第 12 节
作者:南方网      更新:2024-08-29 08:48      字数:9284
  of it could not be awkward if he tried; and I will do Delorme the justice to say that he put his dress to some severe tests。  But he was graceful all the while; and made me wish that my country… men would throw aside their present hideous habiliments and hasten to the measuring…room of Delorme's tailor。      In looking over the plates of an old book of fashions we smile at the monstrous attire in which our worthy great…grandsires saw fit to deck themselves。  Presently it will be the turn of posterity to smile at us; for in our own way we are no less ridiculous than were our ances… tors in their knee…breeches; pig…tail and chapeau de bras。  In fact we are really more absurd。  If a fashionably dressed man of to…day could catch a single glimpse of himself through the eyes of his descendants four or five generations re… moved; he would have a strong impression of being something that had escaped from some… where。      Whatever strides we may have made in arts and sciences; we have made no advance in the matter of costume。  That Americans do not tattoo themselves; and do go fully cladI am speaking exclusively of my own sexis about all that can be said in favor of our present fashions。  I wish I had the vocabulary of Herr Teufelsdrockh with which to inveigh against the dress…coat of our evening parties; the angu… lar swallow…tailed coat that makes a man look like a poor species of bird and gets him mis… taken for the waiter。  〃As long as a man wears the modern coat;〃 says Leigh Hunt; 〃he has no right to despise any dress。  What snips at the collar and lapels!  What a mechanical and ridic… ulous cut about the flaps!  What buttons in front that are never meant to button; and yet are no ornament!  And what an exquisitely absurd pair of buttons at the back! gravely regarded; never… theless; and thought as indispensably necessary to every well…conditioned coat; as other bits of metal or bone are to the bodies of savages whom we laugh at。  There is absolutely not one iota of sense; grace; or even economy in the modern coat。〃      Still more deplorable is the ceremonial hat of the period。  That a Christian can go about un… abashed with a shiny black cylinder on his head shows what civilization has done for us in the way of taste in personal decoration。  The scalp… lock of an Apache brave has more style。  When an Indian squaw comes into a frontier settle… ment the first 〃marked…down〃 article she pur… chases is a section of stove…pipe。  Her instinct as to the eternal fitness of things tells her that its proper place is on the skull of a barbarian。      It was while revolving these pleasing reflec… tions in my mind; that our friend Delorme walked across the stage in the fourth act; and though there was nothing in the situation nor in the text of the play to warrant it; I broke into tremendous applause; from which I desisted only at the scowl of an usheran object in a celluloid collar and a claw…hammer coat。  My solitary ovation to Master Delorme was an in… voluntary and; I think; pardonable protest against the male costume of our own time。
  ON A CERTAIN AFFECTATION
  EXCEPTING on the ground that youth is the age of vain fantasy; there is no ac… counting for the fact that young men and young women of poetical temperament should so fre… quently assume to look upon an early demise for themselves as the most desirable thing in the world。  Though one may incidentally be tempted to agree with them in the abstract; one cannot help wondering。  That persons who are exceptionally fortunate in their environment; and in private do not pretend to be otherwise; should openly announce their intention of retiring at once into the family tomb; is a problem not easily solved。  The public has so long listened to these funereal solos that if a few of the poets thus impatient to be gone were to go; their de… parture would perhaps be attended by that re… signed speeding which the proverb invokes on behalf of the parting guest。      The existence of at least one magazine editor would; I know; have a shadow lifted from it。 At this writing; in a small mortuary basket under his desk are seven or eight poems of so gloomy a nature that he would not be able to remain in the same room with them if he did not suspect the integrity of their pessimism。 The ring of a false coin is not more recognizable than that of a rhyme setting forth a simulated sorrow。      The Miss Gladys who sends a poem entitled 〃Forsaken;〃 in which she addresses death as her only friend; makes pictures in the editor's eyes。 