スーザ自叙伝「進め!Marching Along!」英日対訳


第2章(1/3)英日対訳・スーザ自叙伝「進め!Marching Along!」




























In my boyhood Washington was just a sleepy Southern town. There were omnibuses but of course no trolley cars and the appearance of the first horse-car was a momentous event. The street railway company decided to equip its conductors with a sort of portable cash register worn around the neck like a yoke. One conductor refused to wear it ― we learned later that he was “well-fixed” and lived in a fine residence on the outskirts of Washington. When cable-cars arrived, the drivers appeared in all the glory of great raccoon coats; I have no doubt that I regarded them with much the same admiration and awe with which the pre-school boy regards the 'coon coats of college undergraduates.  



When I see the hectic hurry and the complexities of presentday life, I realized how simple was life in Washington in the sixties. Mother always went to market herself, though I went occasionally on errands. Once she entrusted me with money to buy some things for the household. On my way I was lured aside by an auction sale, where the eloquent barker enticed me, and before I knew it I had bid in several gross of knives and forks made of pseudo-silver. I found that I hadn't money enough to pay for my purchase, but when I tried to explain my plight to the auctioneer, he only shouted, “This damned boy hasn't enough money!” I gave him every cent I had and went home with assortment of worthless knives and forks instead of bread and meat for the family. 



I remember well the fright of Washingtonians at the time of Early's raid, when the Confederate cannon boomed only a few miles away. Every man capable of bearing arms went out to protect the city. As for the Grand Review, after the war was over, surely no normal boy of eleven would miss that spectacle. It is as vivid today as if it all happened only yesterday. I have described it in fiction form in my novel, “Pipetown Sandy,” and I venture to quote here that account which is based on my own recollection of the impression the historic event made upon me. 







It was just a little while after General Grant and General Lee had their great 'conference' at Appomattox and settled things. I guess everybody was mighty (= very) glad they talked it over and made up their mind to quit fighting each other. 



My father was reading the Evening Star after supper and he suddenly says "Jennie, I see in this here paper that the army is coming home". "The Lord be praised for that", says mom and I hope and pray they'll stay home and never go off fighting again". At which point my dad says "Amen !" 



"Jennie," he says, "I feel it's almost 'Lights out' with me (= the end of my life) but if the Lord wills to let me stay till the army comes back I'm gonna put on my uniform and just go out and see them marching up the street". 



My old dad was ailin' a terrible lot (= in a lot of pain) just then. Between three or four lead bullets that had never been taken out, and his sawed off leg, he was full of misery but he never died (croaked). The only way we knew he was suffering was when he would holler out in his sleep and then he wouldn't 'low (= allow =admit) he did when we told him. He would say he was just dreaming of nothing in particular but of course, we knew better. 



Sure enough the corporation (= the city) began cleaning the streets, and hanging out the bunting (=draped banners) and flags and evergreens and there were signs stuck up everywhere that said: "Welcome to the Nation's Heroes", "Welcome to the Army of the Potomac", and "Welcome to the Gallant Fifth and Sheridan's Invincibles” etc.(such like). 

グランドレビューを控え、街中の通りが清められ、横断幕や旗、それから常緑樹も植えられて、街のあちこちに、文言が踊った「歓迎 ポトマック軍」「歓迎 勇猛たる第5連隊」「歓迎 無敵のシェリダン将軍」等々 


The old man got out his uniform and had mom sew up the bullet holes so people wouldn't think it was motheaten or worn out and when the day came he spruced up (got cleaned up and dressed up) and me and him legs it (=walked) uptown to see the soldiers come back. 



When we got to the Capitol, the school children were standing around on all sides waiting. The girls were all dressed in white and the boys had duck pants on and blue jackets and all of them had red white and blue rosettes (circular cloth medallions?) pinned on their shirts. Some of them had bouquets and things like that to give to the soldiers when they came along.  

We stood there a little while and heard them singing "Rally Around the Flag" and "When Johnny Comes Marching Home" and then the old man (=my father) said startingoff (= starting to walk) "Let's mosey along to (= move slowly) where Andy Johnson and Grant are going to review the boys. 




