Saturday noon I went to the well and looked on a while. Merlin was still burning smoke-powders, and pawing the air, and muttering gibberish as hard as ever, but looking pretty down-hearted, for of course he had not started even a perspiration in that well yet. Finally I said:
“How does the thing promise by this time, partner?”
“Behold, I am even now busied with trial of the powerfulest enchantment known to the princes of the occult arts in the lands of the East; an it fail me, naught can avail. Peace, until I finish.”
He raised a smoke this time that darkened all the region, and must have made matters uncomfortable for the hermits, for the wind was their way, and it rolled down over their dens in a dense and billowy fog. He poured out volumes of speech to match, and contorted his body and sawed the air with his hands in a most extraordinary way. At the end of twenty minutes he dropped down panting, and about exhausted. Now arrived the abbot and several hundred monks and nuns, and behind them a multitude of pilgrims and a couple of acres of foundlings, all drawn by the prodigious smoke, and all in a grand state of excitement. The abbot inquired anxiously for results. Merlin said:
“If any labor of mortal might break the spell that binds these waters, this which I have but just essayed had done it. It has failed; whereby I do now know that that which I had feared is a truth established; the sign of this failure is, that the most potent spirit known to the magicians of the East, and whose name none may utter and live, has laid his spell upon this well. The mortal does not breathe, nor ever will, who can penetrate the secret of that spell, and without that secret none can break it. The water will flow no more forever, good Father. I have done what man could. Suffer me to go.”
Of course this threw the abbot into a good deal of a consternation. He turned to me with the signs of it in his face, and said:
“Ye have heard him. Is it true?”
“Part of it is.”
“Not all, then, not all! What part is true?”
“That that spirit with the Russian name has put his spell upon the well.”
“God’s wounds, then are we ruined!”
“Possibly.”
“But not certainly? Ye mean, not certainly?”
“That is it.”
“Wherefore, ye also mean that when he saith none can break the spell—”
“Yes, when he says that, he says what isn’t necessarily true. There are conditions under which an effort to break it may have some chance—that is, some small, some trifling chance—of success.”
“The conditions—”
“Oh, they are nothing difficult. Only these: I want the well and the surroundings for the space of half a mile, entirely to myself from sunset to-day until I remove the ban—and nobody allowed to cross the ground but by my authority.”
“Are these all?”
“Yes.”
“And you have no fear to try?”
“Oh, none. One may fail, of course; and one may also succeed. One can try, and I am ready to chance it. I have my conditions?”
“These and all others ye may name. I will issue commandment to that effect.”
“Wait,” said Merlin, with an evil smile. “Ye wit that he that would break this spell must know that spirit’s name?”
“Yes, I know his name.”
“And wit you also that to know it skills not of itself, but ye must likewise pronounce it? Ha-ha! Knew ye that?”
“Yes, I knew that, too.”
“You had that knowledge! Art a fool? Are ye minded to utter that name and die?”
“Utter it? Why certainly. I would utter it if it was Welsh.”
“Ye are even a dead man, then; and I go to tell Arthur.”
“That’s all right. Take your gripsack and get along. The thing for you to do is to go home and work the weather, John W. Merlin.”
It was a home shot, and it made him wince; for he was the worst weather-failure in the kingdom. Whenever he ordered up the danger-signals along the coast there was a week’s dead calm, sure, and every time he prophesied fair weather it rained brickbats. But I kept him in the weather bureau right along, to undermine his reputation. However, that shot raised his bile, and instead of starting home to report my death, he said he would remain and enjoy it.
My two experts arrived in the evening, and pretty well fagged, for they had traveled double tides. They had pack-mules along, and had brought everything I needed—tools, pump, lead pipe, Greek fire, sheaves of big rockets, roman candles, colored fire sprays, electric apparatus, and a lot of sundries—everything necessary for the stateliest kind of a miracle. They got their supper and a nap, and about midnight we sallied out through a solitude so wholly vacant and complete that it quite overpassed the required conditions. We took possession of the well and its surroundings. My boys were experts in all sorts of things, from the stoning up of a well to the constructing of a mathematical instrument. An hour before sunrise we had that leak mended in ship-shape fashion, and the water began to rise. Then we stowed our fireworks in the chapel, locked up the place, and went home to bed.
