Harriet Beecher Stowe1 to the Abolitionist Eliza Cabot Follen2斯托夫人給廢奴主義者福倫的信

哈麗雅特·比徹·斯托

Andover

February 16， 1853

My dear Madam，

I hasten to reply to your letter， to me， the more interesting that I have long been acquainted with you， and during all the nursery part of my life， made daily use of your little poems for children. I used to think sometimes in those days， that I would write to you and tell you how much I was obliged to you for the pleasure which they gave us all.

I am a little bit of a woman， somewhat more than 40， about as thin and dry as a pinch of snuff， never very much to look at in my best days， and looking like a used-up article now. I was married when I was 25 years old to a man rich in Greek and Hebrew， Latin and Arabic， and alas！ rich in nothing else…

But then I was abundantly enriched with wealth of another kind. I had 2 little curly-headed twin daughters to begin with， and my stock in this line has gradually increased till I have been the mother of 7 children， the most beautiful of whom， and the most loved， lies buried near my Cincinnati residence. It was at his dying bed， and at his grave， that I learnt what a poor slave mother may feel when her child is torn away from her. In the depths of sorrow， which seemed to me immeasurable3， it was my only prayer to God that such anguish might not be suffered in vain！ …

I allude to this now， because I have often felt that much that is in this book had its root in the awful scenes and bitter sorrows of that summer. It has left now， I trust， no trace in my mind， except a deep compassion for the sorrowful， especially for mothers who are separated from their children…

During these long years of struggling with poverty and sickness， and a hot debilitating climate， my children grew up around me. The nursery and the kitchen were my principal fields of labour.

Some of my friends pitying my toils， copied and sent some of my little sketches to certain liberally paying annuals， with my name. With the first money that I earned in this way， I bought a feather bed！ For as I had married into poverty and without a dowry， and as my husband had only a large library of books， and a great deal of learning， this bed and pillows were thought on the whole， the most profitable investment. After this， I thought I had discovered the philosopher’s stone， and when a new carpet， or a mattress was going to be needed， or when at the close of the year， it began to be evident that my family accounts， like poor Dora’s， “wouldn’t add up”， then I used to say to my faithful friend and factotum4 Anna， who shared all my joys and sorrows， “Now if you’ll keep the babies， and attend to all the things in the house for one day， I’ll write a piece， and then we shall be out of the scrape”， and so I became an authoress.

I lived 2 miles from the city of Cincinnati， in the country， and domestic service you know， not always to be found in the city， is next to an impossibility to be obtained in the country， even by those who are willing to give the highest wages， so what was to be expected for poor me who had very little of this world’s goods to offer？…You may imagine， therefore how glad I was when our Seminary property being divided into small lots which were rented out at a low price， a number of poor families settled in our vicinity， from whom we could occasionally obtain domestic services. About a dozen families of liberated slaves were among the number， and they became my favorite resorts in cases of emergency.

If anybody wants to have a black face look handsome， let them be left as I have been， in feeble health， in oppressive， hot weather， with a sick baby in arms， and two or three other little ones in the nursery， and not a servant in the whole house to do a single turn. And then if they should see my good old Aunt Frankie， coming in， with her honest， bluff， black face， her long， strong arms， her chest as big and stout as a barrel， and her hilarious hearty laugh， perfectly delighted to take one’s washing， and do it at a fair price， they would appreciate the beauty of black people.

My cook， poor Eliza Buck was a regular epitome of slave life in herself， fat， gentle， easy， loving and lovable， always calling my very modest house and door yard “The Place，” as if it had been a plantation with 700 hands on it.

She had lived through the whole sad story of a Virginia raised slave’s life. In her youth she must have been a very handsome mulatto girl. Her voice was sweet， and her manners refined and agreeable. She was raised in a good family as nurse and sempstress. When the family became embarrassed， she was suddenly sold on to a plantation in Louisiana. She has often told me how， without any warning， she was suddenly forced into a carriage， and saw her little mistress screaming and stretching her arms from the window towards her as she was driven away. She has told me of scenes on the Louisiana plantations and how she has often been out in the night by stealth， ministering5 to poor slaves， who had been mangled and lacerated by the whip.

