英文
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.”
中文
29
载着林肯遗体的送葬列车穿过一波又一波哀悼的人群，缓缓地向伊利诺伊州驶去。列车上盖着一层厚厚的绉纱，列车引擎则像驮棺木的马儿一样披上了一条点缀着银色星星的黑色毯子。
当列车一路向北驶去的时候，铁路旁出现了越来越多充满了悲伤的脸庞。
列车离费城车站还有数英里的时候，铁路两旁的人便站成了一堵堵厚厚的人墙。当列车入城的时候，成千上万的民众涌上街头，将马路挤得水泄不通。独立大厅的哀悼者们排成的长队绵延了三英里。他们缓缓地一寸一寸地向前移动，坚持了数十小时，只为最后再瞻仰一眼林肯的面容。到了周六午夜，公共场所的门都要关闭，但是哀悼的人群不愿散去，在原地站了一晚。到周日凌晨三点的时候，等候的人群前所未有的庞大，男孩们以十美金的价格向外出售他们所在的位置。
数百位妇女晕倒了，许多参加过葛底斯堡战役的老兵在努力维持秩序时也晕倒了，士兵和骑着马的警察们尽力疏通着道路。按照计划，葬礼将在纽约举行。
在葬礼开始前二十四个小时，游览列车便日夜不停地将一波又一波的民众运送了过来。纽约从来没有过这么大的客流量——人们先占据了所有的旅馆，接着是民宿，最后是公园和蒸汽船码头。
第二天，十六名黑人骑着十六匹白色的骏马，拉着灵柩沿着百老汇大街缓缓而行。女人们陷入了疯狂的悲伤之中，纷纷将手中的鲜花扔到灵车前方的道路上。灵车后面传来沉重的脚步声——十六万哀悼者列队跟随着灵车前行。他们手中摇曳着旗帜，旗帜上写着：“啊！多么可惜啊！埃古——多么可惜啊！”(1)……“你们要休息，要知道我是神。”(2)
五十万观众争先恐后地相互推搡，只为看一看那长长的送葬队伍。百老汇大街两旁对着街面的二楼靠窗处，每个位子要四十美金的租金。为了容纳更多人，那些窗户的玻璃都被拆掉了。
身着白袍的唱诗班站在街角唱着赞美诗；军乐队奏着悲伤的哀歌；每隔六十秒，城市上空便会响起一百门加农炮的轰隆声。
林肯的灵柩放在纽约市政厅，哭泣的人群围绕在他周围，有的和他说话，有的试图触摸他的脸庞。一位妇女趁警卫不注意的时候弯下腰亲吻了林肯的遗体。
周二中午，林肯的棺木合上了。成千上万个没能瞻仰林肯遗容的人立刻向西朝着送葬列车预计停留的几个城市涌去。在去往春田市的路上，送葬列车无时无刻不被肃穆的钟声和轰鸣的礼炮声包围。白天，送葬列车在常青藤和鲜花扎成的拱门下穿梭，在孩子们挥舞着旗帜的山坡旁疾驰。晚上，为送葬列车照明的火把和篝火照亮了几乎半个北美大陆。
整个国家陷入了疯狂。历史上还从未有过如此盛大的葬礼。到处都有脆弱的民众因为过度伤心而倒下。纽约的一位年轻人哭喊着“我要去陪亚伯拉罕·林肯”，随后便用剃刀抹了脖子。
暗杀发生四十八小时后，春田市的一个委员会匆忙赶到了华盛顿，恳请林肯夫人同意将她的丈夫安葬在家乡。一开始，林肯夫人是坚决不同意的。她在春田市几乎没有朋友。她自己也很清楚这一点。确实，她在春田市有三个姐妹，但她十分讨厌其中两个，对剩下的那个又充满了鄙视。在林肯夫人心里，她根本就看不起那个流传着闲言碎语的小镇。
“上帝啊，伊丽莎白！”她对自己的黑人裁缝说，“我绝不再回春田市。”
于是她计划将林肯安葬在芝加哥，或者安葬在国会大厦原本为乔治·华盛顿建造的坟墓中。
然而，委员会恳求了林肯夫人七天，最终让她同意将林肯的遗体带回春田市。春田市设立了一个公共基金会，买下了一片包含了四个城市街区的美丽土地——这块地现在已成为了州议会大厦——并派人日夜不停地赶工建造墓园。
最终，送葬列车在五月四日的时候缓缓驶入春田市。墓园已完工，数千名林肯的旧识相聚一堂，准备参加林肯的葬礼。可是性情古怪的林肯夫人却突然取消了所有计划，不准林肯下葬在刚建好的墓地，并傲慢地下令将林肯的遗体葬入两英里外的橡树岭公墓。
没有商量余地，林肯夫人发狠说，如果不按照她的要求做，她就要用“暴力”方式将林肯的遗体带回华盛顿。林肯夫人为什么要这么做呢？原因十分令人厌恶：建在春田市中心的墓园所在的土地被称为“马瑟街”，而林肯夫人看不起马瑟家族。数年前，马瑟家族的人不知怎的惹怒了林肯夫人，于是现在，即便在肃静的死亡面前，她仍旧对旧时的仇怨耿耿于怀，甚至不愿林肯的遗体在被马瑟家族污染过的土地上待哪怕是一夜。
这个女人与她那“对任何人都毫无恶意”、“对所有人都心怀怜悯”的丈夫在同一屋檐下共同生活了二十五年，但就像法国的波旁王朝的国王一样，她什么也没学会，只记住了所有的仇恨。
春田市不得不向这位遗孀屈服，于是十一点的时候，林肯的遗体被移了出来，放在了橡树岭公墓的公共纳骨堂。“斗士乔·胡克”骑马走在棺木前面，“老公鹿”跟在棺木后面，身上披着一条红白蓝相间的毯子，毯子上绣着“老亚伯的爱驹”。
待“老公鹿”回到马厩时，它身上的毯子连碎片都不见了。争夺纪念品的人们早已将它洗劫一空。他们像秃鹰一样朝着棺木扑去，争夺、撕抢着覆盖在棺木上的殓布，直到端着刺刀的士兵向他们冲去才罢手。
林肯遭遇暗杀后，林肯夫人日夜哭泣，整整五个星期躺在白宫的房间里不出门。
那段时间，伊丽莎白·凯克利一直陪伴在林肯夫人身边。她写道：
我永远也忘不了那个场景：伤心欲绝的恸哭声，可怕的尖叫声，恐怖的抽搐，还有来自灵魂深处悲痛的宣泄。我用冷水为林肯夫人洗头，尽我所能地抚慰她悲伤的心灵。
对于父亲的去世，泰德的伤心并不比他母亲少。但林肯夫人可怕的情绪把孩子吓得一言不发……
晚上的时候，泰德听到母亲的哭泣声后便会起床，穿着他的白色睡衣来到她的床边安慰她：“妈妈，别哭了。你哭得我睡不着。爸爸是个好人，他去了天堂。他在那里很快乐。他和上帝以及威利哥哥在一起。妈妈，别哭了，否则我也要哭了。”