Before the noon mass was over, we were at the well again; for there was a deal to do yet, and I was determined to spring the miracle before midnight, for business reasons: for whereas a miracle worked for the Church on a week-day is worth a good deal, it is worth six times as much if you get it in on a Sunday. In nine hours the water had risen to its customary level—that is to say, it was within twenty-three feet of the top. We put in a little iron pump, one of the first turned out by my works near the capital; we bored into a stone reservoir which stood against the outer wall of the well-chamber and inserted a section of lead pipe that was long enough to reach to the door of the chapel and project beyond the threshold, where the gushing water would be visible to the two hundred and fifty acres of people I was intending should be present on the flat plain in front of this little holy hillock at the proper time.
We knocked the head out of an empty hogshead and hoisted this hogshead to the flat roof of the chapel, where we clamped it down fast, poured in gunpowder till it lay loosely an inch deep on the bottom, then we stood up rockets in the hogshead as thick as they could loosely stand, all the different breeds of rockets there are; and they made a portly and imposing sheaf, I can tell you. We grounded the wire of a pocket electrical battery in that powder, we placed a whole magazine of Greek fire on each corner of the roof—blue on one corner, green on another, red on another, and purple on the last—and grounded a wire in each.
About two hundred yards off, in the flat, we built a pen of scantlings, about four feet high, and laid planks on it, and so made a platform. We covered it with swell tapestries borrowed for the occasion, and topped it off with the abbot’s own throne. When you are going to do a miracle for an ignorant race, you want to get in every detail that will count; you want to make all the properties impressive to the public eye; you want to make matters comfortable for your head guest; then you can turn yourself loose and play your effects for all they are worth. I know the value of these things, for I know human nature. You can’t throw too much style into a miracle. It costs trouble, and work, and sometimes money; but it pays in the end. Well, we brought the wires to the ground at the chapel, and then brought them under the ground to the platform, and hid the batteries there. We put a rope fence a hundred feet square around the platform to keep off the common multitude, and that finished the work. My idea was, doors open at 10:30, performance to begin at 11:25 sharp. I wished I could charge admission, but of course that wouldn’t answer. I instructed my boys to be in the chapel as early as 10, before anybody was around, and be ready to man the pumps at the proper time, and make the fur fly. Then we went home to supper.
The news of the disaster to the well had traveled far by this time; and now for two or three days a steady avalanche of people had been pouring into the valley. The lower end of the valley was become one huge camp; we should have a good house, no question about that. Criers went the rounds early in the evening and announced the coming attempt, which put every pulse up to fever heat. They gave notice that the abbot and his official suite would move in state and occupy the platform at 10:30, up to which time all the region which was under my ban must be clear; the bells would then cease from tolling, and this sign should be permission to the multitudes to close in and take their places.
I was at the platform and all ready to do the honors when the abbot’s solemn procession hove in sight—which it did not do till it was nearly to the rope fence, because it was a starless black night and no torches permitted. With it came Merlin, and took a front seat on the platform; he was as good as his word for once. One could not see the multitudes banked together beyond the ban, but they were there, just the same. The moment the bells stopped, those banked masses broke and poured over the line like a vast black wave, and for as much as a half hour it continued to flow, and then it solidified itself, and you could have walked upon a pavement of human heads to—well, miles.
We had a solemn stage-wait, now, for about twenty minutes—a thing I had counted on for effect; it is always good to let your audience have a chance to work up its expectancy. At length, out of the silence a noble Latin chant—men’s voices—broke and swelled up and rolled away into the night, a majestic tide of melody. I had put that up, too, and it was one of the best effects I ever invented. When it was finished I stood up on the platform and extended my hands abroad, for two minutes, with my face uplifted—that always produces a dead hush—and then slowly pronounced this ghastly word with a kind of awfulness which caused hundreds to tremble, and many women to faint:
“Constantinopolitanischerdudelsackspfeifenmachersgesellschafft!”
