What Corrupted Hadleyburg (por Gil Sousa)

John Hadleyburg was by all accounts a good man.

Everything you’d see when you looked at him would bring you back to that statement. Try it. See the way he teaches both his kids to ride a bike, one hand in each shoulder, encouraging always. See the way he kisses his wife at night, it makes you wonder why don’t married couples kiss more often. Greeting the janitor at his office, you can see they’ve known each other for years. He asks about the man’s son, who’s in college far away. He’s doing fine, apparently. And look, look here, once on the bus he saw a man approach a younger girl, she couldn’t have been older than twenty, and he confronted the guy. Have you ever witnessed that? Someone confronting someone who’s approached you? Yeah. Me neither. But look, John Hadleyburg did.

When he was a kid himself, John played football like you played football (he never really enjoyed it, I mean), he had friends like the friends you had, he played with his sister’s dolls, sometimes to spite her, others because they were still toys, and fun ones at that. He’d been a great kid, like you were a great kid, until he turned 10, or 11, or 12, or God knows what age. The same age you were when you started becoming who you are now.

And so you have seen John Hadleyburg, seen his life and his actions, seen his wife and children, seen him being a bus hero for a 30-second stretch, seen him playing with dolls.

What do you know of him?

If you wanted to know more about John Hadleyburg, I think I could tell you more. Show you more, even. Look: John has been married these past 13 years, and in that period he’s only had two affairs, Susan and Julie, both coworkers of his. And even those were some time ago. Things have been pretty well between his wife and him, but then again she never knew. Did you know John has three children? He doesn’t know about the other one, Liam, his first. The mother is this college girlfriend he never really liked. After they broke up, weeks after, I mean, she tried to call him, talk to him. He never answered the phone. And she stopped trying a short time after. And there was this bad period in his life, this dark if short bit, when he thinks he half-remembers some unpleasantness with this girl at a party, something he’d done, but also something he didn’t really like to think about and so tried not to. It was a long time ago, really.

And so you have known John Hadleyburg, known of his petty sins and moments of weakness, known of the times he’d rather move on, known of those unpleasant things he really doesn’t like to think about.

What do you think of him?

Say, say, hah, if this John was an apple, and I mean your favorite kind of apple, an apple whose juiciness you can guess just by looking at it, if John was an apple, I was saying, how rotten do you think he’d be?

Completely? A monster inside and out, made more of flies than of actual fruit? That would be unfair, I think. And so would you, if you’d paid any attention at all to the way he’s teaching those kids how to ride their bikes. Nothing completely rotten would do it the way he does, persist like he does, two weeks gone by already since the bikes were bought.

So maybe he’s the apple you look at, lying alone on a plate, and that you pick up, hungry as you are, but end up not biting, because look: it’s all rotten on the underside. And let me tell you, maybe he is that one, I can’t see why not. Shiny pretty thing, greenishly reflecting the glorious sunlight. But. I see a but. I look at John, y’see, and I can’t help but think that he’s an apple that you’d definitely, definitely, bite. So how rotten can he be, yes? Only if all that brown rot was within the apple, hidden beneath layers of sweet juice suddenly turned bitter. Can an apple rot like that, from the inside out? I suspect not, but I know little about apples.

And still we don’t know exactly what he is, even after this dumb exercise with the fruit. He just feels so unclean, right? After you’ve known his history, it’s like you wish he’d just be gone without much unpleasantness, just be gone so you can forget about him.

But don’t forget what I told you, right at the beginning, the only thing you really know about him: John Hadleyburg is a good man. Repeat it. Again. Like he does, from time to time. And he does it because he knows, deep down he knows, that he has never done anything wrong; anything really wrong.

I think… I think it’s just the way things start to get lopsided after a while, that’s all. You’re young, we’re all young since we’re all alive, so we may not be fully aware of this fact, but the world, the universe, after a while it just seems a bit… crooked. The things you tell yourself change, they stop being promises and they become excuses. You allow for one excuse, once. And it was one too many.

