LESSON 135

MARION

马里恩

William Gilmore Simms, 1806-1870, one of the most versatile, prolific, and popular of American authors, was born at Charleston, South Carolina. His family was poor, and his means of education were limited, yet he managed to prepare himself for the bar, to which he was admitted when twenty-one years of age. The law proving uncongenial, he abandoned it, and in 1828 became editor of the “Charleston City Gazette.” From this time till his death his literary activity was unceasing, and his writings were so numerous that it is possible only to group them under their various heads. They comprise Biography; History; Historical Romance, both Foreign and Domestic, the latter being further divided into Colonial, Revolutionary, and Border Romances; Pure Romance; The Drama; Poetry; and Criticism; besides miscellaneous books and pamphlets.

In the midst of this remarkable literary activity, Mr. Simms still found time to devote to the affairs of state, being for several years a member of the South Carolina Legislature. He was also a lecturer, and was connected editorially with several magazines. Most of his time was spent at his summer house in Charleston, and at his winter residence, “Woodlands,” on a plantation at Midway, S. C.

The following selection is from “The Life and Times of Francis Marion.”

Art had done little to increase the comforts or the securities of his fortress. It was one, complete to his hands, from those of nature—such an one as must have delighted the generous English outlaw of Sherwood Forest; insulated by deep ravines and rivers, a dense forest of mighty trees, and interminable undergrowth. The vine and brier guarded his passes. The laurel and the shrub, the vine and sweet-scented jessamine roofed his dwelling, and clambered up between his closed eyelids and the stars. Obstructions scarcely penetrable by any foe, crowded the pathways to his tent; and no footstep not practiced in the secret, and to “the manner born,” might pass unchallenged to his midnight rest. The swamp was his moat; his bulwarks were the deep ravines, which, watched by sleepless rifles, were quite as impregnable as the castles on the Rhine. Here, in the possession of his fortress, the partisan slept secure.

His movements were marked by equal promptitude and wariness. He suffered no risks from a neglect of proper precaution. His habits of circumspection and resolve ran together in happy unison. His plans, carefully considered beforehand, were always timed with the happiest reference to the condition and feelings of his men. To prepare that condition, and to train those feelings, were the chief employment of his repose. He knew his game, and how it should be played, before a step was taken or a weapon drawn.

When he himself or any of his parties left the island upon an expedition, they advanced along no beaten paths. They made them as they went. He had the Indian faculty in perfection, of gathering his course from the sun, from the stars, from the bark and the tops of trees, and such other natural guides as the woodman acquires only through long and watchful experience.

Many of the trails thus opened by him, upon these expeditions, are now the ordinary avenues of the country. On starting, he almost invariably struck into the woods, and seeking the heads of the larger water courses, crossed them at their first and small beginnings. He destroyed the bridges where he could. He preferred fords. The former not only facilitated the progress of less fearless enemies, but apprised them of his own approach. If speed was essential, a more direct but not less cautious route was pursued.

He intrusted his schemes to nobody, not even his most confidential officers. He consulted with them respectfully, heard them patiently, weighed their suggestions, and silently approached his conclusions. They knew his determinations only from his actions. He left no track behind him, if it were possible to avoid it. He was often vainly hunted after by his own detachments. He was more apt at finding them than they him. His scouts were taught a peculiar and shrill whistle, which, at night, could be heard at a most astonishing distance. We are reminded of a signal of Roderick Dhu:—

“He whistled shrill,

And he was answered from the hill;

Wild as the scream of the curlew,

From crag to crag the signal flew.”

His expeditions were frequently long, and his men, hurrying forth without due preparation, not unfrequently suffered much privation from want of food. To guard against this danger, it was their habit to watch his cook. If they saw him unusually busied in preparing supplies of the rude, portable food which it was Marion’s custom to carry on such occasions, they knew what was before them, and provided themselves accordingly. In no other way could they arrive at their general’s intentions. His favorite time for moving was with the setting sun, and then it was known that the march would continue all night.

His men were badly clothed in homespun,—a light wear which afforded little warmth. They slept in the open air, and frequently without a blanket. Their ordinary food consisted of sweet potatoes, garnished, on fortunate occasions, with lean beef. Their swords, unless taken from the enemy, were made out of mill saws, roughly manufactured by a forest blacksmith.

His scouts were out in all directions, and at all hours. They did the double duty of patrol and spies. They hovered about the posts of the enemy, crouching in the thicket, or darting along the plain, picking up prisoners, and information, and spoils together. They cut off stragglers, encountered patrols of the foe, and arrested his supplies on the way to the garrison. Sometimes the single scout, buried in the thick tops of the tree, looked down upon the march of his legions, or hung, perched over the hostile encampment, till it slept; then slipping down, stole through the silent host, carrying off a drowsy sentinel, or a favorite charger, upon which the daring spy flourished conspicuous among his less fortunate companions.

