第 24 节
作者:
冬儿 更新:2022-04-05 13:37 字数:9321
(which is where the philosophical societies flourish) there is always a drizzling rain and wet slop underfoot; a bedraggled poverty in the streets; and a dimness of lights that contrasts with the glare of light in an American town。 There is no visible sign in the town that a lecture is to happen; no placards; no advertisements; nothing。 The lecturer is conducted by a chairman through a side door in a dingy building (The Institute; established 1840); and then all of a sudden in a huge; dim hallthere sits the Philosophical Society。 There are a thousand of them; but they sit as quiet as a prayer meeting。 They are waiting to be fedon information。
Now I don't mean to say that the Philosophical Society are not a good audience。 In their own way they're all right。 Once the Philosophical Society has decided that a lecture is humorous they do not stint their laughter。 I have had many times the satisfaction of seeing a Philosophical Society swept away from its moorings and tossing in a sea of laughter; as generous and as whole…hearted as anything we ever see in America。
But they are not so willing to begin。 With us the chairman has only to say to the gaily dressed members of the Ladies' Fortnightly Club; 〃Well; ladies; I'm sure we are all looking forward very much to Mr。 Walpole's lecture;〃 and at once there is a ripple of applause; and a responsive expression on a hundred charming faces。
Not so the Philosophical Society of the Midlands。 The chairman rises。 He doesn't call for silence。 It is there; thick。 〃We have with us to…night;〃 he says; 〃a man whose name is well known to the Philosophical Society〃 (here he looks at his card); 〃Mr。 Stephen Leacock。〃 (Complete silence。) 〃He is a professor of political economy at〃 Here he turns to me and says; 〃Which college did you say?〃 I answer quite audibly in the silence; 〃At McGill。〃 〃He is at McGill;〃 says the chairman。 (More silence。) 〃I don't suppose; however; ladies and gentlemen; that he's come here to talk about political economy。〃 This is meant as a jest; but the audience takes it as a threat。 〃However; ladies and gentlemen; you haven't come here to listen to me〃 (this evokes applause; the first of the evening); 〃so without more ado〃 (the man always has the impression that there's been a lot of 〃ado;〃 but I never see any of it) 〃I'll now introduce Mr。 Leacock。〃 (Complete silence。)
Nothing of which means the least harm。 It only implies that the Philosophical Society are true philosophers in accepting nothing unproved。 They are like the man from Missouri。 They want to be shown。 And undoubtedly it takes a little time; therefore; to rouse them。 I remember listening with great interest to Sir Michael Sadler; who is possessed of a very neat wit; introducing me at Leeds。 He threw three jokes; one after the other; into the heart of a huge; silent audience without effect。 He might as well have thrown soap bubbles。 But the fourth joke broke fair and square like a bomb in the middle of the Philosophical Society and exploded them into convulsions。 The process is very like what artillery men tell of 〃bracketing〃 the object fired at; and then landing fairly on it。
In what I have just written about audiences I have purposely been using the word English and not British; for it does not in the least apply to the Scotch。 There is; for a humorous lecturer; no better audience in the world than a Scotch audience。 The old standing joke about the Scotch sense of humour is mere nonsense。 Yet one finds it everywhere。
〃So you're going to try to take humour up to Scotland;〃 the most eminent author in England said to me。 〃Well; the Lord help you。 You'd better take an axe with you to open their skulls; there is no other way。〃 How this legend started I don't know; but I think it is because the English are jealous of the Scotch。 They got into the Union with them in 1707 and they can't get out。 The Scotch don't want Home Rule; or Swa Raj; or Dominion status; or anything; they just want the English。 When they want money they go to London and make it; if they want literary fame they sell their books to the English; and to prevent any kind of political trouble they take care to keep the Cabinet well filled with Scotchmen。 The English for shame's sake can't get out of the Union; so they retaliate by saying that the Scotch have no sense of humour。 But there's nothing in it。 One has only to ask any of the theatrical people and they will tell you that the audiences in Glasgow and Edinburgh are the best in the British Islespossess the best taste and the best ability to recognise what is really good。
