高山上的呼喊-go tell it on the mountain-第2部分

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something　for　all　thewomen　in　the　novel；　and　for　James　Baldwin；　one　suspects；　contemplating　the　fate　of　the　women　inhis　early　life；　when　she　looks　at　the　face　of　Frank。　‘It　sometimes　came　to　her；’　Baldwin　writes；‘that　all　women　had　been　cursed　from　the　cradle’；　all；　in　one　fashion　or　another；　being　given　thesame　cruel　destiny；　born　to　suffer　the　weight　of　men。’　Florence　remembers　the　beginning　of　herown　cruel　destiny。　It　began　with　the　birth　of　Gabriel。　After　this　her　future　was　‘swallowed　up’；　andhe　life　was　over：　‘There　was　only　one　future　in　that　house；　and　it　was　Gabriel’s　–　to　which；　sinceGabriel　was　a　man…child；　all　else　must　be　sacrificed。’
　　Baldwin　is　unusual　–　and　controversial；　for　more　traditional　black　writers；　as　well　as　thecountercultural　ones　ahead　of　him　–　in　making　the　African…American　bid　for　freedom　plicated。
　　For　Florence；　and　for　her　nephew　John　Grimes；　‘free　at　last’　would　have　to　mean　several　things；not　only　free　from　the　Old　South；　or　free　from　the　evils　of　segregation；　but　the　freedom　to　enter　theworld　outside；　and　freedom　from　the　hatreds　of　the　family　kitchen。　‘And　this　because　Florence’sdeep　ambition：　to　walk　out　one　morning　through　the　cabin　door；　never　to　return。’　But　the　novelknows　there　is　a　price　to　be　paid　for　this　too。　Elizabeth；　a　long　time　away　from　the　South；　enjoyedwalking　in　Central　Park；　because　‘it　recreated　something　of　the　landscape　she　had　known’。
　　Baldwin　never　got　over　his　religious　crisis　at　the　age　of　fourteen。　He　didn’t　forget。　‘Thatsummer。’　he　writes　in　The　Fire　Next　Time；　‘all　the　fears　with　which　I　had　grown　up；　and　whichwere　now　a　part　of　me　and　controlled　my　vision　of　the　world；　rose　up　like　a　wall　between　theworld　and　me；　and　drove　me　into　the　church。’　He　surrendered　to　a　spiritual　seduction；　falling　downbefore　the　altar；　and　thereafter　preaching　for　three　years。　Baldwin　recalls　his　father　one　dayslapping　his　face；　‘and　in　that　moment　everything　flooded　back　–　all　the　hatred　and　all　the　fear；　andthe　depth　of　a　merciless　resolve　to　kill　my　father　rather　than　allow　my　father　to　kill　me　–　and　Iknew　that　all　those　sermons　and　tears　and　all　that　repentance　and　rejoicing　had　changed　nothing’。
　　Baldwin　put　the　essence　of　all　of　this　into　Go　Tell　it　on　the　Mountain。　Gabriel　has　thepreacher’s　traditional　love　of　helplessness；　and　traditional　anger　in　the　face　of　self…sufficiency。　Yetthe　central　issues　of　Gabriel’s　life　are　his　hypocrisy；　and　the　sexual　desire　that　acpanies　therejoicing　of　religious　life。　His　treatment　of　Esther　bines　the　two　（‘I　guess　it　takes　a　holy　man　tomake　a　girl　a　real　whore；’　she　say）　but　only　Florence　seems　aware　of　the　truth　after　Ester　is　dead。
　　At　the　close　of　the　novel　she　seeks　to　name　the　tree　by　its　fruit。　And　John；　who　is　not　strange　fruitof　that　tree；　might　live　to　curse　all　lies　and　go　free　into　the　world。
