worldly ways and byways-第8节

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！



those　who　do　not　understand　them；　is　their　love　of　praise；　the　

critics　failing　to　grasp　the　fact　that　this　passion　for　measuring　

one's　self　with　others；　like　the　gad…fly　pursuing　poor　Io；　never　

allows　a　moment's　repose　in　the　green　pastures　of　success；　but　

goads　them　constantly　up　the　rocky　sides　of　endeavor。　　It　is　not　

that　they　love　flattery；　but　that　they　need　approbation　as　a　

counterpoise　to　the　dark　moments　of　self…abasement　and　as　a　

sustaining　aid　for　higher　flights。



Many　years　ago　I　was　present　at　a　final　sitting　which　my　master；　

Carolus　Duran；　gave　to　one　of　my　fair　compatriots。　　He　knew　that　

the　lady　was　leaving　Paris　on　the　morrow；　and　that　in　an　hour；　her　

husband　and　his　friends　were　coming　to　see　and　criticise　the　

portrait　…　always　a　terrible　ordeal　for　an　artist。



To　any　one　familiar　with　this　painter's　moods；　it　was　evident　that　

the　result　of　the　sitting　was　not　entirely　satisfactory。　　The　quick　

breathing；　the　impatient　tapping　movement　of　the　foot；　the　swift　

backward　springs　to　obtain　a　better　view；　so　characteristic　of　him　

in　moments　of　doubt；　and　which　had　twenty　years　before　earned　him　

the　name　of　LE　DANSEUR　from　his　fellow…copyists　at　the　Louvre；　

betrayed　to　even　a　casual　observer　that　his　discouragement　and　

discontent　were　at　boiling　point。



The　sound　of　a　bell　and　a　murmur　of　voices　announced　the　entrance　

of　the　visitors　into　the　vast　studio。　　After　the　formalities　of　

introduction　had　been　accomplished　the　new…comers　glanced　at　the　

portrait；　but　uttered　never　a　word。　　From　it　they　passed　in　a　

perfectly　casual　manner　to　an　inspection　of　the　beautiful　contents　

of　the　room；　investigating　the　tapestries；　admiring　the　armor；　and　

finally；　after　another　glance　at　the　portrait；　the　husband　

remarked：　〃You　have　given　my　wife　a　jolly　long　neck；　haven't　you？〃　

and；　turning　to　his　friends；　began　laughing　and　chatting　in　

English。



If　vitriol　had　been　thrown　on　my　poor　master's　quivering　frame；　the　

effect　could　not　have　been　more　instantaneous；　his　ignorance　of　the　

language　spoken　doubtless　exaggerating　his　impression　of　being　

ridiculed。　　Suddenly　he　turned　very　white；　and　before　any　of　us　had　

divined　his　intention　he　had　seized　a　Japanese　sword　lying　by　and　

cut　a　dozen　gashes　across　the　canvas。　　Then；　dropping　his　weapon；　

he　flung　out　of　the　room；　leaving　his　sitter　and　her　friends　in　

speechless　consternation；　to　wonder　then　and　ever　after　in　what　way　

they　had　offended　him。　　In　their　opinions；　if　a　man　had　talent　and　

understood　his　business；　he　should　produce　portraits　with　the　same　

ease　that　he　would　answer　dinner　invitations；　and　if　they　paid　for；　

they　were　in　no　way　bound　also　to　praise；　his　work。　　They　were　

entirely　pleased　with　the　result；　but　did　not　consider　it　necessary　

to　tell　him　so；　no　idea　having　crossed　their　minds　that　he　might　be　

in　one　of　those　moods　so　frequent　with　artistic　natures；　when　words　

of　approbation　and　praise　are　as　necessary　to　them；　as　the　air　we　

breathe　is　to　us；　mortals　of　a　commoner　clay。



Even　in　the　theatrical　and　operatic　professions；　those　hotbeds　of　

conceit；　you　will　generally　find　among　the　〃stars〃　abysmal　depths　

of　discouragement　and　despair。　　One　great　tenor；　who　has　delighted　

New　York　audiences　during　several　winters　past；　invariably　

announces　to　his　intimates　on　arising　that　his　〃voice　has　gone；〃　

and　that；　in　consequence　he　will　〃never　sing　again；〃　and　has　to　be　

caressed　and　cajoled　back　into　some　semblance　of　confidence　before　

attempting　a　performance。　　This　same　artist；　with　an　almost　

limitless　repertoire　and　a　reputation　no　new　successes　could　

enhance；　recently　risked　all　to　sing　what　he　considered　a　higher　

class　of　music；　infinitely　more　fatiguing　to　his　voice；　because　he　

was　impelled　onward　by　the　ideal　that　forces　genius　to　constant　

improvement　and　development　of　its　powers。



What　the　people　who　meet　these　artists　occasionally　at　a　private　

concert　or　behind　the　scenes　during　the　intense　strain　of　a　

representation；　take　too　readily　for　monumental　egoism　and　conceit；　

is；　the　greater　part　of　the　time；　merely　the　desire　for　a　

sustaining　word；　a　longing　for　the　stimulant　of　praise。



All　actors　and　singers　are　but　big　children；　and　must　be　humored　

and　petted　like　children　when　you　wish　them　to　do　their　best。　　It　

is　necessary　for　them　to　feel　in　touch　with　their　audiences；　to　be　

