英文
15
When the newly formed Republican party met in Chicago in the spring of 1860 to nominate a Presidential candidate, few people dreamed that Abraham Lincoln had a chance. A short time before that, he himself had written to a newspaper editor: “I must in all candor say I do not think myself fit for the presidency.”
It was generally accepted in 1860 that the nomination honors were going to the handsome William H. Seward of New York. There could hardly be any question about that, for straw ballots were taken on the trains carrying the delegates to Chicago, and they gave Seward twice as many votes as all the other candidates combined. On many of the trains there was not a single ballot cast for Abraham Lincoln. It is possible that some of the delegates did not even know that such a man existed.
The convention met on Seward's fifty-ninth birthday. How fitting! He was positive that he would receive the nomination as a birthday present. He was so confident of it that he said good-by to his colleagues in the United States Senate and invited his intimate friends to attend a great feast of celebration at his home in Auburn, New York; and a cannon was rented, hauled into his front yard, loaded, and cocked up in the air, ready to boom the joyous news to the town.
If the convention had started balloting on Thursday night, that cannon would have been fired, and the story of a nation would have been changed; but the voting could not begin until the printer delivered the papers necessary for keeping the tally. And the printer, on his way to the convention, probably stopped for a glass of beer. At any rate, he was late, and consequently there was nothing for the convention to do that Thursday evening but sit and wait for him.
Mosquitoes were bad in the hall, the place was hot and stuffy, and the delegates hungry and thirsty; so some one stood up and moved that the convention adjourn until ten o'clock the next morning. A motion to adjourn is always in order; it takes precedence over all other motions and it is nearly always popular. This one carried with a rush of enthusiasm.
Seventeen hours elapsed before the convention assembled again. That is not a long time, but it was long enough for Seward's career to be wrecked, and Lincoln's made.
The person largely responsible for the wrecking was Horace Greeley, a grotesque-looking man with a head as round as a cantaloupe; with thin, silky hair as light as an albino's; and with a string necktie that usually worked itself out of place until the bow was approximately under his left ear.
Greeley was not even advocating the nomination of Lincoln, but he was determined with all the bitterness of his soul to even up an old score with William H. Seward and Seward's manager, Thurlow Weed.
The trouble was this: For fourteen years, Greeley had fought side by side with these men; he had helped make Seward Governor of New York and then United States Senator; and he had aided Weed tremendously in his battle to become and remain political boss of the State.
And what had Greeley gotten out of all this struggle and combat? Very little but neglect. He had wanted to be made State printer, and Weed had taken that place for himself. He had longed to be appointed postmaster of New York City, and Weed did not offer to recommend him. He had aspired to be governor, or even lieutenant-governor, and Weed not only said “no,” but said it in a way that hurt and rankled.
Finally, when he could stand no more, Greeley sat down and wrote a long, stinging letter to Seward. It would fill seven pages of this book, and every paragraph of it was seared with bitterness.
That fiery message had been written on Saturday night, November 11, 1854.... And this was 1860. Greeley had waited six long years for an opportunity to get his revenge, but at last it had arrived, and he made the most of it. He didn't go to bed at all, that fateful Thursday night while the Republican nominating convention was having a recess in Chicago; but from sundown until long after dawn, he hurried from delegation to delegation, reasoning, arguing, pleading. His paper, the “New York Tribune,” was read all over the North; and it influenced public opinion as no other paper had ever done. He was a famous man, voices were hushed whenever he appeared, and the delegates listened to him with respect.
He hurled all kinds of arguments against Seward. He pointed out that Seward had repeatedly denounced the Masonic order; that in 1830 he had been elected to the State Senate on the anti-Mason ticket, and, as a consequence had aroused bitter, widespread, and undying resentment.
Later, when he was Governor of New York, Seward had favored the destruction of the common-school fund and the establishment of separate schools for foreigners and Catholics, and thus had stirred up another hornet's nest of fiery hatred.
Greeley pointed out that the men who had made up the once powerful Know Nothing party were violently opposed to Seward and would vote for a hound dog in preference to him.
And that wasn't all. Greeley pointed out that this “arch agitator” had been too radical, that his “bloody program” and talk of a higher law than the Constitution had frightened the border States, and that they would turn against him.
