It is not generally known that after forty-two years of constant use the aged1 and honored movable which now again finds itself put back in its old place in the rear of Harper's Magazine was stored in the warehouse2 of a certain safety-deposit company, in the winter of 1892. The event which had then vacated the chair is still so near as to be full of a pathos3 tenderly personal to all readers of that magazine, and may not be lightly mentioned in any travesty4 of the facts by one who was thought of for the empty place. He, before putting on the mask and mimic5 editorial robes—for it was never the real editor who sat in the Easy Chair, except for that brief hour when he took it to pay his deep-thought and deep-felt tribute to its last occupant—stood with bowed face and uncovered head in that bravest and gentlest presence which, while it abode6 with us here, men knew as George William Curtis.
It was, of course, in one of the best of the fireproof warehouses7 that the real editor had the Easy Chair stored, and when the unreal editor went to take it out of storage he found it without trouble in one of those vast rooms where the more valuable furniture and bric-à-brac are guarded in a special tutelage. If instinct had not taught him, he would have known it by its homely8 fashion, which the first unreal editor had suggested when he described it as an "old red-backed Easy Chair that has long been an ornament9 of our dingy10 office." That unreality was Mr. Donald G. Mitchell, the graceful11 and gracious Ik Marvel12, dear to the old hearts that are still young for his Dream Life and his Reveries of a Bachelor, and never unreal in anything but his pretence13 of being the real editor of the magazine. In this disguise he feigned14 that he had "a way of throwing" himself back in the Easy Chair, "and indulging in an easy and careless overlook of the gossiping papers of the day, and in such chit-chat with chance visitors as kept him informed of the drift of the town talk, while it relieved greatly the monotony of his office hours." Not "bent16 on choosing mere17 gossip," he promised to be "on the watch for such topics or incidents as" seemed really important and suggestive, and to set them "down with all that gloss18, and that happy lack of sequence, which make every-day talk so much better than every-day writing."
While the actual unreality stood thinking how perfectly19 the theory and practice of the Easy Chair for hard upon fifty years had been forecast in these words, and while the warehouse agent stood waiting his pleasure, the Easy Chair fetched a long, deep sigh. Sigh one must call the sound, but it was rather like that soft complaint of the woody fibres in a table which disembodied spirits are about to visit, and which continues to exhale20 from it till their peculiar21 vocabulary utters itself in a staccato of muffled22 taps. No one who has heard that sound can mistake it for another, and the unreal editor knew at once that he confronted in the Easy Chair an animate23 presence.
"How long have I been here?" it asked, like one wakened from a deep sleep.
"About eight years," said the unreal editor.
"Ah, I remember," the Easy Chair murmured, and, as the unreal editor bent forward to pluck away certain sprays of foliage24 that clung to its old red back, it demanded, "What is that?"
"Some bits of holly25 and mistletoe."
"Yes," the Easy Chair softly murmured again. "The last essay he wrote in me was about Christmas. I have not forgotten one word of it all: how it began, how it went on, and how it ended! 'In the very promise of the year appears the hectic26 of its decay.... The question that we have to ask, forecasting in these summer days the coming of Christmas which already shines afar off, is this: whether while we praise Christmas as a day of general joy we take care to keep it so.... Thackeray describes a little dinner at the Timminses'. A modest couple make themselves miserable27 and spend all their little earnings28 in order to give a dinner to people for whom they do not care, and who do not care for them.... Christmas is made miserable to the Timminses because they feel that they must spend lavishly29 and buy gifts like their richer neighbors.... You cannot buy Christmas at the shops, and a sign of friendly sympathy costs little.... Should not the extravagance of Christmas cause every honest man and woman practically to protest by refusing to yield to the extravagance?' There!" the Easy Chair broke off from quoting, "that was Curtis! The kind and reasonable mood, the righteous conscience incarnate30 in the studied art, the charming literary allusion31 for the sake of the unliterary lesson, the genial32 philosophy—
'not too good
For human nature's daily food'—
the wisdom alike of the closet and the public square, the large patience and the undying hopefulness! Do you think," the Easy Chair said, with a searching severity one would not have expected of it, "that you are fit to take his place?"