assured　that　they　are　not　falling　below　the　high　ideals　formed　for　

their　work。



Some　winters　ago　a　performance　at　the　opera　nearly　came　to　a　

standstill　because　an　all…conquering　soprano　was　found　crying　in　

her　dressing…room。　　After　many　weary　moments　of　consolation　and　

questioning；　it　came　out　that　she　felt　quite　sure　she　no　longer　had　

any　talent。　　One　of　the　other　singers　had　laughed　at　her　voice；　and　

in　consequence　there　was　nothing　left　to　live　for。　　A　half…hour　

later；　owing　to　judicious　〃treatment；〃　she　was　singing　gloriously　

and　bowing　her　thanks　to　thunders　of　applause。



Rather　than　blame　this　divine　discontent　that　has　made　man　what　he　

is　to…day；　let　us　glorify　and　envy　it；　pitying　the　while　the　frail　

mortal　vessels　it　consumes　with　its　flame。　　No　adulation　can　turn　

such　natures　from　their　goal；　and　in　the　hour　of　triumph　the　slave　

is　always　at　their　side　to　whisper　the　word　of　warning。　　This　

discontent　is　the　leaven　that　has　raised　the　whole　loaf　of　dull　

humanity　to　better　things　and　higher　efforts；　those　privileged　to　

feel　it　are　the　suns　that　illuminate　our　system。　　If　on　these　

luminaries　observers　have　discovered　spots；　it　is　well　to　remember　

that　these　blemishes　are　but　the　defects　of　their　qualities；　and　

better　far　than　the　total　eclipse　that　shrouds　so　large　a　part　of　

humanity　in　colorless　complacency。



It　will　never　be　known　how　many　master…pieces　have　been　lost　to　the　

world　because　at　the　critical　moment　a　friend　has　not　been　at　hand　

with　the　stimulant　of　sympathy　and　encouragement　needed　by　an　

overworked；　straining　artist　who　was　beginning　to　lose　confidence　

in　himself；　to　soothe　his　irritated　nerves　with　the　balm　of　praise；　

and　take　his　poor　aching　head　on　a　friendly　shoulder　and　let　him　

sob　out　there　all　his　doubt　and　discouragement。



So　let　us　not　be　niggardly　or　ungenerous　in　meting　out　to　

struggling　fellow…beings　their　share；　and　perchance　a　little　more　

than　their　share　of　approbation　and　applause；　poor　enough　return；　

after　all；　for　the　pleasure　their　labors　have　procured　us。　　What　

adequate　compensation　can　we　mete　out　to　an　author　for　the　hours　of　

delight　and　self…forgetfulness　his　talent　has　brought　to　us　in　

moments　of　loneliness；　illness；　or　grief？　　What　can　pay　our　debt　to　

a　painter　who　has　fixed　on　canvas　the　face　we　love？



The　little　return　that　it　is　in　our　power　to　make　for　all　the　joy　

these　gifted　fellow…beings　bring　into　our　lives　is　（closing　our　

eyes　to　minor　imperfections）　to　warmly　applaud　them　as　they　move　

upward；　along　their　stony　path。









CHAPTER　8　…　Slouch





I　SHOULD　like　to　see；　in　every　school…room　of　our　growing　country；　

in　every　business　office；　at　the　railway　stations；　and　on　street　

corners；　large　placards　placed　with　〃Do　not　slouch〃　printed　thereon　

in　distinct　and　imposing　characters。　　If　ever　there　was　a　tendency　

that　needed　nipping　in　the　bud　（I　fear　the　bud　is　fast　becoming　a　

full…blown　flower）；　it　is　this　discouraging　national　failing。



Each　year　when　I　return　from　my　spring　wanderings；　among　the　

benighted　and　effete　nations　of　the　Old　World；　on　whom　the　

untravelled　American　looks　down　from　the　height　of　his　superiority；　

I　am　struck　anew　by　the　contrast　between　the　trim；　well…groomed　

officials　left　behind　on　one　side　of　the　ocean　and　the　happy…go…

lucky；　slouching　individuals　I　find　on　the　other。



As　I　ride　up　town　this　unpleasant　impression　deepens。　　In　the　

〃little　Mother　Isle〃　I　have　just　left；　bus…drivers　have　quite　a　

coaching　air；　with　hat　and　coat　of　knowing　form。　　They　sport　

flowers　in　their　button…holes　and　salute　other　bus…drivers；　when　

they　meet；　with　a　twist　of　whip　and　elbow　refreshingly　correct；　

showing　that　they　take　pride　in　their　calling；　and　have　been　at　

some　pains　to　turn　themselves　out　as　smart　in　appearance　as　

finances　would　allow。



Here；　on　the　contrary；　the　stage　and　cab　drivers　I　meet　seem　to　be　

under　a　blight；　and　to　have　lost　all　interest　in　life。　　They　lounge　

on　the　box；　their　legs　straggling　aimlessly；　one　hand　holding　the　

reins；　the　other　hanging　dejectedly　by　the　side。　　Yet　there　is　

little　doubt　that　these　heartbroken　citizens　are　earning　double　

what　their　London　CONFRERES　gain。　　The　shadow　of　the　national　

peculiarity　is　over　them。



When　I　get　to　my　rooms；　the　elevator　boy　is　reclining　in　the　lift；　

and　hardly　raises　his　eye…lids　as　he　languidly　manoeuvres　the　rope。　　

I　have　seen　that　boy　now　for　months；　but　never　when　his　boots　and　

clothes