The reason for this lies; I think; in the well…known fact that the Scotch are a truly educated people; not educated in the mere sense of having been made to go to school; but in the higher sense of having acquired an interest in books and a respect for learning。 In England the higher classes alone possess this; the working class as a whole know nothing of it。 But in Scotland the attitude is universal。 And the more I reflect upon the subject; the more I believe that what counts most in the appreciation of humour is not nationality; but the degree of education enjoyed by the individual concerned。 I do not think that there is any doubt that educated people possess a far wider range of humour than the uneducated class。 Some people; of course; get overeducated and become hopelessly academic。 The word 〃highbrow〃 has been invented exactly to fit the case。 The sense of humour in the highbrow has become atrophied; or; to vary the metaphor; it is submerged or buried under the accumulated strata of his education; on the top soil of which flourishes a fine growth of conceit。 But even in the highbrow the educated appreciation of humour is thereaway down。 Generally; if one attempts to amuse a highbrow he will resent it as if the process were beneath him; or perhaps the intellectual jealousy and touchiness with which he is always overcharged will lead him to retaliate with a pointless story from Plato。 But if the highbrow is right off his guard and has no jealousy in his mind; you may find him roaring with laughter and wiping his spectacles; with his sides shaking; and see him converted as by magic into the merry; clever little school…boy that he was thirty years ago; before his education ossified him。
But with the illiterate and the rustic no such process is possible。 His sense of humour may be there as a sense; but the mechanism for setting it in operation is limited and rudimentary。 Only the broadest and most elementary forms of joke can reach him。 The magnificent mechanism of the art of words is; quite literally; a sealed book to him。 Here and there; indeed; a form of fun is found so elementary in its nature and yet so excellent in execution that it appeals to all alike; to the illiterate and to the highbrow; to the peasant and the professor。 Such; for example; are the antics of Mr。 Charles Chaplin or the depiction of Mr。 Jiggs by the pencil of George McManus。 But such cases are rare。 As a rule the cheap fun that excites the rustic to laughter is execrable to the man of education。
In the light of what I have said before it follows that the individuals that are findable in every English or American audience are much the same。 All those who lecture or act are well aware that there are certain types of people that are always to be seen somewhere in the hall。 Some of these belong to the general class of discouraging people。 They listen in stolid silence。 No light of intelligence ever gleams on their faces; no response comes from their eyes。
I find; for example; that wherever I go there is always seated in the audience; about three seats from the front; a silent man with a big motionless face like a melon。 He is always there。 I have seen that man in every town or city from Richmond; Indiana; to Bournemouth in Hampshire。 He haunts me。 I get to expect him。 I feel like nodding to him from the platform。 And I find that all other lecturers have the same experience。 Wherever they go the man with the big face is always there。 He never laughs; no matter if the people all round him are convulsed with laughter; he sits there like a rockor; no; like a toadimmovable。 What he thinks I don't know。 Why he comes to lectures I cannot guess。 Once; and once only; I spoke to him; or; rather; he spoke to me。 I was coming out from the lecture and found myself close to him in the corridor。 It had been a rather gloomy evening; the audience had hardly laughed at all; and I know nothing sadder than a humorous lecture without laughter。 The man with the big face; finding himself beside me; turned and said; 〃Some of them people weren't getting that to…night。〃 His tone of sympathy seemed to imply that he had got it all himself; if so; he must have swallowed it whole without a sign。 But I have since thought that this man with the big face may have his own internal form of appreciation。 This much; however; I know: to look at him from the platform is fatal。 One sustained look into his big; motionless face and the lecturer would be lost; inspiration would die upon one's lipsthe basilisk isn't in it with him。
Personally; I no sooner see the man with the big face than instinctively I turn my eyes away。 I look round the hall for another man that I know is always