父親拆看我的信件

By+Clarence+Day

There was a time in my boyhood when I felt that Father had handicapped（造成麻煩）me severely in life by naming me after him， “Clarence.” All literature， so far as I could see， was thronged with（充斥著）objectionable persons（被人討厭的角色）named Clarence. Percy was bad enough， but there had been some good fighters named Percy. The only Clarence in history was a duke（公爵）who did something dirty at Tewkesbury， and who died a ridiculous death afterwards in a barrel of malmsey（馬姆齊甜酒）.

As for the Clarences in the fiction I read， they were horrible. In one story， for instance， there were two brothers， Clarence and Frank. Clarence was a “vain（虛榮的）disagreeable（令人討厭的）little fellow，” who was proud of his curly hair and fine clothes， while Frank was a“rollicking（喧鬧的）boy who was ready to play games with anybody.” Clarence didnt like to play games， of course. He just minced around（裝腔作勢）looking on（旁觀）.

One day when the mother of these boys had gone out， this story went on， Clarence “tempted” Frank to disobey her and fly their kite on the roof. Frank didnt want to， but Clarence kept taunting（嘲弄）him and daring（激某人做某事）him until Frank was stung（被刺激）into doing it. After the two boys went up to the roof， Frank got good and dirty（非常臟）， running up and down and stumbling over scuttles（天窗）， while Clarence sat there， giving him orders， and kept his natty（整潔而漂亮的）clothes tidy. To my horror， he even spread out his handkerchief on the trapdoor（地板上的活門）to sit on. And to crown all（最糟糕的是）， this sneak（告密者）told on（揭發(fā)，告密）Frank as soon as their mother came in.

I asked Mother how this name had ever happened to spring up（涌現(xiàn)）in our family. She explained that my great-great-grandfather was Benjamin Day， and my greatgrandfather was Henry， and consequently my grandfather had been named Benjamin Henry. He in turn had named his eldest son Henry and his second son Benjamin. The result was that when Father was born there was no family name left. The privilege of choosing a name for Father had thereupon（于是，因此）been given to Grandma， and unluckily for the Day family she had been reading a novel， the hero of which was named Clarence.

I knew that Grandma， though very like Grandpa in some respects， had a dreamy side which he hadnt， a side that she usually kept to herself， in her serene（平靜的）， quiet way. Her romantic choice of this name probably made Grandpa smile， but he was a detached（冷靜的，客觀的）sort of man who didnt take small matters seriously， and who drew a good deal of private amusement from the happenings of everyday life. Besides， he was partly to blame in this case， because that novel was one he had published himself in his magazine.

I asked Mother， when she had finished， why I had been named Clarence too.

It hadnt been her choice， Mother said. She had suggested all sorts of names to Father， but there seemed to be something wrong with each one. When she had at last spoken of naming me after him， however， he had said at once that that was the best suggestion yet—he said it sounded just right.

Father and I would have had plenty of friction（摩擦，沖突）in any case. This identity of names made things worse. Every time that I had been more of a fool than he liked， Father would try to impress on me my responsibilities as his eldest son， and above all as the son to whom he had given his name， as he put it. A great deal was expected， it seemed to me， of a boy who was named after his father. I used to envy my brothers， who didnt have anything expected of them on this score（因為此事）at all.

I envied them still more after I was old enough to begin getting letters. I then discovered that when Father“gave” me his name he had also， not unnaturally I had to admit， retained it himself， and when anything came for Clarence S. Day he opened it， though it was sometimes for me.

He also opened everything that came addressed to Clarence S. Day， Jr.（小，用于與父親同名的男子姓名后）. He didnt do this intentionally（故意地）， but unless the“Jr.” was clearly written， it looked like “Esq.（先生，對男士的敬稱），” and anyhow Father was too accustomed to open all Clarence Day letters to remember about looking carefully every time for a “Jr.” So far as mail and express went， I had no name at all of my own.

For the most part nobody wrote to me when I was a small boy except firms whose advertisements I had read in the Youths Companion（《青年之友》）and to whom I had written requesting them to send me their circulars（促銷傳單）. These circulars described remarkable bargains（特價品）in magicians card outfits（全套魔法師圖案的卡片）， stamps and coins， pocket-knives， trick spiders（用來惡作劇嚇唬人的蜘蛛）， and imitation fried eggs， and they seemed interesting and valuable to me when I got them. The trouble was that Father usually got them and at once tore them up. I then had to write for such circulars again， and if Father got the second one， too， he would sometimes explode with annoyance. He became particularly indignant（憤怒的）one year， I remember， when he was repeatedly urged to take advantage of a special bargain sale of false whiskers（假胡須）. He said that he couldnt understand why these offerings kept pouring in. I knew why， in this case， but at other times I was often surprised myself at the number he got， not realizing that as a result of my postcard request my or our name had been automatically put on several large general mailing lists.

During this period I got more of my mail out of Fathers waste-basket than I did from the postman.