In evasion33 of this hard question the unreal editor temporized34 with the effect of not having heard it. "I believe that he and Mr. Mitchell were the only writers of your papers till Mr. Alden wrote the last?"
The Easy Chair responded, dryly, "You forget Aldrich."
"If I do, I am the only pebble35 on the shore of time that does or will," retorted the unreal editor. "But he wrote you for only two months. I well remember what a pleasure he had in it. And he knew how to make his readers share his pleasure! Still, it was Mr. Mitchell who invented you, and it was Curtis who characterized you beyond all the rest."
"For a while," said the Easy Chair, with autobiographical relish36, "they wrote me together, but it was not long before Mr. Mitchell left off, and Curtis kept on alone, and, as you say, he incomparably characterized me. He had his millennial37 hopes as well as you. In his youth he trusted in a time
'When the common sense of most shall hold a fretful realm in awe38,
And the kindly39 earth shall slumber40, lapt in universal law,'
and he never lost that faith. As he wrote in one of my best papers, the famous paper on Brook41 Farm, 'Bound fast by the brazen42 age, we can see that the way back to the age of gold lies through justice, which will substitute co-operation for competition.' He expected the world to be made over in the image of heaven some time, but meanwhile he was glad to help make it even a little better and pleasanter than he found it. He was ready to tighten43 a loose screw here and there, to pour a drop of oil on the rusty44 machinery45, to mend a broken wheel. He was not above putting a patch on a rift15 where a whiff of infernal air came up from the Bottomless Pit—"
"And I also believe in alleviations," the unreal editor interrupted. "I love justice, but charity is far better than nothing; and it would be abominable46 not to do all we can because we cannot at once do everything. Let us have the expedients47, the ameliorations, even the compromises, en attendant the millennium48. Let us accept the provisional, the makeshift. He who came on Christmas Day, and whose mission, as every Christmas Day comes to remind us, was the brotherhood49, the freedom, the equality of men, did not He warn us against hastily putting new wine into old bottles? To get the new bottles ready is slow work: that kind of bottle must grow; it cannot be made; and in the mean time let us keep our latest vintages in the vat50 till we have some vessel51 proof against their fermentation. I know that the hope of any such vessel is usually mocked as mere optimism, but I think optimism is as wise and true as pessimism52, or is at least as well founded; and since the one can no more establish itself as final truth than the other, it is better to have optimism. That was always the philosophy of the Easy Chair, and I do not know why that should be changed. The conditions are not changed."
There was a silence which neither the Easy Chair nor the unreal editor broke for a while. Then the Chair suggested, "I suppose that there is not much change in Christmas, at any rate?"
"No," said the unreal editor; "it goes on pretty much as it used. The Timminses, who give tiresome53 little dinners which they cannot afford to dull people who don't want them, are still alive and miserably54 bent on heaping reluctant beneficiaries with undesired favors, and spoiling the simple 'pleasure of the time' with the activities of their fatuous55 vanity. Or perhaps you think I ought to bring a hopeful mind even to the Timminses?"
"I don't see why not," said the Easy Chair. "They are not the architects of their own personalities56."
"Ah, take care, take care!" cried the unreal editor. "You will be saying next that we are the creatures of our environment; that the Timminses would be wiser and better if the conditions were not idiotic57 and pernicious; and you know what that comes to!"
"No, I am in no danger of that," the Easy Chair retorted. "The Timminses are no such victims of the conditions. They are of that vast moderately moneyed class who can perfectly well behave with sense if they will. Nobody above them or below them asks them to be foolish and wasteful58."
"And just now you were making excuses for them!"
"I said they were not the architects of their own personalities; but, nevertheless, they are masters of themselves. They are really free to leave off giving little dinners any day they think so. It should be the moralist's business to teach them to think so."
