And yet, what a bit of color they add to the life of any city, what a foil to its prosperity, its ease—what a fillip to the imagination of those who have any! Against carriages and autos and showy bursts of enthusiastic life, if there be such, they stand out at times with a vividness which makes the antithesis4 of their state seem many times more important than it really is. In the face of sickness, health is wonderful. In the face of cold, warmth is immensely significant. In the face of poverty, wealth is truly grandeur5 and may well strut6 and stride. And who is so obviously, so notoriously poor as this creature of the two signs, this perambulating pack-horse of an advertisement, this hopeless, decayed creature who, if he have but life enough to walk, will do very well as an invitation to buy.
He is such a biting commentary on life, in one sense, such a coarse, shabby jest in another, that we cannot help but think on him and the conditions which produce him. To send forth7 an an?mic, hollow-eyed, gaunt-bodied261 man carrying an announcement of a good dinner, for instance. Imagine. Or a cure-all. Or a beauty powder. Or a good suit of clothes. Or a sound pair of shoes. And these with their toes or their naked bodies all but exposed to the world. An overcoatless man advertising8 a warm overcoat in winter. One from whom all and even the possibility of joy had fled, displaying a notice of joy in the shape of a sign for a dance-hall, a theater, a moving picture even. The thick-witted thoughtlessness of the trade-vulgarian who could permit this!
But the eyes of them! The cold, red, and often wet hands! The torn hats with snow on them, the thin shoes that are soppy with snow or water. Is it not a biting commentary on the importance of the individual, as such, that in life he may be used in such a way as this, in a single short life, as a post upon which to hang things! And that in the face of all the wealth of the world—over-production! And that in the face of all the blather and pother anent the poor, and Christ, and mercy, and I know not what else!
I once protested to an artist friend who chanced to be sketching9 a line of these, carrying signs, that it was a pity from the individual’s point of view, as well as from that of society itself, that such things must be. But he did not agree with me. “Not at all,” he replied. “They are mentally and physically10 pointless, anyhow, aren’t they? They have no imagination, no strength any more, or they wouldn’t be carrying signs. Don’t you think that you are applying your noble emotions to their state? Why shouldn’t they be used? They262 haven’t your emotions—they haven’t any emotions, as a matter of fact, or very rudimentary ones, and such as they have they are applying to simpler, cheaper things than you do yours. Mostly they’re dirty and indifferent, believe me.”
I could not say that I wholly disagreed with him. At the same time, I could not say that I violently agreed with him. It is true that life does queer tricks with our emotions and quondam passions at times. The ones that are so very powerful this year, where are they next? At one time we are racked and torn and flayed11 and blown by emotions that at another find us quite dead, incapable12 of any response. All the nervous ambitions, as well as the circumstances by which fine emotions and moods are at one time generated, at another have been entirely13 dissipated. Betimes there is nothing left save a disjointed and weary frame or a wornout brain or nervous system incapable of emotions and disturbing moods.
Yet, granting the truth of this, what a way to use the image of the human race, I thought, the image of our old-time selves! Why degrade the likeness14 of the thing we once were and by which once we set so much store and then expect to raise man’s estimate of man? It is written: “Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord, thy God, in vain.” Why take the body of man in so shabby, so degrading a fashion? Why make a mockery of the body and mind of the human race, and then expect something superior of life? We talk of elevating the human race. Can we use ourselves as signs and then do that? It is entirely probable, of course, that the human race cannot be elevated. Very good. But if263 we dream of any such thing, what must such a sight do to the imagination of the world? What conception of the beauty and sweetness and dignity of life does it not aid to destroy? What lessons of hardness and self-preservation and indifference15 does it not teach? Does it not glorify16 health and strength and prosperity at the expense of every other quality? I think so. To be strong, to be well, to be prosperous in the face of the sandwich man—is there anywhere more of an anachronism?
I sometimes think that in our general life-classifications we neglect the individual, the exceptional individual, who is always sure to be everywhere, as readily at the bottom of society as at the top, as readily sandwiched between two glaring signs as anywhere else. It is quite all right to admit, for argument’s sake or our own peace of mind, that most of these men are dirty and worn and indifferent, and hence negligible; though it always seems silly to me to assume that a man is indifferent or negligible when he will pack a sign in the cold and snow in order to preserve himself. It is so easy for those of us who are comfortable to assume that the other man does not care, does not feel. Here he comes, though, carrying a sign. Why? To be carrying it because it makes no difference to him? Because he has no emotions? I don’t believe it. I could not believe it. And all the evidence I have personally taken has been to the contrary, decidedly so.