If you were an apple, your favorite kind of apple, I mean, how rotten would you be?

Well. Well, you came here for one thing, yes? What Corrupted Hadleyburg, good man that he was, he is, and nonetheless corrupted, that’s what you want to know. You have to know, I don’t have a good answer. I don’t. I look at this that I’ve told you, that I’ve read, I look at it and I still don’t have a better answer than this, which isn’t a good answer at all:

What corrupted John Hadleyburg was life.

I’m sorry.

Análise de "The Man That Corrupted Hadleyburg" (por Verónica e Joana)

“The Man that Corrupted Hadleyburg” é um conto que foca a destruição da imagem honesta de uma comunidade. Hadleyburg, onde se desenrola a acção, é uma pequena cidade ficcional, situada algures na América no final do século XIX, conhecida pela sua respeitabilidade e honestidade. Quando, um dia, um estranho passa pela cidade e é maltratado por um dos cidadão, essa ofensa leva-o a desejar vingar-se e montar uma armadilha a toda a cidade para destruir a sua reputação. Através do seu esquema, Stephenson, o forasteiro, alicia os cidadãos mais respeitáveis a reclamar um saco com ouro que não lhes pertence, fazendo-os mentir e enganar a todos para o conseguir.

O próprio título sugere que a cidade vivia sobre alicerces morais que foram destruídos por um estranho. No entanto, o narrador afirma logo no início que Handleyburg era uma cidade vaidosa e moralista na sua auto-proclamada honestidade o que enfatiza a fragilidade dessa incorruptibilidade.

O autor apresenta-nos uma comunidade cristã que procura a todo o custo passar uma determinada imagem, firmada em fortes princípios, mas, que acaba por cair na armadilha expondo uma ambição desmedida. O facto de a comunidade ser cristã é importante para percebermos o paradoxo que o autor usa ao focar os princípios humanos como instáveis. Com este exemplo, Twain poderá querer mostrar como as pessoas esquecem facilmente as suas convicções devido à natureza humana, que é enganadora. A ideia de que o mal está no interior do homem sendo, por isso, difícil libertar-se dele já tinha sido abordada no conto, Young Goodman Brown através do qual, Hawthorne satirizou a comunidade puritana de Salém.

É mediante os comportamentos e pensamentos dos cidadãos, particularmente dos Richards, que o autor aborda os temas da corrupção, a vingança, redenção e simulação da verdade. Os Richards, assim como os outros habitantes, começam com boas intenções; porém, o seu comportamento vem a reflectir o oposto. Mary Richards revela não confiar em si mesma nem na cidade, e repete como uma oração, “não me deixais cair em tentação” ao mesmo tempo que prevê a tragédia que cairá sobre Hadleyburg: “ I do believe that if ever the day cames that its honesty falls under great temptation, its grand reputation will go to ruin like a house of cards.”. No fundo, o entendimento que ela possui da “honestidade artificial” da cidade, não impede nem o seu declínio moral nem o do marido.

Os Richards são preconceituosos e têm uma atitude conflituosa em relação a Burgess que os procurou ajudar. Inicialmente, alegram-se quando ele salva a sua reputação na assembleia, mas, mais tarde, tornam-se desconfiados e interpretam maldosamente as suas intenções. Por outro lado, o conflito entre a ambição e o desejo de serem fiéis aos seus princípios causa-lhes tal culpa que entram num estado de delírio e acabam por sucumbir.

À semelhança de outras obras de Twain, a narrativa é pontuada com elementos humorísticos que acentuam o carácter irónico do conto: por exemplo, Edward Richards tenta lembrar-se de uma boa acção que fez a Goodson, considerando que talvez o tenha salvo de morrer afogado, contudo, lembra-se que não sabe nadar; na assembleia todos os respeitáveis cidadãos tinham um discurso preparado para agradecer quando lhes entregassem o dinheiro; a antiga canção do Mikado é uma sátira à virtude do homem. Os próprios nomes dos cidadãos não foram escolhidos aleatoriamente, praticamente todos possuem um significado. Goodson (bom filho), Jack Halliday (dia santo), Stephenson (alusão ao primeiro mártir) e os dos cidadãos mais respeitáveis representam termos que destacam o seu cariz intolerante e implacável -  Wilder (caçador), Pinkerton (duro e persistente), Inglsby Sargent (sargento obstinado).