Just as I was moaning out the closing hunks of that word, I touched off one of my electric connections and all that murky world of people stood revealed in a hideous blue glare! It was immense —that effect! Lots of people shrieked, women curled up and quit in every direction, foundlings collapsed by platoons. The abbot and the monks crossed themselves nimbly and their lips fluttered with agitated prayers. Merlin held his grip, but he was astonished clear down to his corns; he had never seen anything to begin with that, before. Now was the time to pile in the effects. I lifted my hands and groaned out this word—as it were in agony:
“Nihilistendynamittheaterkaestchenssprengungsattentaetsversuchungen!”
—and turned on the red fire! You should have heard that Atlantic of people moan and howl when that crimson hell joined the blue! After sixty seconds I shouted:
“Transvaaltruppentropentransporttrampelthiertreibertrauungsthraenen- tragoedie!”
—and lit up the green fire! After waiting only forty seconds this time, I spread my arms abroad and thundered out the devastating syllables of this word of words:
“Mekkamuselmannenmassenmenchenmoerdermohrenmuttermarmormonumentenmacher!”
—and whirled on the purple glare! There they were, all going at once, red, blue, green, purple!—four furious volcanoes pouring vast clouds of radiant smoke aloft, and spreading a blinding rainbowed noonday to the furthest confines of that valley. In the distance one could see that fellow on the pillar standing rigid against the background of sky, his seesaw stopped for the first time in twenty years. I knew the boys were at the pump now and ready. So I said to the abbot:
“The time is come, Father. I am about to pronounce the dread name and command the spell to dissolve. You want to brace up, and take hold of something.” Then I shouted to the people: “Behold, in another minute the spell will be broken, or no mortal can break it. If it break, all will know it, for you will see the sacred water gush from the chapel door!”
I stood a few moments, to let the hearers have a chance to spread my announcement to those who couldn’t hear, and so convey it to the furthest ranks, then I made a grand exhibition of extra posturing and gesturing, and shouted:
“Lo, I command the fell spirit that possesses the holy fountain to now disgorge into the skies all the infernal fires that still remain in him, and straightway dissolve his spell and flee hence to the pit, there to lie bound a thousand years. By his own dread name I command it—BGWJJILLIGKKK!”
Then I touched off the hogshead of rockets, and a vast fountain of dazzling lances of fire vomited itself toward the zenith with a hissing rush, and burst in mid-sky into a storm of flashing jewels! One mighty groan of terror started up from the massed people —then suddenly broke into a wild hosannah of joy—for there, fair and plain in the uncanny glare, they saw the freed water leaping forth! The old abbot could not speak a word, for tears and the chokings in his throat; without utterance of any sort, he folded me in his arms and mashed me. It was more eloquent than speech. And harder to get over, too, in a country where there were really no doctors that were worth a damaged nickel.
You should have seen those acres of people throw themselves down in that water and kiss it; kiss it, and pet it, and fondle it, and talk to it as if it were alive, and welcome it back with the dear names they gave their darlings, just as if it had been a friend who was long gone away and lost, and was come home again. Yes, it was pretty to see, and made me think more of them than I had done before.
I sent Merlin home on a shutter. He had caved in and gone down like a landslide when I pronounced that fearful name, and had never come to since. He never had heard that name before,—neither had I—but to him it was the right one. Any jumble would have been the right one. He admitted, afterward, that that spirit’s own mother could not have pronounced that name better than I did. He never could understand how I survived it, and I didn’t tell him. It is only young magicians that give away a secret like that. Merlin spent three months working enchantments to try to find out the deep trick of how to pronounce that name and outlive it. But he didn’t arrive.
When I started to the chapel, the populace uncovered and fell back reverently to make a wide way for me, as if I had been some kind of a superior being—and I was. I was aware of that. I took along a night shift of monks, and taught them the mystery of the pump, and set them to work, for it was plain that a good part of the people out there were going to sit up with the water all night, consequently it was but right that they should have all they wanted of it. To those monks that pump was a good deal of a miracle itself, and they were full of wonder over it; and of admiration, too, of the exceeding effectiveness of its performance.