We kept on walking until we got up by (=near) the President's house and we stepped up, brash (=confident) as you please on a stand just across from the place were Andy Johnson and General Grant and the other big guns (generals etc.) were going to sit and look. Nobody said anything to us and we squats (=sat) right down and watched the people come piling in (=arrive in great numbers). 



It was "Governor this" and "Governor that" and "Governor the other"- it was just raining governors. We weren't governors and we knew we didn't belong there but we didn't shout it out so folks could hear us and nobody noticed the difference. Before long there was some clapping and shouting and Andy Johnson and the General came out on the stand opposite (us). Then a lot of high ranking officers and such people hurried on looking very well kept (=well-groomed and clothed) and important. There were two boys among that crowd and somebody said they were the General's children. I 'spect (=expect =guess) they were awful (very) proud of their daddy for you could hear the people hollering "Grant! Grant! Hurray for Grant!" more than anything else just then. 



Well sirs, we heard a rumbling down the street and we knew the army was coming. There was a fine looking general riding in front. One of the pack of governors said "There's Meade!" I'd never seen him before but I took the governor's word for it. Then came a lot of officers some clean and new looking and the others considerably soiled as they passed the President, they saluted with their swords and kept right on. 

I was wishing it would get a little exciting when lickety-split (=all of a sudden) the Devil's own horse came tearing (galloping quickly) up the street for all he was worth (=as fast as he could). He certainly looked bad. The crowd stopped cacklin' (like chickens) and rose up like swarming bees and strained their necks peekin' (to look). There was an officer on the horse with no hat on. His long blond hair was just blowing every which way; there was a great wreath hung on his left arm and that there horse was running as if Satan himself was chasing it. I was so scared I just shut my mouth for fear I'd spit out my heart! My father grabbed my arm as tight as a vise; you could see the mark a week later. 




"My God, he'll be dashed to pieces!" yelled a lady, holding onto the rail. 

"Who is it?" shouted a Governor, shaking like an aspen leaf. 

"It's Custer!" bellowed an officer, jumping on a chair, mos' (=almost) dead (=extremely) from excitement. 

"That's all right!" my daddy yelled as loud as he knew how. "Sit down, and enjoy yourself". 






Just then the horse reared up, and when he came down I thought he was goin' heels over head (= to fall backwards). 

"Oh!" cried all the people shudderin' (shaking in fear). 



"Sit down" my dad yelled again. "Sit down; it's Custer and it's all right. He doesn't ride a horse because he has to; he rides because he can". 



For a moment you could hear a pin drop. And lo and behold we saw the General coming back and his horse was stepping soft and acting as gentle as a parson's (Christian minister's) horse on Sunday. Custer was bowing to Andy (Johnson) and Grant and the ladies as he passed and he was just as calm and smiling as if he was in a parlor. (living room) 



Oh my, how that crowd did clap and hurray! You would've thought there was a house on fire. My dad said he felt like he had hair clean (=completely) down his back and everyone was standing up, when he saw that horse running away but when he heard it was Custer he just laid back and could've snoozed, he felt so peaceful. Pop said Custer wouldn't know how to start getting scared. 



Pretty soon along comes his cav'lry, an' they cert'nly did look scrumptious with their carbines, an' sabers an' red scarfs a-danglin' sassy-like 'round their necks. They had a band, an' it was tootin' chunes that ev'rybody was keepin' time to, an' even Dad was a-pumpin' up an' down with his cork leg.  



After a while the Zoo-Zoos comes by, all in red trimmin's an' read tassels on the caps, an' it wuz jest great, an' the Tramp, Tramp, Tramp the Boys Are Marchin' stayed with me till I got home. Lots of the flags had crape on 'em. One of the guv'ners sed it wuz 'cause Mr. Lincoln had died, an' that wuz mighty sorrowful to ev'rybody aroun' to say nuthin' of ol'dad. 



When dad an' mum an' me was sittin' talkin' 'bout it that night, pop sez: “It wuz fine, an' no mistake.” But after he had lit his pipe, he sez: “Jest wait till to-morrer, an' then yer'll see somethin'. My army is comin'. The Bummers with Uncle Billy an' Black Jack'll be marchin' in, an' they'll make Rome howl!” Pop was powerful fond of Uncle Billy an' Black Jack, an' proud he'd been with The Bummers. When he wuz argufyin' he'd say it might be a matter o' dooty fer a sojer to lose his leg with any army, but with The Bummers it wuz a pleasure, an' I don't believe he'd a-taken it back if hell had froze over. 



