The London Coffee Houses倫敦的咖啡館

托馬斯·巴賓頓·麥考利 羅懷宇

The coffee house must not be dismissed with a cursory mention. It might indeed at that time have been not improperly called a most important political institution. No Parliament had sat for years.1 The municipal council of the City had ceased to speak the sense of the citizens. Public meetings， harangues， resolutions， and the rest of the modern machinery of agitation had not yet come into fashion. Nothing resembling the modern newspaper existed. In such circumstances the coffee houses were the chief organs through which the public opinion of the metropolis vented itself.

The first of these establishments had been set up by a Turkey merchant， who had acquired among the Mohammedans a taste for their favourite beverage. The convenience of being able to make appointments in any part of the town， and of being able to pass evenings socially at a very small charge， was so great that the fashion spread fast. Every man of the upper or middle class went daily to his coffee house to learn the news and to discuss it. Every coffee house had one or more orators to whose eloquence the crowd listened with admiration， and who soon became， what the journalists of our own time have been called， a fourth Estate of the realm2.

The Court3 had long seen with uneasiness the growth of this new power in the state. An attempt had been made， during Danby’s administration4， to close the coffee houses. But men of all parties missed their usual places of resort so much that there was a universal outcry. The government did not venture， in opposition to a feeling so strong and general， to enforce a regulation of which the legality might well be questioned. Since that time ten years had elapsed， and during those years the number and influence of the coffee houses had been constantly increasing.

Foreigners remarked that the coffee house was that which especially distinguished London from all other cities; that the coffee house was the Londoner’s home; and that those who wished to find a gentleman commonly asked， not whether he lived in Fleet Street or Chancery Lane， but whether he frequented the Grecian or the Rainbow. Nobody was excluded from these places who laid down his penny at the bar. Yet every rank and profession， and every shade of religious and political opinion， had its own headquarters.

There were houses near Saint James’s Park where fops congregated， their heads and shoulders covered with black or flaxen wigs， not less ample than those which are now worn by the Chancellor and by the Speaker of the House of Commons. The wig came from Paris and so did the rest of the fine gentleman’s ornaments， his embroidered coat， his fringed gloves， and the tassel which upheld his pantaloons. The conversation was in that dialect which， long after it had ceased to be spoken in fashionable circles， continued， in the mouth of Lord Foppington5， to excite the mirth of theatres. The atmosphere was like that of a perfumer’s shop. Tobacco in any other form than that of richly scented snuff was held in abomination.

If any clown， ignorant of the usages of the house， called for a pipe， the sneers of the whole assembly and the short answers of the waiters soon convinced him that he had better go somewhere else. Nor， indeed， would he have had far to go. For， in general， the coffee rooms reeked with tobacco like a guardroom; and strangers sometimes expressed their surprise that so many people should leave their own firesides to sit in the midst of eternal fog and stench. Nowhere was the smoking more constant than at Will’s. That celebrated house， situated between Covent Garden and Bow Street， was sacred to polite letters. There the talk was about poetical justice and the unities of place and time. There was a faction for Perrault6 and the moderns， a faction for Boileau7 and the ancients. One group debated whether Paradise Lost ought not to have been in rhyme. To another an envious poetaster demonstrated that Venice Preserved8 ought to have been hooted from the stage. Under no roof was a greater variety of figures to be seen. There were Earls in stars and garters， clergymen in cassocks and bands， pert Templars， sheepish lads from the Universities， translators and index makers in ragged coats of frieze.

The great press was to get near the chair where John Dryden sat. In winter that chair was always in the warmest nook by the fire; in summer it stood in the balcony. To bow to the Laureate， and to hear his opinion of Racine9’s last tragedy or of Bossu10’s treatise on epic poetry， was thought a privilege. A pinch from his snuff-box was an honour sufficient to turn the head of a young enthusiast. There were coffee houses where the first medical men might be consulted. Doctor John Radcliffe， who， in the year 1685， rose to the largest practice in London， came daily， at the hour when the Exchange was full， from his house in Bow Street， then a fashionable part of the capital， to Garraway’s， and was to be found， surrounded by surgeons and apothecaries， at a particular table. There were Puritan coffee houses where no oath was heard， and where lank-haired men discussed election and reprobation through their noses; Jew coffee houses where dark-eyed money-changers from Venice and Amsterdam greeted each other; and Popish coffee houses where， as good Protestants believed， Jesuits planned， over their cups， another great fire11， and cast silver bullets12 to shoot the King.

