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黄面志(第四卷)

作者：(美)亨利·哈兰(HenryHarla

出版社：华东师范大学出版社出版时间：2017-04-01

开本： 16开 页数： 285

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黄面志(第四卷) 版权信息

ISBN：9787567562745
条形码：9787567562745 ; 978-7-5675-6274-5
装帧：一般胶版纸
册数：暂无
重量：暂无
所属分类：
文学
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中国现当代随笔

黄面志(第四卷) 内容简介

　　《Literature系列：黄面志（第4卷）》为《黄面志》第4卷。《黄面志》一书，美国小说家、编辑哈兰（Henry Harland，1861-1905，）编选。是文学季刊的合印本。原以“黄色年代”为名，自1884年4月创刊到1887年春停刊，共13期。它引领英国19世纪末20世纪初文坛风潮，包含宽广的文化和艺术体裁：诗歌、短片小说、随笔、插图、画像和画作复件。有名英国画家比亚兹莱（Aubrey Beardsley，1872-1898）为其创作了若干期封面。

黄面志(第四卷) 目录

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黄面志(第四卷) 节选

　　《Literature系列：黄面志（第4卷）》：　　He was, indeed,charming to know ; he was the hero, the idol,of a little sect of worshippers, young fellows who loved nothing better than to sit at his feet. On the Rive Gauche, to be sure,we are, for the most part, birds of passage ; a student arrives,tarries a little, then departs. So, with the exits and entrances of seniors and nouveaux, the personnel of old Childe's following varied from season to season ; but numerically it remained pretty much the same. He had a studio, with a few living-rooms attached,somewhere up in the fastnesses of Montparnasse, though it was seldom thither that one went to seek him. He received at his cafe,the Cafe Bleu-the Cafe Bleu which has since blown into the monster cafe of the Quarter, the noisiest, the rowdiest, the most flamboyant. But I am writing (alas) of twelve, thirteen, fifteen years ago; in those days the Cafe Bleu consisted of a single oblong room-with a sanded floor, a dozen tables, and two waiters, Eugene and Hippolyte-where Madame Chanve, the patronne, in lofty insulation behind her counter, reigned, if you please, but where Childe, her principal client, governed. The bottom of the shop, at any rate, was reserved exclusively to his use. There he dined, wrote his letters, dispensed his hospitalities,he had his own piano there, if you can believe me, his foils and boxing-gloves ; from the absinthe hour till bed-time there was his habitat, his den. And woe to the passing stranger who, mis-taking the Cafe Bleu for an ordinary house of call, ventured, during that consecrated period, to drop in. Nothing would be said, nothing done; we would not even trouble to stare at the intruder. Yet he would seldom stop to finish his consommation,or he would bolt it. He would feel something iii the air ; he would know he was out of place. He would fidget a little, frown alittle, and get up meekly, and slink into the street. Human magnetism is such a subtle force. And Madame Chanve didn't mind in the least , she preferred a bird in the hand to a brace in the bush. From half a dozen to a score of us dined at her long table every evening ; as many more drank her appetisers in the afternoon:yand came again at night for grog or coffee. You sec, it was a sort of club, a club of which Childe was at once. the chairman and the object. If we had had a written constitution, it must have begun : "The purpose ofthis association is the enjoyment of the society of Alfred Childe."　　Ah, those afternoons, those dinners, those ambrosial nights !If the weather was kind, of course, we would begin our session on the terrasse, sipping our vermouth, pufling our cigarettes, laugh-ing our laughs, tossing hither and thither our light ball of gossip, vaguely consaous of the perpetual ebb and flow and murmur of people in the Boulevard, while the setting sun turned Paris to a marvellous water-colour, all pale lucent tints, amber and alabaster and mother-of-pearl, with amethystine shadows. Then, one by one, those of us who were dining elsewhere would slip away ,and at a sign from Hippolyte the others would move indoors,and take their places down either side of the long narrow table,Childe at the head, his daughter Nina next him. And presently with what a clatter of knives and forks, clinking of glasses, and babble of human voices, the Cafe Bleu would echo.　　……