He sees; among other dissolving views; a little hoyden in magnificent spirits; perhaps one of this season's social buds; with half a score of lovers ready to pluck her from the family stem a rose whose countless petals are coupons。  A caramel has disagreed with her; or she would not have written in this despondent vein。  The young man who seeks to inform the world in eleven anaemic stanzas of terze rime that the cup of happiness has been forever dashed from his lip (he appears to have but one) and darkly intimates that the end is 〃nigh〃 (rhyming af… fably with 〃sigh〃); will probably be engaged a quarter of a century from now in making simi… lar declarations。  He is simply echoing some dysthymic poet of the pastreaching out with some other man's hat for the stray nickel of your sympathy。      This morbidness seldom accompanies gen… uine poetic gifts。  The case of David Gray; the young Scottish poet who died in 1861; is an in… stance to the contrary。  His lot was exceedingly sad; and the failure of health just as he was on the verge of achieving something like success justified his profound melancholy; but that he tuned this melancholy and played upon it; as if it were a musical instrument; is plainly seen in one of his sonnets。      In Monckton Milnes's (Lord Houghton's) 〃Life and Letters of John Keats〃 it is related that Keats; one day; on finding a stain of blood upon his lips after coughing; said to his friend Charles Brown: 〃I know the color of that blood; it is arterial blood; I cannot be deceived。  That drop is my death…warrant。  I must die。〃  Who that ever read the passage could forget it?  David Gray did not; for he versified the incident as happening to himself and appropriated; as his own; Keats's comment:
  Last night; on coughing slightly with sharp pain;      There came arterial blood; and with a sigh      Of absolute grief I cried in bitter vein;      That drop is my death…warrant; I must die。
  The incident was likely enough a personal experience; but the comment should have been placed in quotation marks。  I know of few stranger things in literature than this poet's dramatization of another man's pathos。  Even Keats's epitaphHere lies one whose name was writ in waterfinds an echo in David Gray's Below lies one whose name was traced in sand。 Poor Gray was at least the better prophet。
  WISHMAKERS' TOWN
  A LIMITED edition of this little volume of verse; which seems to me in many re… spects unique; was issued in 1885; and has long been out of print。  The reissue of the book is in response to the desire off certain readers who have not forgotten the charm which William Young's poem exercised upon them years ago; and; finding the charm still potent; would have others share it。      The scheme of the poem; for it is a poem and not simply a series of unrelated lyrics; is in… genious and original; and unfolds itself in mea… sures at once strong and delicate。  The mood of the poet and the method of the playwright are obvious throughout。  Wishmakers' Towna little town situated in the no…man's…land of 〃The Tempest〃 and 〃A Midsummer Night's Dream〃 is shown to us as it awakens; touched by the dawn。  The clangor of bells far and near calls the townfolk to their various avocations; the toiler to his toil; the idler to his idleness; the miser to his gold。  In swift and picturesque se… quence the personages of the Masque pass be… fore us。  Merchants; hucksters; players; lovers; gossips; soldiers; vagabonds; and princes crowd the scene; and have in turn their word of poign… ant speech。  We mingle with the throng in the streets; we hear the whir of looms and the din of foundries; the blare of trumpets; the whisper of lovers; the scandals of the market…place; and; in brief; are let into all the secrets of the busy microcosm。  A contracted stage; indeed; yet large enough for the play of many passions; as the narrowest hearthstone may be。  With the sounding of the curfew; the town is hushed to sleep again; and the curtain falls on this mimic drama of life。      The charm of it all is not easily to be defined。 Perhaps if one could name it; the spell were broken。  Above the changing rhythms hangs an atmosphere too evasive for measurementan atmosphere that stipulates an imaginative mood on the part of the reader。  The quality which pleases in certain of the lyrical episodes is less intangible。  One readily explains one's liking for so gracious a lyric as The Flower…Seller; to select an example at random。  Next to the plea… sure that lies in the writing of such exquisite verse is the pleasure of quoting it。  I copy the stanzas partly for my own gratification; and partly to win the reader to 〃Wishmakers' Town;〃 not knowing better how to do it。