It is the desire of every ambitious soul to, enter Literature by the front door, and the few who have patience and money enough to live without the aid of the beckoning1 Helen may enter there. But a side entrance is the destiny of most aspirants2, even those with the golden key of genius, and they are a long time in working their way to be seen coming out, of the front entrance. It is true that a man can attract considerable and immediate3 attention by trying to effect an entrance through the sewer4, but he seldom gains the respect of the public whom he interests, any more than an exhibitor of fireworks gains the reputation of an artist that is accorded to the painter of a good picture.
Philip was waiting at the front door, with his essays and his prose symphonies and his satirical novel--the satire5 of a young man is apt to be very bitter--but it was as tightly shut against him as if a publisher and not the muse6 of literature kept the door.
There was a fellow-boarder with Philip, whose acquaintance he had made at the common table in the basement, who appeared to be free of the world of letters and art. He was an alert, compact, neatly7 dressed little fellow, who had apparently8 improved every one of his twenty-eight years in the study of life, in gaining assurance and confidence in himself, and also presented himself as one who knew the nether9 world completely but was not of it. He would have said of himself that he knew it profoundly, that he frequented it for "material," but that his home was in another sphere. The impression was that he belonged among those brilliant guerrillas of both sexes, in the border-land of art and society, who lived daintily and talked about life with unconventional freedom. Slight in figure, with very black hair, and eyes of cloudy gray, an olive complexion10, and features trained to an immobility proof against emotion or surprise, the whole poised11 as we would say in the act of being gentlemanly, it is needless to say that he took himself seriously. His readiness, self-confidence, cocksureness, Philip thought all expressed in his name--Olin Brad.
Mr. Brad was not a Bohemian--that is, not at all a Bohemian of the recognized type. His fashionable dress, closely trimmed hair, and dainty boots took him out of that class. He belonged to the new order, which seems to have come in with modern journalism12--that is, Bohemian in principle, but of the manners and apparel of the favored of fortune. Mr. Brad was undoubtedly13 clever, and was down as a bright young man in the list of those who employed talent which was not dulled by conscientious14 scruples15. He had stood well in college, during three years in Europe he had picked up two or three languages, dissipated his remaining small fortune, acquired expensive tastes, and knowledge, both esoteric and exoteric, that was valuable to him in his present occupation. Returning home fully16 equipped for a modern literary career, and finding after some bitter experience that his accomplishments17 were not taken or paid for at their real value by the caterers for intellectual New York, he had dropped into congenial society on the staff of the Daily Spectrum19, a mighty20 engine of public opinion, which scattered21 about the city and adjacent territory a million of copies, as prodigally22 as if they had been auctioneers' announcements. Fastidious people who did not read it gave it a bad name, not recognizing the classic and heroic attitude of those engaged in pitchforking up and turning over the muck of the Augean stables under the pretense23 of cleaning them.
Mr. Brad had a Socratic contempt for this sort of fault-finding. It was answer enough to say, "It pays. The people like it or they wouldn't buy it. It commands the best talent in the market and can afford to pay for it; even clergymen like to appear in its columns--they say it's a providential chance to reach the masses. And look at the 'Morning GooGoo' (this was his nickname for one of the older dailies), it couldn't pay its paper bills if it hadn't such a small circulation."
Mr. Brad, however, was not one of the editors, though the acceptance of an occasional short editorial, sufficiently24 piquant25 and impudent26 and vivid in language--to suit, had given him hopes. He was salaried, but under orders for special service, and was always in the hope that the execution of each new assignment would bring him into popular notice, which would mean an advance of position and pay.
Philip was impressed with the ready talent, the adaptable27 talent, and the facility of this accomplished28 journalist, and as their acquaintance improved he was let into many of the secrets of success in the profession.
"It isn't an easy thing," said Mr. Brad, "to cater18 to a public that gets tired of anything in about three days. But it is just as well satisfied with a contradiction as with the original statement. It calls both news. You have to watch out and see what the people want, and give it to 'em. It is something like the purveying29 of the manufacturers and the dry-goods jobber30 for the changing trade in fashions; only the newspaper has the advantage that it can turn a somersault every day and not have any useless stock left on hand.
"The public hasn't any memory, or, if it has, this whirligig process destroys it. What it will not submit to is the lack of a daily surprise. Keep that in your mind and you can make a popular newspaper. Only," continued Mr. Brad, reflectively, "you've got to hit a lot of different tastes."
"You'd laugh," this artist in emotions went on, after a little pause, "at some of my assignments. There was a run awhile ago on elopements, and my assignment was to have one every Monday morning. The girl must always be lovely and refined and moving in the best society; elopement with the coachman preferred, varied31 with a teacher in a Sunday-school. Invented? Not always. It was surprising how many you could find ready made, if you were on the watch. I got into the habit of locating them in the interior of Pennsylvania as the safest place, though Jersey32 seemed equally probable to the public. Did I never get caught? That made it all the more lively and interesting. Denials, affidavits33, elaborate explanations, two sides to any question; if it was too hot, I could change the name and shift the scene to a still more obscure town. Or it could be laid to the zeal34 of a local reporter, who could give the most ingenious reasons for his story. Once I worked one of those imaginary reporters up into such prominence35 for his clever astuteness36 that my boss was taken in, and asked me to send for him and give him a show on the paper.