"And that was what Curtis gladly made his business," the unreal editor somewhat sadly confessed, with an unspoken regret for his own difference. More than once it had seemed to him in considering that rare nature that he differed from most reformers chiefly in loving the right rather than in hating the wrong; in fact, in not hating at all, but in pitying and accounting59 for the wrong as an ancient use corrupted60 into an abuse. Involuntarily the words of the real editor in that beautiful tribute to the high soul they were praising came to the unreal editor's lips, and he quoted aloud to the Easy Chair: "'His love of goodness was a passion. He would fain have seen all that was fair and good, and he strove to find it so; and, finding it otherwise, he strove to make it so.... With no heart for satire61, the discord62 that fell upon his sensitive ear made itself felt in his dauntless comment upon social shams63 and falsehoods.... But he was a lover of peace, and, ... as he was the ideal gentleman, the ideal citizen, he was also the ideal reformer, without eccentricity64 or exaggeration. However high his ideal, it never parted company with good sense. He never wanted better bread than could be made of wheat, but the wheat must be kept good and sound,' and I may add," the unreal editor broke off, "that he did not hurry the unripe65 grain to the hopper. He would not have sent all the horses at once to the abattoir66 because they made the city noisy and noisome67, but would first have waited till there were automobiles68 enough to supply their place."
The Easy Chair caught at the word. "Automobiles?" it echoed.
"Ah, I forgot how long you have been stored," said the unreal editor, and he explained as well as he could the new mode of motion, and how already, with its soft rubber galoshes, the automobile69 had everywhere stolen a march upon the iron heels of the horses in the city avenues.
He fancied the Easy Chair did not understand, quite, from the intelligent air with which it eagerly quitted the subject.
"Well," it said at last, "this isn't such a bad time to live in, after all, it appears. But for a supreme70 test of your optimism, now, what good can you find to say of Christmas? What sermon could you preach on that hackneyed theme which would please the fancy and gladden the heart of the readers of a Christmas number, where you should make your first appearance in the Easy Chair?"
To himself the unreal editor had to own that this was a poser. In his heart he was sick of Christmas: not of the dear and high event, the greatest in the memory of the world, which it records and embodies71, but the stale and wearisome Christmas of the Christmas presents, purchased in rage and bestowed72 in despair; the Christmas of Christmas fiction; the Christmas of heavy Christmas dinners and indigestions; the Christmas of all superfluity and surfeit73 and sentimentality; the Christmas of the Timminses and the Tiny Tims. But while he thought of these, by operation of the divine law which renders all things sensible by their opposites, he thought of the other kinds of Christmas which can never weary or disgust: the Christmas of the little children and the simple-hearted and the poor; and suddenly he addressed himself to the Easy Chair with unexpected and surprising courage.
"Why should that be so very difficult?" he demanded. "If you look at it rightly, Christmas is always full of inspiration; and songs as well as sermons will flow from it till time shall be no more. The trouble with us is that we think it is for the pleasure of opulent and elderly people, for whom there can be no pleasures, but only habits. They are used to having everything, and as joy dwells in novelty it has ceased to be for them in Christmas gifts and giving and all manner of Christmas conventions. But for the young to whom these things are new, and for the poor to whom they are rare, Christmas and Christmasing are sources of perennial74 happiness. All that you have to do is to guard yourself from growing rich and from growing old, and then the delight of Christmas is yours forever. It is not difficult; it is very simple; for even if years and riches come upon you in a literal way, you can by a little trying keep yourself young and poor in spirit. Then you can always rejoice with the innocent and riot with the destitute75.
"I once knew a father," the unreal editor continued, "a most doting76 and devoted77 father, who, when he bent over the beds of his children to bid them good-night, and found them 'high sorrowful and cloyed,' as the little ones are apt to be after a hard day's pleasure, used to bid them 'Think about Christmas.' If he offered this counsel on the night, say, of the 26th of December, and they had to look forward to a whole year before their hopes of consolation78 could possibly find fruition, they had (as they afterward79 confessed to him) a sense of fatuity80 if not of mocking in it. Even on the Fourth of July, after the last cracker81 had been fired and the last roman candle spent, they owned that they had never been able to think about Christmas to an extent that greatly assuaged82 their vague regrets. It was not till the following Thanksgiving that they succeeded in thinking about Christmas with anything like the entire cheerfulness expected of them."
"I don't see any application in this homily," said the Easy Chair, "or only an application disastrous83 to your imaginable postulate84 that Christmas is a beneficent and consolatory85 factor in our lives."
"That is because you have not allowed me to conclude," the unreal editor protested, when the Easy Chair cut in with,
"There is nothing I would so willingly allow you to do," and "laughed and shook" as if it had been "Rabelais's easy chair."