At the age of twelve or thirteen， I stopped writing for these childish things and turned to a new field. Father and I， whichever of us got at（著手處理）the mail first， then began to receive not merely circulars but personal letters beginning：

DEAR FRIEND DAY：

In reply to your valued request for one of our Mammoth Agents Outfits（猛犸象代理商代理的服裝）， kindly forward post-office order for $1.49 to cover cost of postage and packing， and we will put you in a position to earn a large income in your spare time with absolutely no labor on your part， by taking subscriptions（訂閱）for The Secret Handbook of Mesmerism（催眠術(shù)）， and our Tales of Blood series.

And one spring， I remember， as the result of what I had intended to be a secret application on my part， Father was assigned “the exclusive（專有的）rights for Staten Island and Hoboken（斯塔滕島和霍博肯）of selling the Gem Home Popper（最佳家用爆玉米花機）for Pop Corn. Housewives buy it at sight.”

After Father had stormily endured（忍耐）these afflictions（折磨）for a while， he and I began to get letters from girls. Fortunately for our feelings， these were rare， but they were ordeals（煎熬）for both of us. Father had forgotten， if he ever knew， how silly young girls can sound， and I got my first lesson in how unsystematic they were. No matter how private and playful they meant their letters to be， they forgot to put “Jr.” on the envelope every once in so often. When Father opened these letters， he read them all the way through， sometimes twice， muttering to himself over and over： “This is very peculiar. I dont understand this at all. Heres a letter to me from some person I never heard of. I cant see what its about.” By the time it had occurred to him that possibly the letter might be for me， I was red and embarrassed and even angrier at the girl than at Father. And on days when he had read some of the phrases aloud to the family， it nearly killed me to claim it（承認信是我的）.

In the days when Mrs. Pankhurst1 and her friends were chaining（用鐵鏈捆）themselves to lamp-posts（路燈柱）in London， in their campaign for the vote， a letter came from Frances Hand trustfully asking “Dear Clarence” to do something to help Woman Suffrage（婦女選舉權(quán)）—speak at a meeting， I think. Father got red in the face. “Speak at one of their meetings！” he roared at Mother.

“Id like nothing better！ You can tell Mrs. Hand that it would give me great pleasure to inform all those crackpots（瘋子）in petticoats（襯裙）exactly what I think of their antics（滑稽古怪的行為）.”

“Now， Clare，” Mother said， “you mustnt talk that way. I like that nice Mrs. Hand， and anyhow this letter must be for Clarence.”

One time I asked Father for his opinion of a low-priced stock Id been watching. His opinion was that it was not worth a damn（一文不值）. I thought this over， but I still wished to buy it， so I placed a scale order（分段訂單）with another firm instead of with Fathers office， and said nothing about it. At the end of the month this other firm sent me a statement， setting forth each of my little transactions（交易）in full， and of course they forgot to put the “Jr.” at the end of my name. When Father opened the envelope， he thought at first in his excitement that this firm had actually opened an account for him without being asked. I found him telling Mother that hed like to wring（擰斷）their damned necks.

“That must be for me， Father，” I said， when I took in what had happened.

We looked at each other.

“You bought this stuff？” he said incredulously（懷疑地）. “After all I said about it？”

“Yes， Father.”

He handed over the statement and walked out of the room.

Both he and I felt offended and angry. We stayed so for several days， too， but we then made it up.

Once in a while when I got a letter that I had no time to answer I used to address an envelope to the sender and then put anything in it that happened to be lying around on my desk—a circular about books， a piece of newspaper， an old laundry bill—anything at all， just to be amiable（和藹可親的）， and yet at the same time to save myself the trouble of writing. I happened to tell several people about this private habit of mine at a dinner one night—a dinner at which Alice Duer Miller2 and one or two other writers were present. A little later she wrote me a criticism of Henry James3 and ended by saying that I neednt send her any of my old laundry bills because she wouldnt stand it. And she forgot to put on the “Jr.”

“In the name of God，” Father said bleakly（陰郁地）， “this is the worst yet. Heres a woman who says Id better not read The Golden Bowl（《金碗》，亨利·詹姆斯的小說）， which I have no intention whatever of doing， and she also warns me for some unknown reason not to send her my laundry bills.”

The good part of all these experiences， as I realize now， was that in the end they drew Father and me closer together. My brothers had only chance battles with him. I had a war. Neither he nor I relished（享受）its clashes， but they made us surprisingly intimate.

1. 埃米琳·潘克赫斯特（Emmeline Pankhurst，1858—1928），英國政治活動家，現(xiàn)代婦女運動的先驅(qū)，為爭取婦女選舉權(quán)做出了巨大貢獻。

2. 愛麗絲·杜爾·米勒（1874—1942），美國女詩人、作家。

3. 亨利·詹姆斯（1843—1916），美國作家，出身于紐約上層知識分子家庭，對19世紀末美國和歐洲的上層生活有細致入微的觀察，代表作有《一位女士的畫像》、《鴿翼》、《金碗》等。