Well, sir, nex' mornin', bright an' early, me an' dad starts up, an' when we gits to the Botanical Gardens by the Tiber Creek bridge, we finds a pile o' bricks, an' they looks handy to set on, so we preempts 'em, an' we could see hunky-dory. 



At nine o'clock, “Boom!” goes the signal gun, an' afore yer got tired waitin' along comes The Bummers. They looked like they had been mos' too busy to change their fightin' clo'es. Their broad-brimmed hats looked great, an' the crowd got stuck on 'em mighty soon.  



Officers come 'long with wreaths on their horses' necks an' lots an' er the sojers had bo'kets stuck in their guns, an' Lor' alive, but they did hoof it. Yer could hear em plunk, plunk, plunk, the boys are marchin', till yer couldn't rest. 



Well, sir, here comes a sojer marchin' 'long with his comp'ny, an' I-hope-I-may-die, if he didn't have a raccoon a-settin' on his shoulder. That raccoon jest put his face down by the side of the sojer's cheek an' looked out at the crowd, jest as sharp an' bright as yer please, an' it seemed to me he was sayin': 



“I've bin there, I've bin there; I've bin fightin'.” 



The crowd clapped and laughed to split their sides. Then up comes a tall sojer carrying' a flag pole, an' the flag was faded an' shot to pieces. There wuz stains on it that looked like blood, an' all at once the breeze jest flung that flag out, proud an' defiant like, an' I thought it sed, plain as possible: 



“I've bin there, I've bin there; I've bin fightin'.” 



The crowd clapped till the flag was out er sight, an' pretty soon along comes mules, an' donkeys, an' goats, an' dogs, an' cows, an'-I-hope-I-may-die if there wuzn't a rooster perched on a horse's back, an a-crowin: 



“I've bin there, I've bin there; I've bin fightin'.” An' we jest went crazy, clappin'. 



When the sappers an' miners comes, their blouses tucked in their pants, an' their belts tightened, an' shoulderin' their shovels, picks an' axes, we knowed they'd bin there. We knowed they had chopped, had dug, had shoveled their way to vict'ry an' to Glory Hallelujah. An' when they passed, the line comes to a halt fer a minute. My ol' dad wuz keepin' both eyes open, an' all of a sudden I seen a sojer lookin' at dad, an' he hollers out: 



“Well, I'll be damned; there's Dan Coggles!” And afore yer could say Jack Robinson, he tosses his gun to another feller, an' rushed over to dad an' honest-to-goodness, if they didn't hug each other like they wuz two mothers. 



“I thought yer wuz dead, Dan,” said the sojer, as if he wuz goin' to cry. 



“I heerd you wuz, Sam,” said dad, an' he wuz a-blubberin'. “No; I'm all right,” said Sam, laughin' happy like an' pattin' my head. 



“An' I'm all right, too,” said dad. He wuzn't, but he didn't let on. 



An' then I know'd the sojer was Sam Dickson who had gone to the war with dad, an' they had marched an' starved an' almost died together. I knowed it, fer one of the other sojers told me. 



Well, sir, what must we do, but dad jest takes his place in that 'ere comp'ny right 'long side o'Sam, an' Sam handed his gun to me, an' I walked in front a-totin' it at right-shoulder-shift, jest like all the sojers in the regiment. 



An' Tramp, Tramp, Tramp the Boys Are Marchin' we went up the Av'nue. Dad stepped out jest as if he hadn't enny cork leg, an' I streched my shank's fer all I wuz worth. 



The people clapped an' clapped, an' give me a bo'ket, an' dad got a lot of 'em, an' the officer who wuz marching' right in front er the comp'ny kep' his eyes glued ahead, an' pretendin' he didn't see nothin' which cert'nly was mighty white er him 



We wheeled round the corner. Jest as we got to the gran' stan' the officers shouted out their orders. Me an' the Bummers presented arms, an' dad s'luted as we passed the President. The crowd seemed jest crazy happy but I wuz orful lonesome, 'cause I wuz the only one in that 'ere hull review who couldn't say: 



“I've bin there, I've bin there; I've bin fightin'.”