“I will bring you the men who are candidates for governor in these States,” Greeley promised, “and they will confirm what I say.”
He did, and the excitement was intense.
With clenched fists and blazing eyes, the gubernatorial candidates in Pennsylvania and Indiana declared that Seward's nomination meant inevitable defeat in their States, inevitable disaster.
And the Republicans felt that, to win, they must carry those States.
So, suddenly, the flood-tide that had been running toward Seward began to recede. And Lincoln's friends rushed about from delegation to delegation, trying to persuade those who were opposed to Seward to concentrate on Lincoln. Douglas was sure to be nominated by the Democrats, they said, and no man in the country was better equipped to fight Douglas than Lincoln. To him, it was an old job; he was used to it. Besides, Lincoln was born a Kentuckian, and he could win votes in the doubtful border States. Furthermore, he was the kind of candidate the Northwest wanted—a man who had fought his way up from splitting rails and breaking sod, a man who understood the common people.
When arguments like these didn't succeed, they used others. They won Indiana's delegates by promising Caleb B. Smith a place in the Cabinet, and they won Pennsylvania's fifty-six votes with the assurance that Simeon Cameron would sit at Lincoln's right hand.
On Friday morning the balloting began. Forty thousand people had poured into Chicago, eager for excitement. Ten thousand wedged into the convention hall, and thirty thousand packed the streets outside. The seething mob reached for blocks.
Seward led on the first ballot. On the second, Pennsylvania cast her fifty-two votes for Lincoln, and the break began. On the third, it was all but a stampede.
Inside the hall, ten thousand people, half crazed with excitement, leaped upon the seats, shouting, yelling, smashing their hats on one another's heads. A cannon boomed on the roof—and thirty thousand people in the streets raised a shout.
Men hugged one another and danced about wildly, weeping and laughing and shrieking.
One hundred guns at the Tremont House belched and barked their volleys of fire; a thousand bells joined in the clamor; while whistles on railway engines, on steamboats, on factories, were opened and tied open for the day.
For twenty-four hours the excitement raged.
“No such uproar,” declared the “Chicago Tribune,” “has been heard on earth since the walls of Jericho fell down.” In the midst of all this rejoicing, Horace Greeley saw Thurlow Weed, the erstwhile “maker of Presidents,” shedding bitter tears. At last, Greeley had his sweet revenge.
In the meantime what was happening down in Springfield? Lincoln had gone to his law office as usual that morning and tried to work on a case. Too restless to concentrate, he soon tossed the legal papers aside and went out and pitched ball for a while back of a store, then played a game or two of billiards, and finally went to the “Springfield Journal” to hear the news. The telegraph office occupied the room above. He was sitting in a big arm-chair, discussing the second ballot, when suddenly the operator burst down the stairway, crying: “Mr. Lincoln, you are nominated! You are nominated!”
Lincoln's lower lip trembled slightly, his face flushed. For a few seconds he stopped breathing.
It was the most dramatic moment of his life.
After nineteen years of desolating defeats, he had been suddenly whirled to the dizzy heights of victory.
Men rushed up and down the streets shouting the news. The mayor ordered the firing of a hundred guns.
Scores of old friends flocked about Lincoln, half laughing, half crying, shaking his hands, tossing their hats into the air, yelling in mad excitement.
“Excuse me, boys,” he pleaded; “there is a little woman down on Eighth Street who will want to hear this.”
And away he dashed, his coat-tails sailing behind him.
The streets of Springfield were rosy all that night with the light of bonfires fed by tar-barrels and rail fences, and the saloons never closed their doors.
It wasn't long before half of the nation was singing:
Old Abe Lincoln came out of the wilderness,
Out of the wilderness, out of the wilderness;
Old Abe Lincoln came out of the wilderness,
Down in Illinois.
