The gods, lying beside their nectar on 'Lympus and peeping over the edge of the cliff, perceive a difference in cities. Although it would seem that to their vision towns must appear as large or small ant-hills without special characteristics, yet it is not so. Studying the habits of ants frm so great a height should be but a mild diversion when coupled with the soft drink that mythology1 tells us is their only solace2. But doubtless they have amused themselves by the comparison of villages and towns; and it will be no news to them (nor, perhaps, to many mortals), that in one particularity New York stands unique among the cities of the world. This shall be the theme of a little story addressed to the man who sits smoking with his Sabbath-slippered feet on another chair, and to the woman who snatches the paper for a moment while boiling greens or a narcotized baby leaves her free. With these I love to sit upon the ground and tell sad stories of the death of Kings.
New York City is inhabited by 4,000,000 mysterious strangers; thus beating Bird Centre by three millions and half a dozen nine's. They came here in various ways and for many reasons - Hendrik Hudson, the art schools, green goods, the stork3, the annual dressmakers' convention, the Pennsylvania Railroad, love of money, the stage, cheap excursion rates, brains, personal column ads., heavy walking shoes, ambition, freight trains - all these have had a hand in making up the population.
But every man Jack4 when he first sets foot on the stones of Manhattan has got to fight. He has got to fight at once until either he or his adversary5 wins. There is no resting between rounds, for there are no rounds. It is slugging from the first. It is a fight to a finish.
Your opponent is the City. You must do battle with it from the time the ferry-boat lands you on the island until either it is yours or it has conquered you. It is the same whether you have a million in your pocket or only the price of a week's lodging6.
The battle is to decide whether you shall become a New Yorker or turn the rankest outlander and Philistine7. You must be one or the other. You cannot remain neutral. You must be for or against - lover or enemy - bosom8 friend or outcast. And, oh, the city is a general in the ring. Not only by blows does it seek to subdue9 you. It woos you to its heart with the subtlety10 of a siren. It is a combination of Delilah, green Chartreuse, Beethoven, chloral and John L. in his best days.
In other cities you may wander and abide11 as a stranger man as long as you please. You may live in Chicago until your hair whitens, and be a citizen and still prate12 of beans if Boston mothered you, and without rebuke13. You may become a civic14 pillar in any other town but Knickerbocker's, and all the time publicly sneering15 at its buildings, comparing them with the architecture of Colonel Telfair's residence in Jackson, Miss., whence you hail, and you will not be set upon. But in New York you must be either a New Yorker or an invader16 of a modern Troy, concealed17 in the wooden horse of your conceited18 provincialism. And this dreary19 preamble20 is only to introduce to you the unimportant figures of William and Jack.
They came out of the West together, where they had been friends. They came to dig their fortunes out of the big city.
Father Knickerbocker met them at the ferry, giving one a right-hander on the nose and the other an upper-cut with his left, just to let them know that the fight was on.
William was for business; Jack was for Art. Both were young and ambitious; so they countered and clinched21. I think they were from Nebraska or possibly Missouri or Minnesota. Anyhow, they were out for success and scraps22 and scads, and they tackled the city like two Lochinvars with brass23 knucks and a pull at the City Hall.
Four years afterward24 William and Jack met at luncheon25. The business man blew in like a March wind, hurled26 his silk hat at a waiter, dropped into the chair that was pushed under him, seized the bill of fare, and had ordered as far as cheese before the artist had time to do more than nod. After the nod a humorous smile came into his eyes.
"Billy," he said, "you're done for. The city has gobbled you up. It has taken you and cut you to its pattern and stamped you with its brand. You are so nearly like ten thousand men I have seen to-day that you couldn't be picked out from them if it weren't for your laundry marks."