A figura do falecido Goodson é importante na história visto que simboliza a verdadeira honestidade. Enquanto vivo, marcou Hadleyburg por uma conduta generosa e, ganhou a antipatia da cidade pelas críticas que lhe dirigia, considerando-a “avarenta, limitada e moralista”. Outra figura que confere um grau satírico à história é Jack Halliday,” o brincalhão da cidade. Halliday, irreverente e amigo de todos, era um observador exímio, apercebia-se das alterações de humor que sofriam os seus habitantes e aproveitava para os ridicularizar com frequência.

A mensagem desta história é intemporal e pode ser aplicada a toda a cidade ou nação, uma vez que as nações pretendem defender uma imagem de rectidão de carácter a defender. Tal como Hadleyburg, qualquer comunidade está sujeita a ser corrompida pelo lado financeiro da sociedade. Muitas vezes, as boas intenções do homem desmoronam-se perante a tentação do dinheiro e do poder. Apesar de transmitir inicialmente uma visão um pouco pessimista em relação aos defeitos e virtudes do homem, Twain sugere possuir ainda alguma fé na humanidade. Por fim, os cidadãos demonstraram que entenderam a lição dada e escolheram o melhor caminho. A mudança do lema da cidade prova que o homem possui a capacidade de mudar, e de se redimir.

Mark Twain - Jumping Frog (Catherine e Joel)

Mark Twain era o pseudónimo usado por Samuel Langhorne Clemens enquanto escritor de sketches humorísticos. “Mark twain” é a profundidade de água mínima para um barco a vapor navegar e, na caneta de Samuel Clemens, era a voz satírica do pretensiosismo aristocrata.

Assim, em 18 de Novembro de 1865, “Jim Smiley and His Jumping Frog”, o conto que chamou a atenção do público para Twain e um dos contos mais populares da sua carreira, foi publicado num jornal nova-iorquino, o New York Saturday Press.

“Jumping Frog” é um exemplo de tall tale, um conto em moldura (frame story) tradicional no sudoeste americano, em que uma história é relatada dentro de outra. Neste conto, usa-se a ficção para criticar ou descrever situações não-ficcionais contemporâneas, distinguindo-se ao nível estilístico pelo discurso vernacular. Este tipo de narrativa oferece profundidade à história através da multiplicidade de ouvintes e narradores. No entanto, é a combinação deste tipo de narração com deadpan humor – “To me, the spectacle of a man drifting serenely along through such a queer yarn without ever smiling was exquisitely absurd” – que permite a diversidade de leituras deste conto. Inicialmente, pode parecer confuso ou insignificante, mas o contraste entre Este e Oeste, criado através da voz dos narradores, e os possíveis paralelos entre ficção e não-ficção são apenas parte do seu interesse.

Em “Jumping Frog”, Twain é o narrador do Este americano que, com um registo discursivo elevado, simboliza os Easterners civilizados, denunciando em diversos instantes a opinião estereotipada que estes tinham dos Westerners, ao descrever Wheeler, o outro narrador, como “fat and bald-headed”, habitante de uma povoação mineira decadente, preguiçoso, “dozing comfortably by the barroom stove of the little old dilapidated tavern (…).”