"Oh, yes, we have to keep up the domestic side. A paper will not go unless the women like it. One of the assignments I liked was 'Sayings of Our Little Ones.' This was for every Tuesday morning. Not more than half a column. These always got copied by the country press solid. It is really surprising how many bright things you can make children of five and six years say if you give your mind to it. The boss said that I overdid37 it sometimes and made them too bright instead of 'just cunning.'
"'Psychological Study of Children' had a great run. This is the age of science. Same with animals, astronomy--anything. If the public wants science, the papers will give it science.
"After all, the best hold for a lasting38 sensation is an attack upon some charity or public institution; show up the abuses, and get all the sentimentalists on your side. The paper gets sympathy for its fearlessness in serving the public interests. It is always easy to find plenty of testimony39 from ill-used convicts and grumbling40 pensioners41."
Undoubtedly Olin Brad was a clever fellow, uncommonly43 well read in the surface literatures of foreign origin, and had a keen interest in what he called the metaphysics of his own time. He had many good qualities, among them friendliness44 towards men and women struggling like himself to get up the ladder, and he laid aside all jealousy45 when he advised Philip to try his hand at some practical work on the Spectrum. What puzzled Philip was that this fabricator of "stories" for the newspaper should call himself a "realist." The "story," it need hardly be explained, is newspaper slang for any incident, true or invented, that is worked up for dramatic effect. To state the plain facts as they occurred, or might have occurred, and as they could actually be seen by a competent observer, would not make a story. The writer must put in color, and idealize the scene and the people engaged in it, he must invent dramatic circumstances and positions and language, so as to produce a "picture." And this picture, embroidered46 on a commonplace incident, has got the name of "news." The thread of fact in this glittering web the reader must pick out by his own wits, assisted by his memory of what things usually are. And the public likes these stories much better than the unadorned report of facts. It is accustomed to this view of life, so much so that it fancies it never knew what war was, or what a battle was, until the novelists began to report them.
Mr. Brad was in the story stage of his evolution as a writer. His light facility in it had its attraction for Philip, but down deep in his nature he felt and the impression was deepened by watching the career of several bright young men and women on the press--that indulgence in it would result in such intellectual dishonesty as to destroy the power of producing fiction that should be true to life. He was so impressed by the ability and manifold accomplishments of Mr. Brad that he thought it a pity for him to travel that road, and one day he asked him why he did not go in for literature.
"Literature!" exclaimed Mr. Brad, with some irritation47; "I starved on literature for a year. Who does live on it, till he gets beyond the necessity of depending on it? There is a lot of humbug48 talked about it. You can't do anything till you get your name up. Some day I will make a hit, and everybody will ask, 'Who is this daring, clever Olin Brad?' Then I can get readers for anything I choose to write. Look at Champ Lawson. He can't write correct English, he never will, he uses picturesque49 words in a connection that makes you doubt if he knows what they mean. But he did a dare-devil thing picturesquely50, and now the publishers are at his feet. When I met him the other day he affected51 to be bored with so much attention, and wished he had stuck to the livery-stable. He began at seventeen by reporting a runaway52 from the point of view of the hostler."
"Well," said Philip, "isn't it quite in the line of the new movement that we should have an introspective hostler, who perhaps obeys Sir Philip Sidney's advice, 'Look into your heart and write'? I chanced the other night in a company of the unconventional and illuminated53, the 'poster' set in literature and art, wild-eyed and anaemic young women and intensely languid, 'nil54 admirari' young men, the most advanced products of the studios and of journalism. It was a very interesting conclave55. Its declared motto was, 'We don't read, we write.' And the members were on a constant strain to say something brilliant, epigrammatic, original. The person who produced the most outre sentiment was called 'strong.' The women especially liked no writing that was not 'strong.' The strongest man in the company, and adored by the women, was the poet-artist Courci Cleves, who always seems to have walked straight out of a fashion-plate, much deferred57 to in this set, which affects to defer56 to nothing, and a thing of beauty in the theatre lobbies. Mr. Cleves gained much applause for his well-considered wish that all that has been written in the world, all books and libraries, could be destroyed, so as to give a chance to the new men and the fresh ideas of the new era."
"My dear sir," said Brad, who did not like this caricature of his friends, "you don't make any allowance for the eccentricities58 of genius."
"You would hit it nearer if you said I didn't make allowance for the eccentricities without genius," retorted Philip.
"Well," replied Mr. Brad, taking his leave, "you don't understand your world. You go your own way and see where you will come out."
And when Philip reflected on it, he wondered if it were not rash to offend those who had the public ear, and did up the personals and minor59 criticisms for the current prints. He was evidently out of view. No magazine paper of his had gained the slightest notice from these sublimated60 beings, who discovered a new genius every month.
A few nights after this conversation Mr. Brad was in uncommon42 spirits at dinner.
