第 13 节
作者:青词      更新:2021-08-14 15:19      字数:9320
  visitor;   remembering   how   quick   the   society   of   London   is   to   welcome   a
  new celebrity or original character; how a place is at once made for him at
  every hospitable board; a permanent one to which he is expected to return;
  and   how   no   Continental   entertainment   is   considered   complete   without
  some bright particular star to shine in the firmament。
  〃Lion…hunting;〃 I hear my reader say with a sneer。 That may be; but it
  makes   society   worth   the   candle;   which   it   rarely   is   over   here。   I   realized
  what   I   had   often   vaguely  felt   before; that   the   Bohemia   the   English   lady
  was looking for was not to be found in this country; more's the pity。 Not
  that the elements are lacking。 Far from it; (for even more than in London
  should     we   be   able   to  combine     such    a  society);   but   perhaps    from    a
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  misconception of the true   idea of   such a   society; due   probably to   Henry
  Murger's      dreary    book    SCENES        DE    LA   VIE    DE    BOHEME         which     is
  chargeable with the  fact   that   a circle of   this   kind   evokes in the  mind   of
  most      Americans       visions    of   a   scrubby;     poorly…fed      and    less…washed
  community; a world they would hardly dare ask to their tables for fear of
  some embarrassing unconventionality of conduct or dress。
  Yet that can hardly be the reason; for even in Murger or Paul de Kock;
  at their worst; the hero is still a gentleman; and even when he borrows a
  friend's coat; it is to go to a great house and among people of rank。 Besides;
  we are   becoming too   cosmopolitan; and   wander too   constantly over this
  little globe; not to have learned that the Bohemia of 1830 is as completely
  a thing of the past as a GRISETTE or a glyphisodon。 It disappeared with
  Gavarni and the authors who described it。 Although we have kept the word;
  its   meaning   has gradually  changed until it has   come   to   mean   something
  difficult to define; a will…o'…the…wisp; which one tries vainly to grasp。 With
  each   decade   it   has   put   on   a   new   form   and   changed   its   centre;   the   one
  definite   fact   being   that   it   combines   the   better   elements   of   several   social
  layers。
  Drop in; if   you   are   in   Paris   and   know  the   way;   at   one   of   Madeleine
  Lemaire's informal evenings in her studio。 There you may find the Prince
  de Ligne; chatting with Rejane or Coquelin; or Henri d'Orleans; just back
  from   an   expedition   into   Africa。   A   little   further   on;   Saint…Saens   will   be
  running over the keys; preparing an accompaniment for one of Madame de
  Tredern's songs。 The Princess Mathilde (that passionate lover of art) will
  surely be there; and … but it is needless to particularize。
  Cross   the   Channel;   and   get   yourself   asked   to   one   of   Irving's   choice
  suppers   after   the   play。   You   will   find   the   bar;   the   stage;   and   the   pulpit
  represented there; a 〃happy family〃 over which the 〃Prince〃 often presides;
  smoking cigar after cigar; until the tardy London daylight appears to break
  up the entertainment。
  For both are centres where the gifted and the travelled meet the great
  of   the   social   world;   on   a   footing   of   perfect   equality;   and   where;   if   any
  prestige is accorded; it is that of brains。 When you have seen these places
  and a dozen others like them; you will realize what the actor's wife had in
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  her mind。
  Now; let me whisper to you why I think such circles do not exist in
  this country。 In the first place; we are still too provincial in this big city of
  ours。    New     York    always    reminds     me    of  a  definition    I  once    heard    of
  California fruit: 〃Very large; with no particular flavor。〃 We are like a boy;
  who has had the misfortune to grow too quickly and look like a man; but
  whose mind has not kept pace with his body。 What he knows is undigested
  and chaotic; while his appearance makes you expect more of him than he
  can give … hence disappointment。
  Our   society   is   yet   in   knickerbockers;   and   has   retained   all   sorts   of
  littlenesses     and    prejudices     which    older    civilizations    have    long    since
  relegated to the mental lumber room。 An equivalent to this point of view
  you will find in England or France only in the smaller 〃cathedral〃 cities;
  and even there the old aristocrats have the courage of their opinions。 Here;
  where  everything   is   quite  frankly  on   a   money  basis;   and 〃positions〃   are
  made and lost like a fortune; by a turn of the market; those qualities which
  are   purely   mental;   and   on   which   it   is   hard   to   put   a   practical   value;   are
  naturally at a discount。 We are quite ready to pay for the best。 Witness our
  private   galleries   and   the   opera;   but   we   say;   like   the   parvenu   in   Emile
  Augier's delightful comedy LE GENDRE DE M。 POIRIER; 〃Patronize art?
  Of   course!   But   the   artists?   Never!〃 And   frankly;   it   would   be   too   much;
  would it not; to expect a family only half a generation away from an iron
  foundry; or a mine; to be willing to receive Irving or Bernhardt on terms of
  perfect equality?
  As it would be unjust to demand a mature mind in the overgrown boy;
  it is useless to hope for delicate tact and social feeling from the parvenu。
  To be gracious and at ease with all classes and professions; one must be
  perfectly sure of one's own position; and with us few feel this security; it
  being based on too frail a foundation; a crisis in the 〃street〃 going a long
  way towards destroying it。
  Of   course   I   am   generalizing   and   doubt   not   that   in   many   cultivated
  homes   the   right   spirit   exists;   but   unfortunately   these   are   not   the   centres
  which   give   the   tone   to   our   〃world。〃   Lately   at   one   of   the   most   splendid
  houses in this city a young Italian tenor had been engaged to sing。 When
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  he had finished he stood alone; unnoticed; unspoken to for the rest of the
  evening。 He had been paid to sing。 〃What more; in common sense; could
  he want?〃 thought the 〃world;〃 without reflecting that it was probably not
  the TENOR who lost by that arrangement。 It needs a delicate hand to hold
  the reins over the backs of such a fine…mouthed community as artists and
  singers form。 They rarely give their best when singing or performing in a
  hostile atmosphere。
  A few years ago when a fancy…dress ball was given at the Academy of
  Design; the original idea was to have it an artists' ball; the community of
  the   brush   were;   however;   approached   with   such   a   complete   lack   of   tact
  that;   with   hardly   an   exception;   they   held   aloof;   and   at   the   ball   shone
  conspicuous by their absence。
  At present in this city I know of but two hospitable firesides where you
  are sure to meet the best the city holds of either foreign or native talent。
  The one is presided over by the wife of a young composer; and the other;
  oddly   enough;   by   two   unmarried   ladies。   An   invitation   to   a   dinner   or   a
  supper  at   either  of   these  houses   is   as   eagerly  sought   after  and   as   highly
  prized in the great world as it is by the Bohemians; though neither 〃salon〃
  is open regularly。
  There   is   still   hope   for   us;   and   I   already   see   signs   of   better   things。
  Perhaps; when my English friend returns in a few years; we may be able to
  prove to her that we have found the road to Prague。
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  CHAPTER 11 … Social Exiles
  BALZAC;        in  his   COMEDIE         HUMAINE;         has   reviewed     with   a
  master…hand almost every phase of the Social World of Paris down to 1850
  and Thackeray left hardly a corner of London High Life unexplored; but
  so great have been the changes (progress; its admirers call it;) since then;
  that;   could   Balzac   come   back   to   his beloved   Paris;   he   would   feel   like   a
  foreigner there; and Thackeray; who was among us but yesterday; would
  have difficulty in finding his bearings in the sea of the London world to…
  day。
  We have changed so radically that even a casual observer cannot help
  being      struck