É a narrativa de Wheeler, o Westerner simplório, que se sobrepõe nesta história à narrativa do Easterner educado (que se aborrece e não consegue captar o humor do relato de Wheeler por se sentir superior a ele), ganhando a atenção do leitor através do discurso vernacular exagerado que dá ao relato o seu tom humorístico. A busca de Leonidas W. Smiley – que, sendo reverendo, também tem educação e proeminência social – perde toda a importância, e o interesse do leitor passa a ser dirigido a Jim Smiley, um gambler com uma sorte invulgar, capaz das apostas mais absurdas. O narrador vai tão longe ao ponto de pensar que Leonidas W. Smiley é de facto um mito, e que Ward lhe terá pregado uma partida, uma vez que nunca falaria com alguém como Wheeler se soubesse o que iria suceder.

A caracterização de membros da sociedade que normalmente seriam desprezados viria a ser desenvolvida por diversos outros autores, dentro dos quais podemos referir Charles Dickens, na Inglaterra do século XIX, ou Herman Melville, entre tantos outros. Twain deixaria um legado igualmente importante, na caracterização natural e realista de locais, de pessoas e da língua

Para que o leitor captasse a pronúncia local, Twain transformou o inglês padrão, reforçando a oralidade de cada personagem (de lembrar que Twain teve contacto directo com falantes que viviam nas margens do rio Mississippi). Como exemplos, referimos “feller” em vez de “fellow”; o uso de “curiosest”, declinação errada do adjectivo “curious”, que no contexto da frase deveria ser “the most curious man”; a repetição da expressão “he’d bet on it” e “he would bet you”, assim como a enumeração nas diversas apostas – “dog-fight”, “cat-fight”, “chicken-fight”, para ilustrar a tendência excessiva de Smiley para o jogo; a dupla negação “never made no difference to him”, que, embora seja redundante, reforça a ideia; “warn’t going”, ao invés de “wasn’t/was not going”; a conjugação errada do verbo “to come” no passado (“he come in” é preferido a “he came in”); “inf’nit”, em que o falante ignora a existência da vogal ; a escolha do verbo “to say”, conjugado no presente do indicativo (“says”), para introduzir diálogo, contrastando com o pretérito perfeito usado ao longo da narração; a palavra “more” soletrada como “m-o-r-e”, que parece indicar uma leitura com maior enfase, tal como em palavras em itálico que vão surgindo.

Uma das histórias acerca de Jim Smiley envolve um pequeno bulldog, chamado Andrew Jackson, no qual ele apostava em lutas de cães. Como o cão era pequeno, todos apostavam contra ele, mas o cão resistia a todos os ataques e, no final, atacava os rivais, ferrando os dentes nas suas patas traseiras e aguentando-se dessa forma até ao final da luta, vencendo as apostas através de tenacidade. Andrew Jackson também é o nome do sétimo presidente dos EUA e o primeiro Westerner a ganhar as eleições, governando de 1829 a 1937. Embora tenha lutado pelo direito ao voto em todos os estados do Oeste e contra a aristocracia (na sua perspectiva) anti-democrática do Este, conquistando o cidadão comum, Jackson era um slaveholder, apoiando a escravatura e levando à expulsão dos Índios americanos dos seus territórios para Oklahoma. 

A história seguinte, e a que dá o título a este conto, é a de um sapo chamado Dan’l Webster. Na perspectiva de Smiley, “all a frog wanted was education” Daniel Webster é também o nome de um senador de Massachusetts. À semelhança  do senador, reconhecido como um dos maiores de sempre, cujos discursos fizeram parte da educação americana como exemplos de grande oratória, Wheeler descreve Dan’l Webster como um sapo “so modest and straightfor’ard (…), for all he was so gifted.” No entanto, ao chegar um estranho à povoação, este não vê no sapo nada que o distinga dos sapos comuns e, enganando Jim Smiley, enche a boca de Dan’l Webster com chumbo para que não salte, vencendo assim a aposta com um sapo vulgar.

Revela-se neste episódio algo curioso que distingue Smiley da figura do estranho. Enquanto o estranho optou por fazer batota (talvez por não ter senão outra opção e por querer realmente o dinheiro), Smiley conjugava artimanhas para ganhar, mostrando um forte sentido de perseverança no treino dos seus animais.