　　Baldwin；　all　his　writing；　insisted　he　wrote　only　from　experience。　That　was　the　kind　ofwriter　he　was：　he　meant　every　word。　There　would　always　be　something　of　the　pulpit　on　Baldwin’swriting；　and　something　too　of　the　threshing　floor。　Go　Tell　It　on　the　Mountain　is　a　beautiful；enduring；　spiritual　song　of　a　novel；　a　gush　of　life　from　a　haunted　American　church。　Like　manywriters　with　a　religious　past；　the　young　man　who　wrote　this　novel　was　stranded　in　the　space　between　his　own　body　and　the　body　of　Christ；　and　strung　between　the　father　he　hated　and　theFather　who　might　offer　him　salvation。　John　Grimes　finds　the　beginning　of　his　redemption　in　thevery　place　where　his　father　lived　out　his　hypocrisy；　the　church；　where　Gabriel　spawned　so　much　ofthe　trouble　in　their　lives。　Here；　at　last；　after　all　is　said　and　done；　John　Grimes　can　go　in　search　ofthe　Everlasting；　‘over　his　father’s　head　to　Heaven　–　to　the　Father　who　loved　him’。
　　Andrew　O’HaganAndrew　O’Hagan　was　born　in　Glasgow　in　1968。　He　is　the　author　of　The　Missing；　a　bookabout　missing　persons；　and　Our　Fathers；　a　novel　shortlisted　for　the　Booker　Prize；　a　WhitbreadAward；　the　John　Llewellyn　Rhys　Prize　and　the　IMPAC　Dublin　International　Literary　Award。　He　isa　contributing　editor　to　the　London　Review　of　Books。
　　For　My　Father　and　Mother　They　that　wait　upon　the　Lord　shall　renew　their　strength；they　shall　mount　up　with　wings　like　eagles；they　shall　turn　and　not　be　weary；they　shall　walk　and　not　faint。
Part　1　The　Seventh　Day
And　the　Spirit　and　the　bride　say；e。　And　let　him　that　heareth　saye。　And　let　him　that　is　athirste。　And　whosoever　will；　let　himtake　the　water　of　life　freely。
　　I　looked　down　the　line；　　　　And　I　wondered　　　Everyone　had　always　said　that　John　would　be　a　preacher　when　he　grew　up；　just　like　his　father。　Ithas　been　so　often　that　John；　without　ever　thinking　about　it；　had　e　to　believe　it　himself。　Notuntil　the　morning　of　his　fourteenth　birthday　did　he　really　begin　to　think　about　it；　and　by　then　it　wasalready　too　late。
　　His　earliest　memories—which　were　in　a　way；　his　only　memories—were　of　the　hurry　andbrightness　of　Sunday　mornings。　They　all　rose　together　on　that　day；　his　father；　who　did　not　have　togo　to　work；　and　led　them　in　prayer　before　breakfast；　his　mother；　who　dressed　up　on　that　day；　andlooked　almost　young；　with　her　hair　straightened；　and　on　her　head　the　close…fitting　white　cap　thatwas　the　uniform　of　holy　women；　his　younger　brother；　Roy；　who　was　silent　that　day　because　hisfather　was　home。　Sarah；　who　wore　a　red　ribbon　in　her　hair　that　day；　and　was　fondled　by　her　father。
　　And　the　baby；　Ruth；　who　was　dressed　in　pink　and　white；　and　rode　in　her　mother’s　arms　to　church。
　　The　church　was　not　very　far　away；　four　block　up　Lenox　Avenue；　on　a　corner　not　far　fromthe　hospital。　It　was　to　this　hospital　that　his　mother　had　gone　when　Roy；　and　Sarah；　and　Ruth　wereborn。　John　did　not　remember　very　clearly　the　first　time　she　had　gone；　to　have　Roy；　folks　said　thathe　had　cried　and　carried　on　the　whole　time　his　mother　was　away；　he　remembered　only　enough　tobe　afraid　every　time　her　belly　began　to　swell；　knowing　that　each　time　the　swelling　began　it　wouldnot　end　until　she　was　taken　from　him；　to　e　back　with　an　stranger。　Each　time　this　happened　shebecame　a　little　more　of　a　stranger　herself。　She　would　soon　be　going　away　again；　Roy　said—heknew　much　more　about　such　things　than　John。　John　had　observed　his　mother　closely；　seeing　no　swelling　yet；　but　his　father　had　prayed　one　morning　for　the　‘little　voyager　soon　to　be　among　them；’
