第7章 一个古怪的梦(2)

“我们都要离开这里，无法忍受在后代手里遭受这样的待遇。他们开辟新的墓地，却让我们忍受这样的耻辱；他们整修街道，却从来不整修我们周围或是属于我们的东西。看看我的棺材——告诉你，那个年代，这可是在任何客厅都会吸引眼球的东西。你想要的话，就拿走吧——我可没钱修了。给它换一块新底板，顶板换一部分新的，左侧再加一点儿新的衬垫，你就会发现它跟你用过的所有器物一样，很舒服。”

“别客气——不，不用客气——你对我很客气，在我觉得你不领情之前，我愿意把我所有的财产都给你。瞧，这身裹尸布其实是很好的东西。如果你想——不要？那好吧，随便你，但我还是大方一些——我这人一点儿也不小气。再见，朋友，我要走了，今晚我还要走好远的路呢——谁知道呢？不过，有件事我很明白，那就是我已经是流浪汉了，我彻底告别那块破败的墓地了。在找到体面的住处之前，我要不停地走，哪怕一直走到新泽西州去。我们那一块的人都要走了。昨晚大家秘密商议，我们都决定离开，天亮之前，一根骨头也不留在老墓地。这样的墓地对我那些活着的朋友合适，可对我们这些有幸说这番话的死人并不合适。我的观点是大多数人的观点。要是怀疑，你就去看看那些将要离开的鬼魂出发前的混乱程度吧。他们在宣泄自己的厌恶时差点儿要暴动了。”

“嗨！过来的是一些布莱索家族的人，不知道你能不能帮我扶一下这块墓碑，我想和他们结伴而行，一起走——布莱索家族是非常尊贵的古老家族。50年前，当我白天在街道上散步的时候，他们总是坐在6匹马拉的豪华马车里，显赫一时。再见，朋友。”

他扛着墓碑，拖着那口破旧的棺材，加入了这一恐怖的行列。尽管他诚心诚意，我还是婉拒了他的好意。这些可怜的流浪汉带着他们可怜的财物咔嚓咔嚓地从我的身边走过，超过两小时。怀着对他们遭遇的深切同情，我一直坐在那里。

他们中间有一两个最年轻、最完整的死人向我打听午夜火车的发车时间，但其余的死人可能还不熟悉这种旅行方式，只是向我询问前往各个城市的路，包括那些已经从地图上消失了的。30多年前，它们就从地图和地球上永远消失了，有几条也只是存在于从前的地图或者一些房地产公司的图纸上。他们还询问这些市镇的墓地环境，以及该地市民是不是敬重死者等问题。

这件事引起了我极大的兴趣，同样也激起我对这些无家可归的流浪者的同情。所有的一切都显得那么真实，以至于我根本都没有意识到这只是个梦。于是，我向一位裹着裹尸布的流浪汉说出了我的想法：记录并发表这次奇特而悲壮的大逃亡，同时我也说，我的描述不可能非常确切，就像真实发生过的事情那样，只要看上去不是在敷衍一个严肃的话题，或者表现对死者的大不敬，那就足够了。否则，我会惊动他们那些活着的朋友，让他们感到悲伤。然而，这位前公民温和而庄严的残骸远远地靠在我的门前，对我耳语说：

“别为那件事自找麻烦了。社区既然能够容忍那片让我们纷纷逃离的墓地，自然也能够忍受一个人对死者受到的忽视和遗弃所发出的控诉。”

就在这个时候，公鸡一声啼鸣，鬼魂队伍一下子消失了，一片破布、一根骨头都没有留下。我醒了过来，发现自己躺在床上，头低垂着伸在床外，脸朝下——这是很适合做梦的姿势。这种梦可能很有内涵，可能吧，但绝不会有诗情画意。

注：读者们如果确信自己城市里的墓地被维护得很好，这个梦所针对的就肯定不是他们的城市。显而易见，它是蓄意针对其他城市的。

Night before last I had a singular dream. I seemed to be sitting on a doorstep（in no particular city perhaps）ruminating， and the time of night appeared to be about twelve or one o'clock.The weather was balmy and delicious.There was no human sound in the air， not even a footstep.There was no sound of any kind to emphasize the dead stillness， except the occasional hollow barking of a dog in the distance and the fainter answer of a further dog.Presently up the street I heard a bony clack-clacking， and guessed it was the castanets of a serenading party.

In a minute more a tall skeleton， hooded， and half clad in a tattered and moldy shroud， whose shreds were flapping about the ribby latticework of its person， swung by me with a stately stride and disappeared in the gray gloom of the starlight. It had a broken and worm-eaten coffin on its shoulder and a bundle of something in its hand.I knew what the clack-clacking was then；it was this party's joints working together， and his elbows knocking against his sides as he walked.

I may say I was surprised. Before I could collect my thoughts and enter upon any speculations as to what this apparition might portend， I heard another one coming for I recognized his clack-clack.He had two-thirds of a coffin on his shoulder， and some foot and head boards under his arm.I mightily wanted， to peer under his hood and speak to him， but when he turned and smiled upon me with his cavernous sockets and his projecting grin as he went by， I thought I would not detain him.He was hardly gone when I heard the clacking again， and another one issued from the shadowy half-light.This one was bending under a heavy gravestone， and dragging a shabby coffin after him by a string.When he got to me he gave me a steady look for a moment or two， and then rounded to and backed up to me， saying：

"Ease this down for a fellow， will you？"

I eased the gravestone down till it rested on the ground， and in doing so noticed that it bore the name of "John Baxter Copmanhurst，" with "May，1839，" as the date of his death. Deceased sat wearily down by me， and wiped his frontal with his major maxillary—chiefly from former habit I judged， for I could not see that he brought away any perspiration.

"It is too bad， too bad，" said he， drawing the remnant of the shroud about him and leaning his jaw pensively on his hand. Then he put his left foot up on his knee and fell to scratching his anklebone absently with a rusty nail which he got out of his coffin.

"What is too bad， friend？"

"Oh， everything， everything. I almost wish I never had died."

"You surprise me. Why do you say this？Has anything gone wrong？What is the matter？"

"Matter！Look at this shroud-rags. Look at this gravestone， all battered up.Look at that disgraceful old coffin.All a man's property going to ruin and destruction before his eyes， and ask him if anything is wrong？Fire and brimstone！"

"Calm yourself， calm yourself，" I said. "It is too bad-it is certainly too bad， but then I had not supposed that you would much mind such matters situated as you are."

"Well， my dear sir， I do mind them. My pride is hurt， and my comfort is impaired—destroyed， I might say.I will state my case—I will put it to you in such a way that you can comprehend it， if you will let me，"said the poor skeleton， tilting the hood of his shroud back， as if he were clearing for action， and thus unconsciously giving himself a jaunty and festive air very much at variance with the grave character of his position in life—so to speak—and in prominent contrast with his distressful mood.

"Proceed，" said I.

"I reside in the shameful old graveyard a block or two above you here， in this street—there， now， I just expected that cartilage would let go！—third rib from the bottom， friend， hitch the end of it to my spine with a string， if you have got such a thing about you， though a bit of silver wire is a deal pleasanter， and more durable and becoming， if one keeps it polished—to think of shredding out and going to pieces in this way， just on account of the indifference and neglect of one's posterity！"