Neste conto, encontramos muitas das características que marcaram a escrita de Mark Twain – o narrador sem sentido de humor, o discurso vernacular (que veio a influenciar toda a Literatura Americana e a aceitação das vozes não-padrão na literatura, libertando a prosa das restrições que caracterizavam a literatura elevada), a sátira política, a sátira à sociedade burguesa americana e o protesto socialmente aceitável (enaltecendo as características positivas e expondo as negativas) através da comédia.

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Jim Smiley and His One-Eyed Cow - por Catherine e Joel

“Now, thish-yer feller Smiley, had him a one-eyed cow that didn’t have no tail only just a short stump like a bannanner and this one time, he thought of makin’ some profit outta that.

Yer see, Smiley was come here to the tavern one night, and so much did he drink he only got half-way home. I reckon his feet could take ‘em no longer, so he lay himself in the fields and fell arsleep as soon as he lay on the ground. He was so sound arsleep, he tells me, he was dreamin’ he taken a swim, on account er feelin’ so wet and cold. But that won’t no water. As he opens his eyes he sees a big sloppy pink tongue lickin’ his face. It was a cow!

‘Darn cow’ says he ‘Get off me!’ and comin’ to his feet, stumblin’ a little, he takes a better look at the cow. It was a mighty fine animal, a nice white with brown patches. But it had a short stump fer a tail, and was missin’ its better eye.

So lookin’ about him and seein’ no one around, Smiley thinks o’ takin’ the cow with ‘em. But no more than two steps did he take, when a stone the size of an apple was thrown at his feet! It was a black boy! He was so surprise’ he fell on his arse, as the black kid come runnin’ to him. He says to Smiley ‘Whar is yer takin’ that cow?’

But the black kid won’t much steady on ‘is feet, he smelled like ‘ed been adrinkin’. So Smiley says: “Ah, what would I want this ‘ere cow anyways? It ain’t got no tail, and it can’t see right.”

“Shucks, it ain’t no use to talk to you, white man! You see wust than that cow. That cow is magic, mister! She answers things you dasn’t know, things to come and things to be. One ‘moo’ yes, two ‘moo’ no.”

Smiley’s eyes sparkled with money! He could go on to betting with this ‘ere cow, so he gave the little negro a bottle of liquor he ‘ad on him, and took the cow in exchange. The boy seemed glad and sad about the bottle, but took it anyhow, and last Smiley saw ‘em was sittin’ himself back down and takin’ a sip.

After that, Smiley tried the cow out, asked’er questions, and the cow mooed and mooed. So he walked around town with old Peggy Neill, as he’d baptized’er, and he mounted her as of she were a horse. So people called him cowboy Smiley, and laughed, but he laughed right back and took no notice.

One day, he was ‘ere in the tavern, and old Peggy Neill was outside, tryin’ to eat some cabbages from Miss Winkle’s stand, and in comes a little man. He was a short and hunched little guy from those British Indias of the Far East and was limpin’ pretty bad, but it seems that he had been a’limpin all his life. So he come in and says “There be a majestic one-eyed cow out there!” and he chuckled with delight. Smiley took his chance “That there be my cow. Mighty fine beast, don’t you reckon?”

“The finest goddess I’ve ever seen, Baba!”

“Makin’ fun of me, ain’t ya? I can tell yer that there cow has a gift. She can answer any question yer ask her. I wage you 50 dollars she does.”

“I see! Sacred cow, Baboo! The most pure deity, above the Brahmins themselves! The one eye she has must be a special one.”

“That’s the truth, little feller. Make fun of her, if yer wish, but I bet sixty dollars she’ll answer anythin’ yer ask her!”