　　and　so　John　knew　that　Roy　spoke　the　truth。
　　Every　Sunday　morning；　then；　since　John　could　remember；　they　had　taken　to　the　Streets；　theGrimes　family　on　their　way　to　church。　Sinners　along　the　avenue　watched　tem—men　still　wearingtheir　Sunday…night　clothes；　wrinkled　and　dusty　now；　muddy…eyed　and　muddy…faced；　and　thewomen　with　harsh　voices　and　tight；　bright　dresses；　cigarettes　between　their　finger　or　held　tightly　inthe　corners　of　their　mouths。　They　talked；　and　laughed；　and　fought　together；　and　the　women　foughtlike　the　men。　John　and　Roy；　passing　these　men　and　women；　looked　at　one　another　briefly；　Johnembarrassed　and　Roy　amused。　Roy　would　be　like　them　when　he　grew　up；　if　the　Lord　did　notchange　his　heart。　These　men　and　women　they　passed　on　Sunday　mornings　had　spent　the　night　inbars；　or　in　cat　houses；　or　on　the　streets；　or　on　the　rooftops；　or　under　the　stairs。　They　had　beendrinking。　They　had　gone　from　cursing　to　laughter；　to　anger；　to　lust。　Once　he　and　Roy　had　watcheda　man　and　woman　in　the　basement　of　a　condemned　house。　They　did　it　standing　up。　The　womanhad　wanted　fifty　cents；　and　the　man　had　flashed　a　razor。
　　John　had　never　watched　again；　he　had　been　afraid。　But　Roy　had　watched　them　many　times；and　he　told　John　he　had　done　it　with　some　girls　down　the　block。
　　And　his　mother　and　father；　who　went　to　church　on　Sundays；　they　did　it　too；　and　sometimesJohn　heard　them　in　the　bedroom　behind　him；　over　the　sound　of　rat’s　feet；　and　rat　screams；　and　themusic　and　cursing　from　the　harlot’s　house　downstairs。
　　Their　church　was　called　the　Temple　of　the　Fire　Baptized。　It　was　not　the　biggest　church　inHarlem；　not　yet　the　smallest；　but　John　had　been　brought　up　to　believe　it　was　the　holiest　and　best。
　　His　father　was　head　deacon　in　this　church—there　were　only　two；　the　other　a　round；　black　mannamed　Deacon　Braithwaite—and　he　took　up　the　collection；　and　sometimes　he　preached。　Thepastor；　Father　James；　was　a　genial；　well…fed　man　with　a　face　like　a　darker　moon。　It　was　he　whopreached　on　Pentecost　Sundays；　and　led　revivals　in　the　summer…time；　and　anointed　and　healed　thesick。
　　On　Sunday　mornings　and　Sunday　nights　the　church　was　always　full；　on　special　Sundays　itwas　full　all　day。　The　Grimes　family　arrived　in　a　body；　always　a　little　late；　usually　in　the　middle　ofSunday　school；　which　began　at　nine　o’clock。　This　lateness　was　always　their　mother’s　fault—atleast　in　the　eyes　of　their　father；　she　could　not　seem　to　get　herself　and　the　children　ready　on　time；ever；　and　sometimes　she　actually　remained　behind；　not　to　appear　until　the　morning　service。　Whenthey　all　arrived　together；　they　separated　upon　entering　the　doors；　father　and　mother　going　to　sit　inthe　Adult　Class；　which　was　taught　by　Sister　McCandless；　Sarah　going　to　the　Infants’　Class；　Johnand　Roy　sitting　in　the　Intermediate；　which　was　taught　by　Brother　Elisha。