中文
15
一八六〇年春，新组建的共和党在芝加哥召开会议，提名总统候选人。当时，几乎没有人能想到亚伯拉罕·林肯还能有机会参加竞选。因为就在不久前，他在给一位报社编辑的信中说道：“老实说，我觉得自己根本不适合当总统。”
当时，大家普遍认为最有可能获得提名的是英俊的纽约州人威廉·苏华德（William H. Seward）。对于这一点，几乎没有人有异议。代表们在前往芝加哥的火车上举行了一次意向投票，结果苏华德的票数是其他候选人票数总和的两倍。在许多车厢里，林肯一票也没有。很多代表大概根本不知道有林肯这个人。
大会召开那天正好是苏华德五十九岁生日，多巧啊！苏华德对自己获得提名很有把握，并打算将此作为自己的生日贺礼。他非常自信，甚至提前和参议院的同事们告别，并邀请密友们前往纽约州的老家奥本参加盛大的庆功宴。他还租了一门加农礼炮，放在家中前院，填上炮弹，炮口朝天，随时准备将当选的喜讯告诉全镇的人。
如果大会如期在周四晚上举行投票，那么这门礼炮一定能物尽其用，而美国历史也会就此改变。但是投票议程却未能顺利进行，因为缺少计票用的纸张。而那位送纸的印刷员，大概是在去大会的路上喝了点酒，总之是迟到了。因此周四晚上，大会上的所有代表只能坐着干等，什么也不能做。
当晚蚊子猖獗，会议室中十分闷热，代表们又饿又渴。于是有人站出来鼓动大家将会议延期至第二天上午十点。要求延期总是合乎程序的，总是优先于其他请求的，也总是受欢迎的。这一次的延期要求，引起了一阵欢呼。
会议推迟了十七个小时。这段时间不算长，但足以打碎苏华德的美梦，将林肯推上总统的宝座。
让苏华德美梦破碎的幕后推手是霍勒斯·格里利（Horace Greeley）。他长相怪异，脑袋圆得像个甜瓜，头发稀疏，如丝绸般光亮，但又白得像白化病人一样。他系着蝶形领结，可领结总是移位，一不小心便移到了左耳下方。
格里利实际上并不拥护林肯，但他心中对威廉·苏华德和苏华德的经理人瑟洛·威德（Thurlow Weed）充满了怨恨，并下定决心报仇雪恨。
他们之间的积怨是这样的：他曾与苏华德和威德并肩作战十四年，他帮助苏华德成了纽约州州长和国会参议员，而威德能成为美国政界大佬并守住地位，也多亏了他提供的巨大帮助。
而格里利又从这些奋斗和战争中得到了什么呢？除了不被重视，几乎没有其他收获。他曾想做州印刷官，威德却自己坐上了那个位子。他想做纽约市的邮政局长，威德却没有推荐他。他渴望成为州长，或者副州长，可是威德不仅拒绝了他，还深深地伤害了他，让他的心中满是怨怼。
终于，格里利忍无可忍，给苏华德写了一封长信。这封信足以占据这本书七页的篇幅，它的每一段都充满了跃然纸上的苦涩与痛苦。
那封信是一八五四年十一月十一日周六晚上写的，现在是一八六〇年，那复仇的机会，格里利已经等待了六年。终于，机会来了，而他也充分地利用了这次机会。在那个关键的周四晚上，在共和党提名大会休会期间，格里利彻夜未眠。从傍晚至凌晨，他奔波在各个代表团之间，晓之以理动之以情地游说着代表们。他主编的报纸《纽约论坛报》遍布整个北方，对舆论导向有绝对的影响力。他本身就是一个名人，不管走到哪里，人们都能安静地听他说话，因此代表们也充满尊重地听取了他的意见。
他列举了各种苏华德不会成为美国总统的论据。他指出苏华德曾不断地攻击共济会，并表示苏华德之所以能在一八三〇年当选参议员，靠的就是反对共济会人士的支持，而苏华德本人也因此招来了持久而广泛的怨恨。
后来，在担任纽约州州长期间，苏华德又同意废除公立学校基金，同时还主张为外国人和天主教徒另设学校。这一举动无异于捅了马蜂窝，一时间又惹了一身腥。
格里利还指出，曾经强大的无知党(4)的元老们强烈反对苏华德，宁愿投票给色鬼也不愿投给他。