"Anything special turned up?" asked Philip.
"Oh, nothing much. I've thrown away the chance of the biggest kind of a novel of American life. Only it wouldn't keep. You look in the Spectrum tomorrow morning. You'll see something interesting."
"Is it a--" and Philip's incredulous expression supplied the word.
"No, not a bit. And the public is going to be deceived this time, sure, expecting a fake. You know Mavick?"
"I've heard of him--the operator, a millionaire."
"A good many times. Used to be minister or consul61 or something at Rome. A great swell62. It's about his daughter, Evelyn, a stunning63 girl about sixteen or seventeen--not out yet."
"I hope it's no scandal."
"No, no; she's all right. It's the way she's brought up--shows what we've come to. They say she's the biggest heiress in America and a raving64 beauty, the only child. She has been brought up like the Kohinoor, never out of somebody's sight. She has never been alone one minute since she was born. Had three nurses, and it was the business of one of them, in turn, to keep an eye on her. Just think of that. Never was out of the sight of somebody in her life. Has two maids now--always one in the room, night and day."
"What for?"
"Why, the parents are afraid she'll be kidnapped, and held for a big ransom65. No, I never saw her, but I've got the thing down to a dot. Wouldn't I like to interview her, though, get her story, how the world looks to her. Under surveillance for sixteen years! The 'Prisoner of Chillon' is nothing to it for romance."
"Just the facts are enough, I should say."
"Yes, facts make a good basis, sometimes. I've got 'em all in, but of course I've worked the thing up for all it is worth. You'll see. I kept it one day to try and get a photograph. We've got the house and Mavick, but the girl's can't be found, and it isn't safe to wait. We are going to blow it out tomorrow morning."
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1
beckoning
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| adj.引诱人的，令人心动的v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的现在分词 ) | |
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aspirants
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| n.有志向或渴望获得…的人( aspirant的名词复数 )v.渴望的，有抱负的，追求名誉或地位的( aspirant的第三人称单数 )；有志向或渴望获得…的人 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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sewer
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| n.排水沟，下水道 | |
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satire
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| n.讽刺，讽刺文学，讽刺作品 | |
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muse
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| n.缪斯（希腊神话中的女神），创作灵感 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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nether
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| adj.下部的，下面的；n.阴间；下层社会 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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journalism
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| n.新闻工作，报业 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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conscientious
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| adj.审慎正直的，认真的，本着良心的 | |
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scruples
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| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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accomplishments
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| n.造诣；完成( accomplishment的名词复数 )；技能；成绩；成就 | |
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cater
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| vi.(for/to)满足，迎合；(for)提供饮食及服务 | |
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spectrum
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| n.谱，光谱，频谱；范围，幅度，系列 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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prodigally
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| adv.浪费地，丰饶地 | |
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pretense
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| n.矫饰，做作，借口 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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piquant
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| adj.辛辣的，开胃的，令人兴奋的 | |
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impudent
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| adj.鲁莽的，卑鄙的，厚颜无耻的 | |
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adaptable
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| adj.能适应的，适应性强的，可改编的 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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purveying
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| v.提供，供应( purvey的现在分词 ) | |
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jobber
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| n.批发商；(股票买卖)经纪人；做零工的人 | |
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varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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jersey
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| n.运动衫 | |
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affidavits
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| n.宣誓书，（经陈述者宣誓在法律上可采作证据的）书面陈述( affidavit的名词复数 ) | |
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zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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prominence
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| n.突出；显著；杰出；重要 | |
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astuteness
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| n.敏锐；精明；机敏 | |
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overdid
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| v.做得过分( overdo的过去式 )；太夸张；把…煮得太久；（工作等）过度 | |
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lasting
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| adj.永久的，永恒的；vbl.持续，维持 | |
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testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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grumbling
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| adj. 喃喃鸣不平的, 出怨言的 | |
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pensioners
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| n.领取退休、养老金或抚恤金的人( pensioner的名词复数 ) | |
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uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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friendliness
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| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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humbug
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| n.花招，谎话，欺骗 | |
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49
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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picturesquely
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51
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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runaway
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| n.逃走的人，逃亡，亡命者；adj.逃亡的，逃走的 | |
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illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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54
nil
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| n.无，全无，零 | |
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55
conclave
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| n.秘密会议，红衣主教团 | |
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56
defer
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| vt.推迟，拖延；vi.(to)遵从，听从，服从 | |
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57
deferred
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| adj.延期的，缓召的v.拖延，延缓，推迟( defer的过去式和过去分词 )；服从某人的意愿，遵从 | |
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58
eccentricities
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| n.古怪行为( eccentricity的名词复数 )；反常；怪癖 | |
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59
minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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60
sublimated
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| v.（使某物质）升华( sublimate的过去式和过去分词 )；使净化；纯化 | |
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61
consul
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| n.领事；执政官 | |
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62
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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63
stunning
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| adj.极好的；使人晕倒的 | |
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64
raving
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| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
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ransom
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| n.赎金，赎身；v.赎回，解救 | |
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