"Camembert," finished William. "What's that? Oh, you've still got your hammer out for New York, have you? Well, little old Noisyville-on-the-Subway is good enough for me. It's giving me mine. And, say, I used to think the West was the whole round world - only slightly flattened27 at the poles whenever Bryan ran. I used to yell myself hoarse28 about the free expense, and hang my hat on the horizon, and say cutting things in the grocery to little soap drummers from the East. But I'd never seen New York, then, Jack. Me for it from the rathskellers up. Sixth Avenue is the West to me now. Have you heard this fellow Crusoe sing? The desert isle29 for him, I say, but my wife made me go. Give me May Irwin or E. S. Willard any time."
"Poor Billy," said the artist, delicately fingering a cigarette. "You remember, when we were on our way to the East how we talked about this great, wonderful city, and how we meant to conquer it and never let it get the best of us? We were going to be just the same fellows we had always been, and never let it master us. It has downed you, old man. You have changed from a maverick30 into a butterick."
"Don't see exactly what you are driving at," said William. "I don't wear an alpaca coat with blue trousers and a seersucker vest on dress occasions, like I used to do at home. You talk about being cut to a pattern - well, ain't the pattern all right? When you're in Rome you've got to do as the Dagoes do. This town seems to me to have other alleged31 metropolises32 skinned to flag stations. According to the railroad schedule I've got in mind, Chicago and Saint Jo and Paris, France, are asterisk33 stops - which means you wave a red flag and get on every other Tuesday. I like this little suburb of Tarrytown-on-the-Hudson. There's something or somebody doing all the time. I'm clearing $8,000 a year selling automatic pumps, and I'm living like kings-up. Why, yesterday, I was introduced to John W. Gates. I took an auto34 ride with a wine agent's sister. I saw two men run over by a street car, and I seen Edna May play in the evening. Talk about the West, why, the other night I woke everybody up in the hotel hollaring. I dreamed I was walking on a board sidewalk in Oshkosh. What have you got against this town, Jack? There's only one thing in it that I don't care for, and that's a ferryboat."
The artist gazed dreamily at the cartridge35 paper on the wall. "This town," said he, "is a leech36. It drains the blood of the country. Whoever comes to it accepts a challenge to a duel37. Abandoning the figure of the leech, it is a juggernaut, a Moloch, a monster to which the innocence38, the genius, and the beauty of the land must pay tribute. Hand to hand every newcomer must struggle with the leviathan. You've lost, Billy. It shall never conquer me. I hate it as one hates sin or pestilence39 or - the color work in a ten-cent magazine. I despise its very vastness and power. It has the poorest millionaires, the littlest great men, the lowest skyscrapers40, the dolefulest pleasures of any town I ever saw. It has caught you, old man, but I will never run beside its chariot wheels. It glosses41 itself as the Chinaman glosses his collars. Give me the domestic finish. I could stand a town ruled by wealth or one ruled by an aristocracy; but this is one controlled by its lowest ingredients. Claiming culture, it is the crudest; asseverating42 its pre-eminence, it is the basest; denying all outside values and virtue43, it is the narrowest. Give me the pure and the open heart of the West country. I would go back there to-morrow if I could."
"Don't you like this filet44 mgnon?" said William. "Shucks, now, what's the use to knock the town! It's the greatest ever. I couldn't sell one automatic pump between Harrisburg and Tommy O'Keefe's saloon, in Sacramento, where I sell twenty here. And have you seen Sara Bernardt in 'Andrew Mack' yet?"
"The town's got you, Billy," said Jack.
"All right," said William. "I'm going to buy a cottage on Lake Ronkonkoma next summer."
At midnight Jack raised his window and sat close to it. He caught his breath at what he saw, though he had seen and felt it a hundred times.