【中文阅读】

艺术并没有为他的堡垒增加多少舒适或安全感。这个堡垒系他完全用自己的双手，取法自然巧夺天工。慷慨的英国亡命徒谢伍德•弗雷斯特见了后一定会喜欢这个地方。堡垒的周围是深深的峡谷和几条小河，一片由高大和低矮的树木组成的茂密森林将其与外界隔绝开，显得遗世而立。葡萄藤和野蔷薇守卫着城堡的通道。月桂树和灌木，藤蔓和散发着芳香气息的茉莉花在他闭上的眼睑和星星之间吃力地盘绕着。障碍很少会被任何仇敌穿透，通向他住的帐篷的小道上挤满了人，没有谁能悄无声息地接近这个“生来就与别人不同的人”，毫不费力地来到他的午夜休憩之所。沼泽是堡垒的壕沟；而舷墙就是深深的峡谷，这里有警觉的卫兵手持来福枪把守，同莱茵河上的城堡一样完全无法穿过。这儿，他的堡垒属地，游击队员睡得很踏实。

他的动作以同样的敏捷和高度警惕为标志。他不会冒忽视恰当的预防措施这样的风险，他谨慎小心和善于下决心的习惯达到完美的融合。他的计划都会经过事先周密考虑和权衡，始终符合他手下人所处的环境和感觉的节拍。就这个环境做好准备，训练这些感觉，是他安静生活的主要有益活动。在采取行动或拔出武器前，他清楚自己的游戏，以及如何玩这种游戏。

当他本人或同伙为了远征而离开该岛时，他们走的是没人走过的路。他们边走边开路。他具有印第安人特有的根据太阳和星星，根据犬吠声和从树顶上确定路线的特殊能力，诸如樵夫只有经过长期留心才能养成的经验等其他自然形成的向导。

就这样，他在进行远征时曾开拓过许多条小径，现在已经成为这个国家日常使用的道路。在开始时，他几乎一成不变地深入到森林腹地，寻找较大的水流源头，经过最初和浅尝辄止后就趟过去。他摧毁了所能发现的所有桥梁，他喜欢浅滩。前者不但便于无所畏惧的敌人毫无顾忌地行进，而且还等于将自己的行踪告知给了他们。如果说速度是首要前提，那么对进行追踪而言，更直接和不必小心谨慎的路线则是必不可少的。

他不会把自己的计划透露给任何人，甚至连他最信任的官员也不例外。他分别向他们征询意见，耐心地听他们的分析，对他们的建议权衡再三，然后默默得出自己的结论。他们只有从他的行动才能了解他的决定。如果可以避免的话，他采取行动时不会在身后留下任何踪迹。通常，他都徒劳地通过自己的派遣来寻找敌人。他更善于发现他们的行踪，而不是他们发现他。在晚上，他的侦察员能在非常远的距离之外听到奇怪而尖厉的口哨声。我们不禁想起罗德里克•杜的信号：

“他吹起尖厉的口哨，

从小山丘得到回应；

像麻鹬的尖叫那样狂暴，

信号在悬崖间传递。”

他的远征经常持续很久，而他的手下在没有做好准备的情况下匆匆往前赶，偶尔会因为缺少粮食而忍饥挨饿。为了避免这种危险，他们的习惯做法是眼睛盯着他的厨子。如果他们发现他不同寻常地忙着准备简陋和便于携带的食物，这是马里恩在进行远征时的习惯做法，他们清楚就要远征了，这是给他们提供的食物。除此之外，他们无从洞察将军的意图。他特别喜欢在太阳落山时分动身，这样可以彻夜行军。

他的手下穿的都是织得很粗糙的衣服——单薄得无法御寒。他们在露天宿营，经常连毯子也没有。他们平素吃的食物是甘薯，运气好时才能加几片牛肉。除了从敌人那里缴获来的以外，他们的刀剑都是用框锯做成的，经过森林里的铁匠简单锻造而成。

他的侦察员遍布四方，来往穿梭。这些侦查员担负巡逻和间谍双重职责。他们在敌人的岗哨附近出没。他们在茂密的灌木丛里蹲守，或者在平原上来回飞奔，抓获囚犯弄到情报后杀人灭口。他们撇掉落伍的士兵，遭遇敌人的巡逻后，切断要塞守备部队的供应。有时，在大树浓密的树枝上藏身的单个侦察员，俯瞰大部队行进，或者干脆溜进敌人的宿营地藏起来，待敌人鼾声大作时，偷偷进去把困得迷迷糊糊的哨兵或喜爱的战马掠走。而这位胆大的间谍在他那些不那么幸运的伙伴中间，大摇大摆地逃之夭夭。