

　　look upon：看待；把……看作

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