the voice of the city(城市之声)-第18部分
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〃While the cheers following his nomination were still ringing through the
old courthouse； Harwood broke away from the congrat… ulating handclasps
of his henchmen and hurried to Judge Creswell's house to find Ida。〃
Pettit came up out of Alabama to write fiction。 The Southern papers
had printed eight of his stories under an editorial caption identifying the
author as the son of 〃the gallant Major Pettingill Pettit； our former County
Attorney and hero of the battle of Lookout Mountain。〃
Pettit was a rugged fellow； with a kind of shame… faced culture； and
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my good friend。 His father kept a general store in a little town called
Hosea。 Pettit had been raised in the pine…woods and broom…sedge fields
adjacent thereto。 He had in his gripsack two manuscript novels of the
adventures in Picardy of one Gaston Laboulaye； Vicompte de Montrepos；
in the year 1329。 That's nothing。 We all do that。 And some day when we
make a hit with the little sketch about a newsy and his lame dog； the editor
prints the other one for us or 〃on us；〃 as the say… ing is and then and
then we have to get a big valise and peddle those patent air…draft gas
burners。 At 1。25 everybody should have 'em。
I took Pettit to the red…brick house which was to appear in an article
entitled 〃Literary Landmarks of Old New York；〃 some day when we got
through with it。 He engaged a room there； drawing on the general store for
his expenses。 I showed New York to him； and he did not mention how
much narrower Broadway is than Lee Avenue in Hosea。 This seemed a
good sign； so I put the final test。
〃Suppose you try your band at a descriptive arti… cle；〃 I suggested；
〃giving your impressions of New York as seen from the Brooklyn Bridge。
The fresh point of view； the 〃
〃Don't be a fool；〃 said Pettit。 〃Let's go have some beer。 On the whole I
rather like the city。〃 We discovered and enjoyed the only true Bohemia。
Every day and night we repaired to one of those palaces of marble and
glass and tilework； where goes on a tremendous and sounding epic of life。
Valhalla itself could not be more glorious and sonorous。 The classic
marble on which we ate； the great； light… flooded； vitreous front； adorned
with snow…white scrolls； the grand Wagnerian din of clanking cups and
bowls the flashing staccato of brandishing cut… lery； the piercing recitative
of the white…aproned grub…maidens at the morgue…like banquet tables； the
recurrent lied…motif of the cash…register it was a gigantic； triumphant
welding of art and sound； a deafening； soul…uplifting pageant of heroic and
em… blematic life。 And the beans were only ten cents。 We wondered why
our fellow…artists cared to dine at sad little tables in their so…called
Bohemian restau… rants； and we shuddered lest they should seek out our
resorts and make them conspicuous with their pres… ence。
Pettit wrote many stories； which the editors re… turned to him。 He
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wrote love stories； a thing I have always kept free from； holding the belief
that the well…known and popular sentiment is not properly a matter for
publication； but something to be privately handled by the alienists and
florists。 But the editors had told him that they wanted love stories； because
they said the women read them。
Now； the editors are wrong about that； of course。 Women do not read
the love stories in the magazines。 They read the poker…game stories and
the recipes for cucumber lotion。 The love stories are read by fat cigar
drummers and little ten…year…old girls。 I am not criticising the judgment of
editors。 They are mostly very fine men； but a man can be but one man；
with individual opinions and tastes。 I knew two associate editors of a
magazine who were won… derfully alike in almost everything。 And yet one
of them was very fond of Flaubert； while the other preferred gin。
Pettit brought me his returned manuscripts； and we looked them over
together to find out why they were not accepted。 They seemed to me pretty
fair stories； written in a good style； and ended； as they should； at the
bottom of the last page。
They were well constructed and the events were marshalled in orderly
and logical sequence。 But I thought I detected a lack of living substance
it was much as if I gazed at a symmetrical array of presentable clamshells
from which the succulent and vital inhabitants had been removed。 I
intimated that the author might do well to get better acquainted with his
theme。
〃You sold a story last week；〃 said Pettit； 〃about a gun fight in an
Arizona mining town in which the hero drew his Colt's 。45 and shot seven
bandits as fast as they came in the door。 Now； if a six…shooter could 〃
〃Oh； well；〃 said I； 〃that's different。 Arizona is a long way from New
York。 I could have a man stabbed with a lariat or chased by a pair of chap…
arreras if I wanted to； and it wouldn't be noticed until the usual error…sharp
from around McAdams Junction isolates the erratum and writes in to the
pa… pers about it。 But you are up against another proposition。 This thing
they call love is as common around New York as it is in Sheboygan during
the young onion season。 It may be mixed here with a little commercialism
they read Byron； but they look up Bradstreet's； too； while they're among
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the B's； and Brigham also if they have time but it's pretty much the same
old internal disturbance every… where。 You can fool an editor with a fake
picture of a cowboy mounting a pony with his left hand on the saddle horn；
but you can't put him up a tree with a love story。 So； you've got to fall in
love and then write the real thing。〃
Pettit did。 I never knew whether he was taking my advice or whether
be fell an accidental victim。
There was a girl be had met at one of these studio contrivances … a
glorious； impudent； lucid； open… minded girl with hair the color of
Culmbacher； and a good…natured way of despising you。 She was a New
York girl。
Well （as the narrative style permits us to say in… frequently）； Pettit
went to pieces。 All those pains； those lover's doubts； those heart…burnings
and tremors of which be had written so unconvincingly were his。 Talk
about Shylock's pound of flesh！ Twenty…five pounds Cupid got from Pettit。
Which is the usurer？
One night Pettit came to my room exalted。 Pale and haggard but
exalted。 She had given him a jonquil。
〃Old Hoss；〃 said he； with a new smile flickering around his mouth； 〃I
believe I could write that story to…night the one； you know； that is to win
out。
〃I can feel it。 I don't know whether it will come out or not； but I can
feel it。〃 I pushed him out of my door。 〃Go to your room and write it；〃 I
ordered。 〃Else I can see your fin… ish。 I told you this must come first。 Write
it to… night and put it under my door when it is done。 Put it under my door
to…night when it is finished don't keep it until to…morrow。〃
I was reading my bully old pal Montaigne at two o'clock when I beard
the sheets rustle under my door。 I gathered them up and read the story。
The hissing of geese； the languishing cooing of doves； the braying of
donkeys； the chatter of irre… sponsible sparrows … these were in my mind's
ear as I read。 〃Suffering Sappho！〃 I exclaimed to myself。 〃Is this the
divine fire that is supposed to ignite genius and make it practicable and
wage…earning？〃
The story was sentimental drivel； full of whim… pering softheartedness
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and gushing egoism。 All the art that Pettit had acquired was gone。 A pe…
rusal of its buttery phrases would have made a cynic of a sighing
chambermaid。
In the mo
