the rhythm of life and other essays(生命的旋律)-第2节
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slang。 But his colonialism is only provincialism very articulate。 The
new air does but make old decadences seem more stale； the young soil
does but set into fresh conditions the ready…made； the uncostly； the refuse
feeling of a race decivilising。 American fancy played long this pattering
part of youth。 The New…Englander hastened to assure you with so self…
denying a face he did not wear war…paint and feathers； that it became
doubly difficult to communicate to him that you had suspected him of
nothing wilder than a second…hand dress coat。 And when it was a
question not of rebuke； but of praise； the American was ill…content with the
word of the judicious who lauded him for some delicate successes in
continuing something of the literature of England； something of the art of
France； he was more eager for the applause that stimulated him to write
romances and to paint panoramic landscape； after brief training in
academies of native inspiration。 Even now English voices； with violent
commonplace； are constantly calling upon America to beginto begin； for
the world is expectant。 Whereas there is no beginning for her； but instead
a continuity which only a constant care can guide into sustained
refinement and can save from decivilisation。
But decivilised man is not peculiar to new soil。 The English town；
too； knows him in all his dailiness。 In England； too； he has a literature；
an art； a music； all his ownderived from many and various things of price。
Trash； in the fulness of its in simplicity and cheapness； is impossible
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without a beautiful past。 Its chief characteristicwhich is futility； not
failurecould not be achieved but by the long abuse； the rotatory
reproduction； the quotidian disgrace； of the utterances of Art； especially
the utterance by words。 Gaiety； vigour； vitality； the organic quality；
purity； simplicity； precisionall these are among the antecedents of trash。
It is after them； it is also； alas； because of them。 And nothing can be
much sadder than such a proof of what may possibly be the failure of
derivation。
Evidently we cannot choose our posterity。 Reversing the steps of
time； we may； indeed； choose backwards。 We may give our thoughts
noble forefathers。 Well begotten； well born our fancies must be； they
shall be also well derived。 We have a voice in decreeing our inheritance；
and not our inheritance only； but our heredity。 Our minds may trace
upwards and follow their ways to the best well…heads of the arts。 The
very habit of our thoughts may be persuaded one way unawares by their
antenatal history。 Their companions must be lovely； but need be no
lovelier than their ancestors； and being so fathered and so husbanded； our
thoughts may be intrusted to keep the counsels of literature。
Such is our confidence in a descent we know。 But； of a sequel which
of us is sure？ Which of us is secured against the dangers of subsequent
depreciation？ And； moreover； which of us shall trace the contemporary
tendencies； the one towards honour； the other towards dishonour？ Or
who shall discover why derivation becomes degeneration； and where and
when and how the bastardy befalls？ The decivilised have every grace as
the antecedent of their vulgarities； every distinction as the precedent of
their mediocrities。 No ballad…concert song； feign it sigh； frolic； or laugh；
but has the excuse that the feint was suggested； was made easy； by some
living sweetness once。 Nor are the decivilised to blame as having in their
own persons possessed civilisation and marred it。 They did not possess it；
they were born into some tendency to derogation； into an inclination for
things mentally inexpensive。 And the tendency can hardly do other than
continue。 Nothing can look duller than the future of this second…hand
and multiplying world。 Men need not be common merely because they
are many； but the infection of commonness once begun in the many； what
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dulness in their future！ To the eye that has reluctantly discovered this
truththat the vulgarised are not UNcivilised； and that there is no growth
for themit does not look like a future at all。 More ballad…concerts； more
quaint English； more robustious barytone songs； more piecemeal pictures；
more anxious decoration； more colonial poetry； more young nations with
withered traditions。 Yet it is before this prospect that the provincial
overseas lifts up his voice in a boast or a promise common enough among
the incapable young； but pardonable only in senility。 He promises the
world a literature； an art； that shall be new because his forest is untracked
and his town just built。 But what the newness is to be he cannot tell。
Certain words were dreadful once in the mouth of desperate old age。
Dreadful and pitiable as the threat of an impotent king； what shall we
name them when they are the promise of an impotent people？ 'I will do
such things： what they are yet I know not。'
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A REMEMBRANCE
When the memories of two or three persons now upon earth shall be
rolled up and sealed with their records within them； there will be no
remembrance left open； except this； of a man whose silence seems better
worth interpreting than the speech of many another。 Of himself he has
left no vestiges。 It was a common reproach against him that he never
acknowledged the obligation to any kind of restlessness。 The kingdom of
heaven suffereth violence； but as he did none there was nothing for it but
that the kingdom of heaven should yield to his leisure。 The delicate； the
abstinent； the reticent graces were his in the heroic degree。 Where shall I
find a pen fastidious enough to define and limit and enforce so many
significant negatives？ Words seem to offend by too much assertion； and
to check the suggestions of his reserve。 That reserve was life… long。
Loving literature； he never lifted a pen except to write a letter。 He was
not inarticulate； he was only silent。 He had an exquisite style from which
to refrain。 The things he abstained from were all exquisite。 They were
brought from far to undergo his judgment； if haply he might have selected
them。 Things ignoble never approached near enough for his refusal； they
had not with him so much as that negative connexion。 If I had to equip
an author I should ask no better than to arm him and invest him with
precisely the riches that were renounced by the man whose intellect； by
integrity； had become a presence…chamber。
It was by holding session among so many implicit safeguards that he
taught； rather than by precepts。 Few were these in his speech； but his
personality made laws for me。 It was a subtle education； for it persuaded
insensibly to a conception of my own。 How； if he would not define；
could I know what things were and what were not worthy of his gentle and
implacable judgment？ I must needs judge them for myself； yet he
constrained me in the judging。 Within that constraint and under that
stimulus； which seemed to touch the ultimate springs of thoughts before
they sprang； I began to discern all things in literature and in lifein the
chastity of letters and in the honour of lifethat I was bound to