The unreal editor thought it best to ignore the untimely attempt at wit. "The difficulty in this case with both the father and the children was largely temperamental; but it was chiefly because of a defect in their way of thinking about Christmas. It was a very ancient error, by no means peculiar to this amiable86 family, and it consisted in thinking about Christmas with reference to one's self instead of others."
"Isn't that rather banal87?" the Easy Chair asked.
"Not at all banal," said the unreal editor, resisting an impulse to do the Easy Chair some sort of violence. At the same time he made his reflection that if preachers were criticised in that way to their faces there would shortly be very few saints left in the pulpit. He gave himself a few moments to recover his temper, and then he went on: "If Christmas means anything at all, it means anything but one's own pleasure. Up to the first Christmas Day the whole world had supposed that it could be happy selfishly, and its children still suppose so. But there is really no such thing as selfish, as personal happiness."
"Tolstoy," the Easy Chair noted88.
"Yes, Tolstoy," the unreal editor retorted. "He more than any other has brought us back to the knowledge of this truth which came into the world with Christmas, perhaps because he, more than any other, has tried to think and to live Christianity. When once you have got this vital truth into your mind, the whole universe is luminously89 filled with the possibilities of impersonal90, unselfish happiness. The joy of living is suddenly expanded to the dimensions of humanity, and you can go on taking your pleasure as long as there is one unfriended soul and body in the world.
"It is well to realize this at all times, but it is peculiarly fit to do so at Christmas-time, for it is in this truth that the worship of Christ begins. Now, too, is the best time to give the Divine Word form in deed, to translate love into charity. I do not mean only the material charity that expresses itself in turkeys and plum-puddings for the poor, but also that spiritual charity which takes thought how so to amend91 the sorrowful conditions of civilization that poverty, which is the antithesis92 of fraternity, shall abound93 less and less.
'Now is the time, now is the time,
Now is the hour of golden prime'
for asking one's self, not how much one has given in goods or moneys during the past year, but how much one has given in thought and will to remove forever the wrong and shame of hopeless need; and to consider what one may do in the coming year to help put the poor lastingly94 beyond the need of help.
"To despair of somehow, sometime doing this is to sin against the light of Christmas Day, to confess its ideal a delusion95, its practice a failure. If on no other day of all the three hundred and sixty-five, we must on this day renew our faith in justice, which is the highest mercy."
The Easy Chair no longer interrupted, and the unreal editor, having made his point, went on after the manner of preachers, when they are also editors, to make it over again, and to repeat himself pitilessly, unsparingly. He did not observe that the Easy Chair had shrunk forward until all its leathern seat was wrinkled and its carven top was bent over its old red back. When he stopped at last, the warehouse agent asked in whisper,
"What do you want done with it, sir?"
"Oh," said the unreal editor, "send it back to Franklin Square"; and then, with a sudden realization96 of the fact, he softly added, "Don't wake it."
There in Franklin Square, still dreaming, it was set up in the rear of the magazine, where it has become not only the place, but the stuff of dreams such as men are made of. From month to month, ever since, its reveries, its illusions, which some may call deliverances, have gone on with more and more a disposition97 to dramatize themselves. It has seemed to the occupant of the Easy Chair, at times, as if he had suffered with it some sort of land-change from a sole entity98 to a multiple personality in which his several selves conversed99 with one another, and came and went unbidden. At first, after a moment of question whether his imagination was not frequented by the phantoms100 of delight which in the flesh had formerly101 filled his place, whether the spirits which haunted him in it were not those of Mitchell, of Curtis, of Aldrich, he became satisfied from their multitude and nature that they were the subdivisions of his own ego102, and as such he has more and more frankly103 treated them.