　　When　he　was　young；　John　had　paid　no　attention　in　Sunday　school；　and　always　forgot　thegolden　text；　which　earned　him　the　wrath　of　his　father。　Around　the　time　of　his　fourteenth　birthday；with　all　the　pressures　of　church　and　home　uniting　to　drive　him　to　the　altar；　he　strove　to　appearmore　serious　and　therefore　less　conspicuous。　But　he　was　distracted　by　his　new　teacher；　Elisha；　whowas　the　pastor’s　nephew　and　who　had　but　lately　arrived　from　Georgia。　He　was　not　much　older　thanJohn；　only　seventeen；　and　he　was　already　saved　and　was　a　preacher。　John　stared　at　Elisha　allduring　the　lesson；　admiring　the　timbre　of　Elisha’s　voice；　much　deeper　and　manlier　than　his　own；　admiring　the　leanness；　and　grace；　and　strength；　and　darkness　of　Elisha　in　his　Sunday　suit；wondering　if　he　would　ever　be　holy　as　Elisha　was　holy。　But　he　did　not　follow　the　lesson；　andwhen；　sometimes；　Elisha　paused　to　ask　John　a　question；　John　was　ashamed　and　confused；　feelingthe　palms　of　his　hands　bee　wet　and　his　heart　pound　like　a　hammer。　Elisha　would　smile　andreprimand　him　gently；　and　the　lesson　would　go　on。
　　Roy　never　knew　his　Sunday　school　lesson　either；　but　it　was　different　with　Roy—no　onereally　expected　of　Roy　what　was　expected　of　John。　Everyone　was　always　praying　that　the　Lordwould　change　Roy’s　heart；　but　it　was　John　who　was　expected　to　be　good；　to　be　a　good　example。
　　When　Sunday　school　service　ended　there　was　a　short　pause　before　morning　service　began。
　　In　this　pause；　if　it　was　good　weather；　the　old　folks　might　step　outside　a　moment　to　talk　amongthemselves。　The　sisters　would　almost　always　be　dressed　in　white　from　crown　to　tow。　The　smallchildren；　on　this　day；　in　this　place；　and　oppressed　by　their　elders；　tried　hard　to　play　withoutseeming　to　be　disrespectful　of　God’s　house。　But　sometimes；　nervous　or　perverse；　they　shouted；　orthrew　hymn…books；　or　began　to　cry；　putting　their　parents；　men　or　women　of　God；　under　thenecessity　of　proving—by　harsh　means　or　tender—who；　in　a　sanctified　household；　ruled。　The　olderchildren；　like　John　or　Roy；　might　wander　down　the　avenue；　but　not　too　far。　Their　father　never　letJohn　and　Roy　out　of　his　sight；　for　Roy　had　often　disappeared　between　Sunday　school　and　morningservice　and　has　not　e　back　all　day。
　　The　Sunday　morning　service　began　when　Brother　Elisha　sat　down　at　the　piano　and　raised　asong。　This　moment　and　this　music　had　been　with　John；　so　it　seemed；　since　he　had　first　drawnbreath。　It　seemed　that　there　had　never　been　a　time　when　he　had　not　known　this　moment　of　waitingwhile　the　packed　church　paused—the　sisters　in　white；　heads　raised；　the　brothers　in　blue；　headsback；　the　white　caps　of　the　women　seeming　to　glow　in　the　charged　air　like　crowns；　the　kinky；gleaming　heads　of　the　men　seeming　to　be　lifted　up—and　the　rustling　and　the　whispering　ceasedand　the　children　eone　coughed；　or　the　sound　of　a　car　horn；　or　a　curse　fromthe　streets　came　in；　the　Elisha　hit　the　keys；　beginning　at　once　to　sing；　and　everybody　joined　him；clapping　their　hands；　and　rising；　and　beating　the　tambourines。
　　The　song　might　be：　Down　at　the　cross　where　my　Savior　died！