格里利的说辞远不止这些。他表示，苏华德是一个非常激进的“别有用心的煽动者”，周围的州都害怕他提出的“血腥计划”和制定高于宪法的法律的言论，因此也绝不会支持他做总统。
“我可以把那些州的州长竞选人带来，”格里利承诺道，“他们可以证明我所言非虚。”
格里利说到做到，而那些州长候选人的情绪也非常激动。
宾夕法尼亚州和印第安纳州的州长候选人握紧了拳头，双目喷火地宣布如果苏华德参加总统大选，他们州绝对不会支持，苏华德在他们州注定惨败。
而共和党认为，若想赢得总统大选，必须拿下这些州。
于是突然间，支持苏华德的声潮平息了下来。与此同时，林肯的朋友们也奔走在各个代表团之间，试图说服那些反对苏华德的代表支持林肯。他们是这样说的：民主党肯定是道格拉斯当选，而在这个世界上，除了林肯，大概没人有能耐与道格拉斯一战了。对于林肯来说，对战道格拉斯不是什么新鲜事，他早就顺手了。另外，林肯出生于肯塔基州，因此他定能拿下那些摇摆不定的边界州。除此之外，林肯是那种符合西部胃口的候选人——一个从劈木条、垦荒地一路爬上来的候选人，一位懂得民间疾苦的候选人。
当这些说辞并不奏效的时候，林肯的团队改变了策略。他们以承诺迦勒·史密斯（Caleb B. Smith）进入内阁为条件，拿下了印第安纳代表团。他们向宾夕法尼亚代表团承诺让西米恩·卡梅隆（Simeon Cameron）成为林肯最得力的助手，从而赢得了其五十六张支持票。
周五早晨，投票开始了。四万位代表怀着激动的心情涌入了芝加哥。一万人进入了会议大厅，另外三万人挤满了大厅外面的角落。
在第一轮投票中，苏华德暂时领先。但在第二轮投票中，宾夕法尼亚州将其五十二张选票投给了林肯，打破了原先的僵局。到第三轮投票时，林肯已势如破竹。
会议大厅内那一万人十分疯狂，他们跳上椅子，大声地叫嚷着，扯下帽子就往旁边人身上扔。屋顶传来了加农礼炮的轰鸣声——街上的三万人齐声欢呼起来。
人们互相拥抱，高兴得手舞足蹈。他们欢笑着、尖叫着，眼中涌动着激动的泪水。
特里蒙特饭店响起了一百声枪鸣以示庆贺,喜庆的钟声不绝于耳。火车、轮船和工厂也开始鸣笛庆祝这一不同寻常的日子。
这场狂欢整整持续了二十四个小时。
对此，《芝加哥论坛报》是这样写的：“自耶利哥之墙坍塌后，世上便再也没有过这般喧嚣了。”在一片喜庆中，霍勒斯·格里利看到了往昔的“总统制造家”瑟洛·威德流下了苦涩的泪水。终于，格里利复仇成功了。
与此同时，春田市又是怎样的情形呢？那天早上，林肯像往常一样去了办公室，打算研究一个案子。可是他十分焦躁，根本无法集中注意力。没过多久，他便收起了手头的法律文件离开了办公室。他在一家店铺后面投了会儿球，接着又玩了几把台球，最后去看《春田市日报》，等候竞选的消息。电报办公室在楼上。林肯坐在楼下一张大扶手椅中，与人讨论着第二轮投票的情况。突然间，电报操作员冲下了楼梯，大声喊道：“林肯先生！你被提名了！你被提名了！”
林肯的下嘴唇微微颤抖着，脸色因激动而泛着红光。有那么几秒钟，他甚至忘记了呼吸。
这是他一生中最激动人心的瞬间。
在凄凉的失败里挣扎了十九年后，林肯突然间冲上云霄，来到了令人眼花缭乱的胜利的顶端。
激动的人群在街上横冲直撞，叫嚷着这一天大的新闻。市长下令鸣枪一百下以示庆贺。
林肯的旧友们蜂拥至他的身边，又哭又笑，握着他的手，将帽子抛入空中，极度兴奋地喊叫着。
“抱歉了，伙计们，”林肯恳切地说道，“第八大街上还有一个小女人等着听这个消息呢。”
林肯疾奔而去，衣服的后摆在身后飘荡。
那一晚属于狂欢的人群——焦油桶和木围栏燃烧而发出的火光将春田市的大街小巷染上了一层玫红色，各家的酒馆也彻夜未歇。
没过多久，半个美国都在唱这首歌：
老亚伯·林肯从荒野中来，
从荒野中来，从荒野中来，
老亚伯·林肯从荒野中来，
来到了伊利诺伊州。