I have very much at heart， a design to erect in some of the Northern States a normal school， for the education of coloured teachers in the United States and Canada. I have very much wished that some permanent memorial of good to the coloured race might be created out of the proceeds of a work which promises to have so unprecedented a sale. My own share of the profits will be less than that of the publishers either English or American， but I am willing to give largely for this purpose， and I feel no doubt that the American and English publishers， will be willing to unite with me， for nothing tends more immediately to the emancipation of the slave， than the education and elevation of the free.

I am now writing a work which will contain perhaps an equal amount of matter with Uncle Tom’s Cabin.6 It will contain all the facts and documents， on which that story was founded， and an immense body of facts， reports of trials， legal decisions and testimony of people living in the South， which will more than confirm every statement in it and show how much more fact than fiction it is.

I suffer excessively in writing these things. It may truly be said I write with heart’s blood. This horror， this night mare， abomination！ Can it be in my country！ It lies like lead on my heart， it shadows my life with sorrow; the more so that I feel， as for my own brothers， for the South， and I am pained by every horror that I am obliged to write， as one who is forced by an awful oath to disclose in a court some family disgrace！ Many times I have thought I must die， and yet， I pray God that I may live to see something done...

Yours Affectly

H. B. STOWE

安多弗

1853年2月16日

親愛的夫人：

我急切地給您回信。對(duì)我來說有意思的是，我結(jié)識(shí)您很久了，在照顧幼兒的日子里，我每天都給孩子們念您的詩。那時(shí)我常常想，有一天要給您寫信，告訴您那些兒歌給我們帶來了多少樂趣，我對(duì)您是多么感激。

我是個(gè)40出頭的小個(gè)子女人，干干瘦瘦，弱不禁風(fēng)，在最好的年華也不曾出眾，如今看上去更是憔悴。25歲時(shí)，我嫁給了一個(gè)除通曉希臘語、希伯來語、拉丁語和阿拉伯語知識(shí)以外一無所有的男士……

但是我在另一方面非常富有。起初我有了兩個(gè)卷發(fā)雙胞胎小女兒，后來這個(gè)寶庫逐漸增加，直到我成為七個(gè)寶寶的媽媽。其中最漂亮、最受寵愛的一個(gè)，埋葬在辛辛那提的住所附近。在他的病床和墳?zāi)古?，我體驗(yàn)到可憐的奴隸母親被奪走孩子時(shí)的心情。在無以言表的悲痛中，我唯有向上帝祈禱，不要讓我白白受苦！

我現(xiàn)在提起這件事，是因?yàn)槲页３ＳX得，這本書在很大程度上源于那個(gè)夏天慘痛的場(chǎng)景和苦澀的傷痛?，F(xiàn)在，我相信這件事在我的心里已經(jīng)沒有痕跡，只剩下對(duì)悲傷者，尤其是對(duì)被迫與孩子分離的母親深深的同情。

在貧病和折磨人的炎熱氣候中掙扎的漫長歲月里，圍繞著我的孩子們長大了，那時(shí)我的主要工作就是育兒和烹飪。

有些朋友同情我的辛苦勞作，將我的一些小文章復(fù)印，署上我的名字發(fā)給了一些年刊，稿費(fèi)很優(yōu)厚。這樣掙來的第一筆錢，我買了一床羽毛褥墊。因?yàn)榻Y(jié)婚時(shí)很窮，我沒有嫁妝，丈夫只有一個(gè)大圖書室和滿腹學(xué)識(shí)，總的來說，我認(rèn)為這床褥墊和枕頭投資得最值。這之后，我好像發(fā)現(xiàn)了點(diǎn)金石。每當(dāng)我們需要一張新地毯或床墊，或者年關(guān)將近時(shí)，像可憐的朵拉一樣，明擺著“要入不敷出了”，我就會(huì)求助于同甘共苦的忠實(shí)朋友和勤雜工安娜，“如果你能抽出一天時(shí)間幫我照顧孩子、料理家務(wù)，我會(huì)寫出一篇小文，我們就會(huì)擺脫困境”，就這樣，我成了一名女作家。

