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Тази книга на Хариет Битчърд Стоу е преведена на Български не дълго след издаването и на руски някъде през 1850те години. Времената на Алехандър 2ри когато са се освобождаваля селяците в Русия, поставяло се е началото на Кримската война, Затвърждавали са се поне словесно реформите в Османската Империя и Българите след позора на Крим насочват вниманието си към Франция и Англо-Саксонците. Не се сещам къде съм го чел вече но един/една историк/чка твърдеше че Чичо Томовата Колиба разтърсва Българското общество. Смятам това е вярно до някъде за градското образовано население. Идеята е че в книгата се разглежда съдбата на роба. Макар Българина да не е бил роб по това време в буквалниа смисъл на думата и чрез танзимат реформите все повече да е придобивал равностоина позиция в Османското общество/с изключение на правото да се служи в турската армия...удушник з акоето някои намират в зводовете на Садък Паша/ те са постоянна жертва на саморазправата на башибузука/не-редовна армия...да го наречем турска милиция/. Като примерно Кримската война бележи забогатяването на търговците в градовете но башибузушката паплач като тръгва за Крим мак смуче кръвта на бългасраките селяни по пътя. От тогава и тази любов у Българина към емиграцията при всяко слизане на Русите до Свищов, Русе, Силистра 1700те, 1828, 1850те със тяхното изтегляне хиляди селяни напускат северна България със Руската армия за Бесарабия. В тази светлина влиза и книгата на Стоу в Българското общество. И понеже сега иа слушам /не я чета/ съм зашеметен от колко пуритански е езика е нея и понеже началния превод е правен преди 1944та година се чудя дали е тъй точно предаден. И дали изданията след 1949 не са осакатени от комунистическата цензура. Така че пращам текста които най силно ем ефектира и понеже го слушам на англииски така го и пращам понеже незнам къде има Бг. версия и дали е дословно преведен. Това е от 14та Глава Том патува на юг по Мисисипи отдалечаващ се от домът си вече придобил доверието на търговеца на роби и оставен на свобода на шлепа. Том прекарва времето си четейки Библията. Текста е направо бетон и съжалявам ако някои не разбира Англииски може да го потърсите в някоя руска интернет версия.
В отговор на:
When there seemed to be nothing for him to do, he would climb to a nook among the cotton-bales of the upper deck, and busy himself in studying over his Bible, - and it is there we see him now.
For a hundred or more miles above New Orleans, the river is higher than the surrounding country, and rolls its tremendous volume between massive levees twenty feet in height. The traveller from the deck of the steamer, as from some floating castle top, overlooks the whole country for miles and miles around. Tom, therefore, had spread out full before him, in plantation after plantation, a map of the life to which he was approaching.
He saw the distant slaves at their toil; he saw afar their villages of huts gleaming out in long rows on many a plantation, distant from the stately mansions and pleasure-grounds of the master; - and as the moving picture passed on, his poor, foolish heart would be turning backward to the Kentucky farm, with its old shadowy beeches, - to the master's house, with its wide, cool halls, and, near by, the little cabin overgrown with the multiflora and bignonia. There he seemed to see familiar faces of comrades who had grown up with him from infancy; he saw his busy wife, bustling in her preparations for his evening meals; he heard the merry laugh of his boys at their play, and the chirrup of the baby at his knee; and then, with a start, all faded, and he saw again the canebrakes and cypresses and gliding plantations, and heard again the creaking and groaning of the machinery, all telling him too plainly that all that phase of life had gone by forever.
In such a case, you write to your wife, and send messages to your children; but Tom could not write, - the mail for him had no existence, and the gulf of separation was unbridged by even a friendly word or signal.
Is it strange, then, that some tears fall on the pages of his Bible, as he lays it on the cotton-bale, and, with patient finger, threading his slow way from word to word, traces out its promises? Having learned late in life, Tom was but a slow reader, and passed on laboriously from verse to verse. Fortunate for him was it that the book he was intent on was one which slow reading cannot injure, - nay, one whose words, like ingots of gold, seem often to need to be weighed separately, that the mind may take in their priceless value. Let us follow him a moment, as, pointing to each word, and pronouncing each half aloud, he reads,
"Let - not - your - heart - be - troubled. In - my - Father's - house - are - many - mansions. I - go - to - prepare - a - place - for - you."
Cicero, when he buried his darling and only daughter, had a heart as full of honest grief as poor Tom's, - perhaps no fuller, for both were only men; - but Cicero could pause over no such sublime words of hope, and look to no such future reunion; and if he had seen them, ten to one he would not have believed, - he must fill his head first with a thousand questions of authenticity of manuscript, and correctness of translation. But, to poor Tom, there it lay, just what he needed, so evidently true and divine that the possibility of a question never entered his simple head. It must be true; for, if not true, how could he live?
As for Tom's Bible, though it had no annotations and helps in margin from learned commentators, still it had been embellished with certain way-marks and guide-boards of Tom's own invention, and which helped him more than the most learned expositions could have done. It had been his custom to get the Bible read to him by his master's children, in particular by young Master George; and, as they read, he would designate, by bold, strong marks and dashes, with pen and ink, the passages which more particularly gratified his ear or affected his heart. His Bible was thus marked through, from one end to the other, with a variety of styles and designations; so he could in a moment seize upon his favorite passages, without the labor of spelling out what lay between them; - and while it lay there before him, every passage breathing of some old home scene, and recalling some past enjoyment, his Bible seemed to him all of this life that remained, as well as the promise of a future one.
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Чичо Томовата Колиба