I remember seeing once, in the rush of the Christmas trade in New York City a few years ago, a score of these decidedly shabby and broken brethren carrying signs264 for the edification, allurement17 and information of the Christmas trade. They were strung out along Sixth Avenue from Twenty-third to Fourteenth Streets, and the messages which their billboards18 carried were various. I noticed that in the budding gayety of the time these men alone were practically hopeless, dull and gray. The air was fairly crackling with the suggestion of interest and happiness for some. People were hurrying hither and thither19, eager about their purchases. There were great van-loads of toys and fineries constantly being moved and transferred. Life seemed to say: “This is the season of gifts and affection,” but it obviously meant nothing to these men. I took a five-dollar bill and had it changed into half-dollars. I stopped before the first old wizened20 loiterer I met, his sign hanging like a cross from his gaunt shoulder, and before his unsuspecting eyes lifted the half-dollar. Who could be offering him a half-dollar? his eyes seemed indifferently to ask at first. Then a perfect eagle’s gleam flashed into them, old and dull as they were, and a claw-like hand reached for it. No thanks, no acknowledgment, no polite recognition—just grim realization21 that money, a whole half-dollar, was being given, and a physical, wholly animal determination to get it. What possibilities that half-dollar seemed to hold to that indifferent, unimaginative mind at that moment! What it suggested, apparently22, of possible comfort! Why? Because there was no imagination there? because life meant nothing? Not in that case, surely. A whole epic23 of failure and desire was written in that gleam—and we speak of them as emotionless.
The Sandwich Man
265 I went further with my half-dollars. I learned what a half-dollar means to a man in a sandwich sign in the cold in winter. There was no case in which the eagerness, the surprise, the astonishment24 was not interesting if not pathetic. They were not expecting the Christmas holidays to offer them any suggestion of remembrance. It did not seem real that any one should stop and give them anything. Yet here was I, and apparently their wildest anticipations25 were outreached.
I cannot help thinking, as I close, of an old gray-haired Irish gentleman—for that he was, by every mark of refinement26 of feature and intelligence of eye—who had come so low as to be the perambulating representative of a restaurant, with a double sign strapped27 over his shoulders. His hair was thin, his face pale, his body obviously undernourished, but he carried himself with dignity and undisturbed resignation, though he must have been deeply conscious of his state. I saw him for a number of days during the winter season, walking up and down the west side of Sixth Avenue, and then I saw him no more. But during that time a sense of what it means to accept the slings28 and arrows of fortune with fortitude29 and equanimity30 burned itself deeply into my mind. He was so much better than that which he was compelled to do. He walked so patiently to and fro, his eyes sometimes closed, his lips repeating something. I wondered, what? Whether in the depths of this slough31 of his despond this man had not risen superior to his state, his mind on those high cold verities32 which after all are above the pointless little existence that we lead here, this existence with its petty266 gauds and its pretty and petty vanities. I hope so. But I do know that a stinging sense of the slings and arrows of fortune overcame me, never to be eradicated33, and I quoted to myself that arresting, forceful inquiry34 of one William Shakespeare:
“For who would bear the whip and scorns of time,
The oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,
That patient merit of the unworthy takes.
Who would fardels bear,
Not you, you think? Boast not. For after all, who shall say what a day or a year or a lifetime may not bring forth? And with Whatley cannot we all say: “There, but for the grace of God, go I”—a beggar, an outcast of fortune, a sandwich man, no less, to whom the meaning of life is that he shall be a foil to comfort, a contrast to prosperity, a commentary on health.
To be the antithesis of what life would prefer to be—what could be more degraded than that?
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1
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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pathos
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| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
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antithesis
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| n.对立；相对 | |
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grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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6
strut
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| v.肿胀，鼓起；大摇大摆地走；炫耀；支撑；撑开；n.高视阔步；支柱，撑杆 | |
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7
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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advertising
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| n.广告业；广告活动 a.广告的；广告业务的 | |
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9
sketching
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| n.草图 | |
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10
physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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11
flayed
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| v.痛打( flay的过去式和过去分词 )；把…打得皮开肉绽；剥（通常指动物）的皮；严厉批评 | |
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12
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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13
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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14
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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15
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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16
glorify
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| vt.颂扬，赞美，使增光，美化 | |
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17
allurement
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| n.诱惑物 | |
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18
billboards
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| n.广告牌( billboard的名词复数 ) | |
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19
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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wizened
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| adj.凋谢的；枯槁的 | |
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21
realization
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| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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23
epic
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| n.史诗，叙事诗；adj.史诗般的，壮丽的 | |
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24
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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25
anticipations
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| 预期( anticipation的名词复数 )； 预测； （信托财产收益的）预支； 预期的事物 | |
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refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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strapped
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| adj.用皮带捆住的，用皮带装饰的；身无分文的；缺钱；手头紧v.用皮带捆扎(strap的过去式和过去分词)；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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28
slings
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| 抛( sling的第三人称单数 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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29
fortitude
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| n.坚忍不拔；刚毅 | |
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30
equanimity
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| n.沉着，镇定 | |
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31
slough
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| v.蜕皮，脱落，抛弃 | |
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32
verities
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| n.真实( verity的名词复数 )；事实；真理；真实的陈述 | |
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33
eradicated
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| 画着根的 | |
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34
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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35
pangs
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| 突然的剧痛( pang的名词复数 )； 悲痛 | |
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36
insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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37
spurns
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| v.一脚踢开，拒绝接受( spurn的第三人称单数 ) | |
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38
grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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