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1
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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warehouse
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| n.仓库；vt.存入仓库 | |
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pathos
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| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
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travesty
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| n.歪曲，嘲弄，滑稽化 | |
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mimic
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| v.模仿，戏弄；n.模仿他人言行的人 | |
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abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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warehouses
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| 仓库，货栈( warehouse的名词复数 ) | |
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homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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feigned
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| a.假装的，不真诚的 | |
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rift
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| n.裂口，隙缝，切口；v.裂开，割开，渗入 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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gloss
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| n.光泽，光滑；虚饰；注释；vt.加光泽于；掩饰 | |
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19
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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exhale
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| v.呼气，散出，吐出，蒸发 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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animate
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| v.赋于生命，鼓励；adj.有生命的，有生气的 | |
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foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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holly
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| n.[植]冬青属灌木 | |
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hectic
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| adj.肺病的；消耗热的；发热的；闹哄哄的 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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earnings
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| n.工资收人；利润，利益，所得 | |
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lavishly
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| adv.慷慨地，大方地 | |
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incarnate
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| adj.化身的，人体化的，肉色的 | |
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allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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evasion
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| n.逃避，偷漏(税) | |
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temporized
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| v.敷衍( temporize的过去式和过去分词 )；拖延；顺应时势；暂时同意 | |
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pebble
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| n.卵石，小圆石 | |
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relish
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| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
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millennial
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| 一千年的，千福年的 | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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brazen
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| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
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tighten
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| v.(使)变紧；(使)绷紧 | |
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rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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expedients
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| n.应急有效的，权宜之计的( expedient的名词复数 ) | |
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millennium
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| n.一千年，千禧年；太平盛世 | |
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brotherhood
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| n.兄弟般的关系，手中情谊 | |
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vat
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| n.(=value added tax)增值税，大桶 | |
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vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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pessimism
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| n.悲观者，悲观主义者，厌世者 | |
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tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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fatuous
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| adj.愚昧的；昏庸的 | |
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personalities
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| n. 诽谤，（对某人容貌、性格等所进行的）人身攻击； 人身攻击；人格, 个性, 名人( personality的名词复数 ) | |
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idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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wasteful
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| adj.（造成）浪费的，挥霍的 | |
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accounting
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| n.会计，会计学，借贷对照表 | |
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corrupted
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| （使）败坏( corrupt的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）腐化； 引起（计算机文件等的）错误； 破坏 | |
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satire
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| n.讽刺，讽刺文学，讽刺作品 | |
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discord
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| n.不和，意见不合，争论，（音乐）不和谐 | |
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shams
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| 假象( sham的名词复数 )； 假货； 虚假的行为（或感情、言语等）； 假装…的人 | |
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eccentricity
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| n.古怪，反常，怪癖 | |
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unripe
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| adj.未成熟的；n.未成熟 | |
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abattoir
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| n.屠宰场，角斗场 | |
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noisome
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| adj.有害的，可厌的 | |
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automobiles
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| n.汽车( automobile的名词复数 ) | |
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automobile
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| n.汽车，机动车 | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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embodies
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| v.表现( embody的第三人称单数 )；象征；包括；包含 | |
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bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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surfeit
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| v.使饮食过度；n.(食物)过量，过度 | |
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perennial
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| adj.终年的；长久的 | |
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destitute
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| adj.缺乏的；穷困的 | |
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doting
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| adj.溺爱的，宠爱的 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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fatuity
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| n.愚蠢，愚昧 | |
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cracker
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| n.（无甜味的）薄脆饼干 | |
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assuaged
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| v.减轻( assuage的过去式和过去分词 )；缓和；平息；使安静 | |
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disastrous
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| adj.灾难性的，造成灾害的；极坏的，很糟的 | |
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postulate
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| n.假定，基本条件；vt.要求，假定 | |
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consolatory
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| adj.慰问的，可藉慰的 | |
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amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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banal
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| adj.陈腐的，平庸的 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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luminously
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| 发光的； 明亮的； 清楚的； 辉赫 | |
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impersonal
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| adj.无个人感情的，与个人无关的，非人称的 | |
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amend
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| vt.修改，修订，改进；n.[pl.]赔罪，赔偿 | |
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antithesis
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| n.对立；相对 | |
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abound
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| vi.大量存在；(in，with)充满，富于 | |
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lastingly
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| [医]有残留性，持久地，耐久地 | |
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delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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realization
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| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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entity
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| n.实体，独立存在体，实际存在物 | |
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conversed
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的过去式 ) | |
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phantoms
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| n.鬼怪，幽灵( phantom的名词复数 ) | |
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formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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ego
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| n.自我，自己，自尊 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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