Far below and around lay the city like a ragged45 purple dream. The irregular houses were like the broken exteriors46 of cliffs lining47 deep gulches48 and winding49 streams. Some were mountainous; some lay in long, desert canons. Such was the background of the wonderful, cruel, enchanting50, bewildering, fatal, great city. But into this background were cut myriads51 of brilliant parallelograms and circles and squares through which glowed many colored lights. And out of the violet and purple depths ascended52 like the city's soul sounds and odors and thrills that make up the civic body. There arose the breath of gaiety unrestrained, of love, of hate, of all the passions that man can know. There below him lay all things, good or bad, that can be brought from the four corners of the earth to instruct, please, thrill, enrich, despoil53, elevate, cast down, nurture54 or kill. Thus the flavor of it came up to him and went into his blood.
There was a knock on his door. A telegram had come for him. It came from the West, and these were its words:
"Come back and the answer will be yes. "DOLLY."
He kept the boy waiting ten minutes, and then wrote the reply: "Impossible to leave here at present." Then he sat at the window again and let the city put its cup of mandragora to his lips again.
After all it isn't a story; but I wanted to know which one of the heroes won the battle against the city. So I went to a very learned friend and laid the case before him. What he said was: "Please don't bother me; I have Christmas presents to buy."
So there it rests; and you will have to decide for yourself.
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1
mythology
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| n.神话，神话学，神话集 | |
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solace
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| n.安慰；v.使快乐；vt.安慰(物)，缓和 | |
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stork
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| n.鹳 | |
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jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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adversary
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| adj.敌手，对手 | |
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lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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philistine
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| n.庸俗的人；adj.市侩的，庸俗的 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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subdue
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| vt.制服，使顺从，征服；抑制，克制 | |
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subtlety
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| n.微妙，敏锐，精巧；微妙之处，细微的区别 | |
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abide
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| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
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prate
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| v.瞎扯，胡说 | |
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rebuke
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| v.指责，非难，斥责 [反]praise | |
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civic
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| adj.城市的，都市的，市民的，公民的 | |
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sneering
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| 嘲笑的，轻蔑的 | |
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invader
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| n.侵略者，侵犯者，入侵者 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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conceited
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| adj.自负的，骄傲自满的 | |
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dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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preamble
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| n.前言；序文 | |
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clinched
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| v.（尤指两人）互相紧紧抱[扭]住( clinch的过去式和过去分词 )；解决（争端、交易），达成（协议） | |
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scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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flattened
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| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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isle
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| n.小岛，岛 | |
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maverick
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| adj.特立独行的；不遵守传统的；n.持异议者，自行其是者 | |
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alleged
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| a.被指控的，嫌疑的 | |
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metropolises
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| n.一国的主要城市（不一定是首都）( metropolis的名词复数 )；中心；大都会；大城市 | |
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asterisk
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| n.星号，星标 | |
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auto
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| n.(=automobile)(口语)汽车 | |
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cartridge
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| n.弹壳，弹药筒；(装磁带等的)盒子 | |
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leech
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| n.水蛭，吸血鬼，榨取他人利益的人；vt.以水蛭吸血；vi.依附于别人 | |
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duel
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| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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pestilence
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| n.瘟疫 | |
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skyscrapers
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| n.摩天大楼 | |
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glosses
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| n.（页末或书后的）注释( gloss的名词复数 )；（表面的）光滑；虚假的外表；用以产生光泽的物质v.注解( gloss的第三人称单数 )；掩饰（错误）；粉饰；把…搪塞过去 | |
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asseverating
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| v.郑重声明，断言( asseverate的现在分词 ) | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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filet
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| n.肉片；鱼片 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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exteriors
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| n.外面( exterior的名词复数 )；外貌；户外景色图 | |
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lining
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| n.衬里，衬料 | |
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gulches
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| n.峡谷( gulch的名词复数 ) | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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50
enchanting
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| a.讨人喜欢的 | |
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myriads
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| n.无数，极大数量( myriad的名词复数 ) | |
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52
ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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53
despoil
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| v.夺取，抢夺 | |
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nurture
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| n.养育，照顾，教育；滋养，营养品；vt.养育，给与营养物，教养，扶持 | |
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