It was a great night, an immense night. There was reputation in it. I could hardly get to sleep for glorying over it.
背景介绍和作者介绍
这个故事是马克·吐温的《水魔法师》的节选，马克·吐温是美国最受赞誉的作家之一，以其机智、幽默和对社会的敏锐观察而闻名。吐温的真名是塞缪尔·克莱门斯，生活在19世纪，以《汤姆·索亚历险记》和《哈克贝利·费恩历险记》等经典作品而闻名。他的故事经常将幽默与尖锐的社会批判相结合，并以生动、令人难忘的方式探索人性。
在《水魔法师》中，吐温融合了幻想、讽刺和冒险的元素，讲述了一个关于魔法、信仰和人类创造力的故事。故事围绕着一口被强大的精灵诅咒的神秘井展开，导致水无法流动。叙述者和他的同伴们进行了一场大胆而戏剧性的努力，以打破魔咒并恢复水源，他们使用了科学、表演和勇气的结合。
详细解读和意义
从本质上讲，这个故事探讨了信仰、怀疑和人类创造力的主题。这口井象征着一个看似无法克服的问题或挑战，受到迷信和恐惧的束缚。梅林，这位魔术师，代表着传统的魔法和旧的信仰，最终未能解决这个问题。相比之下，叙述者使用现代工具、技术和巧妙的舞台设计来创造一个“奇迹”，为社区恢复希望和生机。
吐温巧妙地批判了对迷信的盲目信仰和对奇观的诱惑，同时也赞扬了人类的决心和创新。戏剧性的烟花、吟唱的人群和精心设计的场景都突出了人们如何被奇迹和神秘所吸引，但真正的“魔法”在于知识和努力。
给学生的教训和见解
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批判性思维和创新： 叙述者的成功并非来自魔法，而是来自运用知识、计划和技术。学生可以学习批判性思维和创造力在解决问题中的价值，而不是依赖迷信或放弃。
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挑战现状的勇气： 故事鼓励质疑被接受的信仰，并有勇气尝试新方法，即使其他人怀疑你。
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呈现的力量： 叙述者了解人性，并利用表演来激励和团结人们。这教会了沟通技巧的重要性以及呈现如何影响他人。
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团队合作和准备： 叙述者的成功取决于一支专家团队和周密的准备，突出了合作和计划的重要性。
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尊重他人的信仰： 虽然故事批判了迷信，但它也表现出对人们的希望和恐惧的同情，提醒学生在提倡理性的同时尊重不同的观点。
在日常生活中应用故事的精神
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在学习中： 以好奇心和乐于尝试的态度迎接挑战。积极运用知识，不要害怕失败；这是发现的一部分。
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在社交场合中： 了解言语和行动的力量。像叙述者精心设计的场景一样，学生可以学会清晰地表达自己并积极地激励他人。
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在个人成长中： 接受新想法，并准备好质疑旧的假设。培养韧性和创造力以克服障碍。
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在团队合作中： 重视他人的优势，并共同努力实现共同目标。准备和合作往往会带来成功。
从故事中培养积极的品质
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创造力： 鼓励解决问题的能力和创造性思维。
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自信： 相信自己能够有所作为，即使面对怀疑。
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同情心： 认识到他人的感受和信仰，在尊重与理性之间取得平衡。
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领导力： 学会通过榜样和有效的沟通来激励和引导他人。
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毅力： 了解成功往往需要耐心、努力和坚持。
结论
马克·吐温的《水魔法师》不仅仅是一个关于魔法和奇迹的故事；它是一个关于人类精神、智慧以及理性和勇气战胜恐惧和迷信的故事。对于学生和年轻读者来说，它提供了关于如何面对挑战、批判性思考和激励他人的丰富教训。通过拥抱故事的积极价值观，年轻人可以成长为有思想、有创造力和富有同情心的个体，准备好在世界上创造属于他们自己的魔法。