我住在距離辛辛那提兩英里的鄉(xiāng)下，你知道，家政服務(wù)在城市都不易找到，在鄉(xiāng)村更是稀缺，即使對(duì)那些愿意出最高工資的人都是如此，更不用說對(duì)一窮二白的我們……你可以想象，當(dāng)附近的神學(xué)院地產(chǎn)被分割成小塊、以低價(jià)出租給貧苦家庭，而他們偶爾可以為我提供家政服務(wù)時(shí)，我是多么高興。其中有大約12個(gè)解放的奴隸家庭，他們成為緊急情況下我最愛求助的對(duì)象。

如果有人想讓一張黑色面孔看上去美麗動(dòng)人，就讓他們淪落至我這樣的境遇：身體虛弱，天氣悶熱，懷中抱著一個(gè)生病的娃娃，還有兩三個(gè)在襁褓中，整個(gè)家中沒有一個(gè)用人可以搭一把手。這時(shí)，如果弗蘭基大媽出現(xiàn)，面龐黝黑，一臉誠懇直率，長長的胳膊強(qiáng)壯有力，胸膛如桶般寬廣結(jié)實(shí)，時(shí)不時(shí)開懷大笑，非常愉快地以相當(dāng)公允的價(jià)格為我清洗衣物，他們就會(huì)欣賞黑人的美。

我的廚娘，可憐的伊麗莎·巴克是典型的黑人生活縮影。她胖胖的，溫柔隨和，慈愛又惹人愛，總是稱我那簡陋的房間和院子“這地方”，好像是有700人手的大農(nóng)場(chǎng)。

她以前過的是在弗吉尼亞長大的奴隸典型的悲慘生活。年輕時(shí)，她肯定是個(gè)很漂亮的混血兒。她嗓音甜美，舉止優(yōu)雅怡人，在一個(gè)不錯(cuò)的家庭長大，是那家的護(hù)士和裁縫。當(dāng)那家陷入窘境，她突然被賣到路易斯安那州的一個(gè)種植園。她經(jīng)常跟我說起，沒有任何預(yù)兆，她被強(qiáng)塞進(jìn)馬車，駛離時(shí)看見她的小女主人尖叫著從窗口向她伸出胳膊。她曾經(jīng)告訴我路易斯安那種植園的場(chǎng)景，她常常在夜里偷偷溜出去，照顧受盡鞭打摧殘的貧苦奴隸。

我很想在北方某州建一個(gè)師范學(xué)校，為美國和加拿大的黑人教師提供培訓(xùn)。這本書空前暢銷，我非常希望用稿費(fèi)做一些能給黑人帶來永久福祉的事。雖然我自己的收益比英美的出版商都少，但是我愿意為此目的多出錢。我也相信，英美的出版商們會(huì)樂意與我合作，因?yàn)闆]有什么能比自由人的教育和提升更有利于奴隸的解放。

我正在寫一部篇幅可能和《湯姆叔叔的小屋》差不多的東西。這本書包含創(chuàng)作《湯姆叔叔的小屋》時(shí)基于的所有事實(shí)和文件，還有大量有關(guān)南方人民的事實(shí)、審判書、法律決議和他們的證詞，這些都充分證明小說中所寫的一切都基于事實(shí)而非虛構(gòu)。

寫這些東西讓我備受折磨，說實(shí)話，寫這本書時(shí)我的心在滴血。這恐怖的、令人發(fā)指的噩夢(mèng)！這種事怎能發(fā)生在我的國度！它像鉛塊一樣壓在我心頭，使我的生活籠罩在悲傷的陰影里。我對(duì)南方人民的感情就像對(duì)自己的兄弟一樣，為自己被迫寫下的一切而痛心，就像在法庭上被可怕的誓言所迫自揭家丑。許多次，我覺得自己要死了。然而，我祈求上帝，保佑我活到改變到來的那一天！

H.B.斯托