“I bet she likes tandoori nan,” says the Indian man, leavin’ the tavern, runnin’ all excited with his little limpin’ legs, takin’ some dry pieces of bread from his satchel. As everybody went outside, we found the midget happily feedin’ Jim Smiley’s cow. That Indian, Aadam Aziz was his name, was delighted feedin’ old Peggy Neill with strange food: gurs, channa, chapatti... And then he tried to sell it to us, and everybody wanted to try that strange food old Peggy liked so much, mooin’ each time she wanted more. And, darn me, it was good, especially that chatni I bought from him. I still have some if yer want to give it a try.

In the middle of all this, was Smiley angered for not makin’ any bets, while the Indian midget kept sellin’ food, makin’ more money than ‘im, and paintin’ Peggy Neill with all kinds of colors and flowery drawings, tyin’ bells and red ribbons around her neck and arse, and Peggy Neill was all cheerful, shakin’ her butt to play the bells and mooin’ all day long, with the attentions of her new friend, followin’im everywhere.

“C’mon, Peggy,” called Smiley, tryin’ not to lose his temper, “it’s time to go, old gall. Come with me, now.” But the cow ignored him and walked closer to Aadam Aziz. “Peggy Neill! C’mon now, haughty madam! Playtime’s over!” Smiley kept sayin’, tryin’ to pull her by the ribbons on her neck.

“Arré baap!” yells Aadam Aziz, shocked when he notices what Smiley’s doin’ to the cow. “One must not order cow to obey. Cows must be free, especially such an old wise cow like this!”

“Peggy Neill is mine and I paid good booze for her! Stop spoilin’er, little man. If yer don’t wage any bet, let us go now.”

“You said she answers any question. Let her decide then. Ask her if she wants to stay or if she prefers to go!” Jim Smiley knew right then he’d been fooled by his own tongue, but the smart Indian was aware of Smiley’s weakness and said somethin’ Smiley’d never refuse: “I wage you 70 dollars she wants to stay, Baboo.”

Right away, Jim Smiley looked Peggy in the eye and asked ‘er softly “How’s it gonna be, Peggy Neill. Yer wanna stay, old gall?” And she mooed just once. He waited a while longer for another moo, which never came, and, without a word, Jim Smiley turned his back on her, paid his debt and walked away by himself. That was the last time I ever saw him, poor feller. That man was torn by grief.

Meanwhile, Aadam Aziz kept feedin’ Peggy Neill with dahi and delicious kasaundies we’d have to pay well for. Even nowadays, everybody remembers how good was Aadam Aziz’s bottled Djinn. I bought a dozen of those bottles myself and, Dear Lord, I sold’em all in one day. Peggy Neill was as enchanted by his oriental charms as anybody else, while he made a fortune for himself. One night, he said he dreamed of bein’ a crorepati, whatever that is, and he couldn’t stay much longer if he wanted to reach for that dream. I believe him. Nobody had much more money to keep payin’ for Aadam Aziz’s goodies. His business wouldn’t last much longer and he left that night, leavin’ old Peggy Neill arsleep.

The next morning, when she woke up, she was just a lonely old cow, left all by herself in the world. Slowly, the rain washed off the colorful paintings of her fur and she was just a poor one-eyed cow with a red ribbon and a rusty bell tied to her stump-tail. As long as she lived, we’d ask her if she wanted somethin’ to eat, but she always refused, mooin’ twice to each offer. One day she disappeared, and I guess it was that black boy who took the better, since all travelers would talk about a negro boy with a red ribbon tied to his neck, callin’ his clients with a bell, tradin’ jerky meat for booze.

“O, yes, I met that boy too, on my way to this minin’ camp.” I said, interrupting old Simon Wheeler, feeling my patience coming to an end. “Quite a cheeky drunken kid, I must say! What a sad life. Well, it’s time to go...”

“O, no! Not a sad life at all! You see, that negro boy isn’t such a boy anymore. He’s a grown man now and he ain’t a drinker no more.”

And so, he cornered me again, beginning another tale. However, it is not possible for me to recollect that last narrative, since I fell asleep by the stove, numbed by the tone of his voice telling me another endless story."