crome yellow(克罗姆·耶娄)-第9章
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Denis； who got up hurriedly and with some embarrassment as he came
into the room。
〃Do go on； do go on；〃 said Mr。 Barbecue…Smith。 〃I am very fond of
music。〃
〃Then I couldn't possibly go on；〃 Denis replied。 〃I only make
noises。〃
There was a silence。 Mr。 Barbecue…Smith stood with his back to the
hearth； warming himself at the memory of last winter's fires。 He could not
control his interior satisfaction； but still went on smiling to himself。 At
last he turned to Denis。
〃You write；〃 he asked； 〃don't you？〃
〃Well； yesa little； you know。〃
〃How many words do you find you can write in an hour？〃
〃I don't think I've ever counted。〃
〃Oh； you ought to； you ought to。 It's most important。〃
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Denis exercised his memory。 〃When I'm in good form；〃 he said； 〃I
fancy I do a twelve…hundred…word review in about four hours。 But
sometimes it takes me much longer。〃
Mr。 Barbecue…Smith nodded。 〃Yes； three hundred words an hour at
your best。〃 He walked out into the middle of the room； turned round on
his heels； and confronted Denis again。 〃Guess how many words I wrote
this evening between five and half…past seven。〃
〃I can't imagine。〃
〃No； but you must guess。 Between five and half…past seven that's
two and a half hours。〃
〃Twelve hundred words；〃 Denis hazarded。
〃No； no； no。〃 Mr。 Barbecue…Smith's expanded face shone with gaiety。
〃Try again。〃
〃Fifteen hundred。〃
〃No。〃
〃I give it up；〃 said Denis。 He found he couldn't summon up much
interest in Mr。 Barbecue…Smith's writing。
〃Well； I'll tell you。 Three thousand eight hundred。〃
Denis opened his eyes。 〃You must get a lot done in a day；〃 he said。
Mr。 Barbecue…Smith suddenly became extremely confidential。 He
pulled up a stool to the side of Denis's arm…chair； sat down in it； and began
to talk softly and rapidly。
〃Listen to me；〃 he said； laying his hand on Denis's sleeve。 〃You want
to make your living by writing； you're young； you're inexperienced。 Let
me give you a little sound advice。〃
What was the fellow going to do？ Denis wondered： give him an
introduction to the editor of 〃John o' London's Weekly〃； or tell him where
he could sell a light middle for seven guineas？ Mr。 Barbecue…Smith
patted his arm several times and went on。
〃The secret of writing；〃 he said； breathing it into the young man's ear
〃the secret of writing is Inspiration。〃
Denis looked at him in astonishment。
〃Inspiration。。。〃 Mr。 Barbecue…Smith repeated。
〃You mean the native wood…note business？〃
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Mr。 Barbecue…Smith nodded。
〃Oh； then I entirely agree with you；〃 said Denis。 〃But what if one
hasn't got Inspiration？〃
〃That was precisely the question I was waiting for；〃 said Mr。
Barbecue…Smith。 〃You ask me what one should do if one hasn't got
Inspiration。 I answer： you have Inspiration； everyone has Inspiration。
It's simply a question of getting it to function。〃
The clock struck eight。 There was no sign of any of the other guests；
everybody was always late at Crome。 Mr。 Barbecue…Smith went on。
〃That's my secret；〃 he said。 〃I give it you freely。〃 （Denis made a
suitably grateful murmur and grimace。） 〃I'll help you to find your
Inspiration； because I don't like to see a nice； steady young man like you
exhausting his vitality and wasting the best years of his life in a grinding
intellectual labour that could be completely obviated by Inspiration。 I did
it myself； so I know what it's like。 Up till the time I was thirty…eight I
was a writer like youa writer without Inspiration。 All I wrote I
squeezed out of myself by sheer hard work。 Why； in those days I was
never able to do more than six…fifty words an hour； and what's more； I
often didn't sell what I wrote。〃 He sighed。 〃We artists；〃 he said
parenthetically； 〃we intellectuals aren't much appreciated here in
England。〃 Denis wondered if there was any method； consistent； of
course； with politeness； by which he could dissociate himself from Mr。
Barbecue…Smith's 〃we。〃 There was none； and besides； it was too late
now； for Mr。 Barbecue…Smith was once more pursuing the tenor of his
discourse。
〃At thirty…eight I was a poor； struggling； tired； overworked； unknown
journalist。 Now； at fifty。。。〃 He paused modestly and made a little
gesture； moving his fat hands outwards； away from one another； and
expanding his fingers as though in demonstration。 He was exhibiting
himself。 Denis thought of that advertisement of Nestle's milkthe two
cats on the wall； under the moon； one black and thin； the other white； sleek；
and fat。 Before Inspiration and after。
〃Inspiration has made the difference；〃 said Mr。 Barbecue…Smith
solemnly。 〃It came quite suddenlylike a gentle dew from heaven。〃 He
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lifted his hand and let it fall back on to his knee to indicate the descent of
the dew。 〃It was one evening。 I was writing my first little book about
the Conduct of Life'Humble Heroisms'。 You may have read it； it has
been a comfortat least I hope and think soa comfort to many thousands。
I was in the middle of the second chapter； and I was stuck。 Fatigue；
overworkI had only written a hundred words in the last hour； and I could
get no further。 I sat biting the end of my pen and looking at the electric
light； which hung above my table； a little above and in front of me。〃 He
indicated the position of the lamp with elaborate care。 〃Have you ever
looked at a bright light intently for a long time？〃 he asked； turning to
Denis。 Denis didn't think he had。 〃You can hypnotise yourself that way；〃
Mr。 Barbecue…Smith went on。
The gong sounded in a terrific crescendo from the hall。 Still no sign
of the others。 Denis was horribly hungry。
〃That's what happened to me；〃 said Mr。 Barbecue…Smith。 〃I was
hypnotised。 I lost consciousness like that。〃 He snapped his fingers。
〃When I came to； I found that it was past midnight； and I had written four
thousand words。 Four thousand；〃 he repeated； opening his mouth very
wide on the 〃ou〃 of thousand。 〃Inspiration had come to me。〃
〃What a very extraordinary thing；〃 said Denis。
〃I was afraid of it at first。 It didn't seem to me natural。 I didn't feel；
somehow； that it was quite right； quite fair； I might almost say； to produce
a literary composition unconsciously。 Besides； I was afraid I might have
written nonsense