　　Or：　Jesus；　I’ll　never　forget　how　you　set　me　free！
　　Or：　Lord；　hold　my　hand　while　I　run　this　race！
　　They　sang　with　all　the　strength　that　was　in　them；　and　clapped　their　hands　for　joy。　There　hadnever　been　a　time　when　John　had　not　sat　watching　the　saints　rejoice　with　terror　in　his　heart；　andwonder。　Their　singing　caused　him　to　believe　in　the　presence　of　the　Lord；　indeed；　it　was　no　longer　aquestion　of　belief；　because　they　made　that　presence　real。　He　did　not　feel　it　himself；　the　joy　theyfelt；　yet　he　could　not　doubt　that　it　was；　for　them；　the　very　bread　of　life—could　not　doubt　it；　that　is；until　it　was　too　late　to　doubt。　Something　happened　to　their　faces　and　their　voices；　the　rhythm　oftheir　bodies；　and　to　the　air　they　breathed；　it　was　as　though　wherever　they　might　be　became　theupper　room；　and　the　Holy　Ghost　were　riding　on　the　air。　His　father’s　face；　always　awful；　becamemore　awful　now；　his　father’s　daily　anger　was　transformed　into　prophetic　wrath。　His　mother；　hereyes　raised　to　heaven；　hands　arked　before　her；　moving；　made　real　for　John　that　patience；　thatendurance；　that　long　suffering；　which　he　had　read　of　in　the　Bible　and　found　so　hard　to　imagine。
　　　On　Sunday　mornings　the　women　all　seemed　patient；　all　the　men　seemed　mighty。　WhileJohn　watched；　the　Power　struck　someone；　a　man　or　woman；　they　cried　out；　a　long；　wordlesscrying；　and；　arms　outstretched　like　wings；　they　began　the　Shout。　Someone　moved　a　chair　a　little　togive　them　room；　the　rhythm　paused；　the　singing　stopped；　only　the　pounding　feet　and　the　clappinghands　were　heard；　then　another　cry；　another　dancer；　then　the　tambourines　began　again；　and　thevoices　rose　again；　and　the　music　swept　on　again；　like　fire；　or　flood；　or　judgment。　Then　the　churchseemed　to　swell　with　the　Power　it　held；　and；　like　a　pla　rocking　in　space；　the　temple　rocked　withthe　Power　of　God。　John　watched；　watched　the　faces；　and　the　weightless　bodies；　and　listened　to　thetimeless　cries。　One　day；　so　everyone　said；　this　Power　would　possess　him；　he　would　sing　and　cry　asthey　did　now；　and　dance　before　his　King。　He　watched　young　Ella　Mae　Washington；　the　seventeen…year…old　granddaughter　of　Praying　Mother　Washington；　as　she　began　to　dance。　And　then　Elishadanced。
　　At　one　moment；　head　thrown　back；　eyes　closed；　sweat　standing　on　his　brow；　he　sat　at　thepiano；　singing　and　playing；　and　then；　like　a　great　black　cat　in　trouble　in　the　jungle；　he　stiffened　andtrembled；　and　cried　out。　Jesus；　Jesus；　oh　Lord　Jesus！　He　struck　on　the　piano　one　last　wild　note；　andthrew　up　his　hands；　palms　upward；　stretched　wide　apart。　The　tambourines　raced　to　fill　the　vacuumleft　by　his　silent　piano；　and　his　cry　drew　answering　cries。　Then　he　was　on　his　feet；　turning；　blind；his　face　congested；　contorted　with　this　rage；　and　the　muscles　leaping　ands　swelling　in　his　long；dark　neck。　It　seemed　that　he　could　not　breathe；　that　his　body　could　not　contain　this　passion；　that　hewould　be；　before　their　eyes；　dispersed　into　the　waiting　air。　His　hand；　rigid　to　the　very　fingertips；moved　outward　and　back　against　his　hips；　his　sightless　eyes　looked　upward；　and　he　b