咖啡館不能一筆草草帶過。在那個年代，它被稱作一種極為重要的政治機構(gòu)或許并無不妥。英國議會已經(jīng)多年沒有開議。市議會也不再為市民代言。集會、演講、決議等現(xiàn)代政治的鼓動機制尚未盛行，也沒有任何現(xiàn)代意義上的報紙。在那樣的情況下，咖啡館便成了都市公共輿論自我表達的主渠道。

倫敦的第一家咖啡館是一個土耳其商人開辦的，咖啡是回教徒喜愛的飲品，他正是在與回教徒的交往中養(yǎng)成了喝這種飲品的習(xí)慣。咖啡館給人們帶來了極大的便利——在市區(qū)任何地方都可以約會，花一點小錢就可以在晚間社交——這使得這種時尚迅速風(fēng)靡全城。中上階層的每一位男性每天都光顧他的咖啡館，了解和討論時事。每家咖啡館都有一個或多個演說家，他們的高談闊論使聽眾為之傾倒，很快就成為王國的“第四權(quán)”，這一稱呼是我們?nèi)缃窆谝杂浾叩摹?/p>

對于國內(nèi)這種新型權(quán)力的增長，王室在不安中觀望已久。丹比伯爵治下的英國政府曾設(shè)法取締咖啡館，但由于人們不分黨派都難以割舍這常常光顧的休閑之所，取締之舉遭到了普遍抗議。面對如此強烈而廣泛的反對，政府沒有冒天下之大不韙強推這項合法性很可能受到質(zhì)疑的政策。在那以后的十年里，咖啡館的數(shù)量和影響與日俱增。

外國人說：咖啡館是倫敦區(qū)別于所有其他城市的一大特色;咖啡館就是倫敦人的家;若想尋一位紳士，不必問他是住艦隊街還是法院巷，只需問他是經(jīng)常光顧“希臘人”還是“彩虹”。只要放點錢在咖啡館的吧臺上，任何客人都不會被拒絕。只不過，每一個階層和職業(yè)、每一種宗教和政治觀點，都有屬于自己的聚集地。

圣詹姆斯公園附近有幾家咖啡館是紈绔子弟的會所。他們頭戴及肩的黑色或亞麻色假發(fā)，比起大法官和下院議長如今戴的，發(fā)量只多不少。這種假發(fā)來自巴黎，同樣來自巴黎的還有這些花花公子身上的其他飾物、刺繡外套、花邊手套和緊束馬褲的流蘇。他們交談時的那種腔調(diào)，時尚交際圈早已沒人再用，人們倒是還能從浮平頓爵士的口中聽到，那是為了逗樂劇院的觀眾。咖啡館里的空氣跟香水店差不多。除了香氣濃郁的鼻煙，任何其他種類的煙草都會招致白眼。

要是哪個蠢貨不諳館規(guī)，要抽煙斗，滿屋子的嘲諷和侍應(yīng)生輕慢的回答會讓他立刻明白他最好另尋去處。不過，實際上，他也用不著走多遠。因為，一般而言，咖啡屋里的煙味和警衛(wèi)室差不多;初來乍到者有時不免訝異，為何這么多人不待在自家火爐旁，卻要坐在這種永遠彌漫著煙氣和臭味的所在。煙抽得最厲害的莫過于威爾咖啡館。這家聲名卓著的咖啡館坐落在科文特花園和弓街之間，是風(fēng)雅文學(xué)的神圣之所。在那里，人們談?wù)撝P(guān)于詩性正義、時空統(tǒng)一性之類的話題。有支持佩羅和現(xiàn)代派的，也有支持布瓦洛和古典派的。有一群人在辯論《失樂園》該不該使用韻體;而在另一群人中，一個妒火中燒的蹩腳詩人正說服聽眾應(yīng)該把《威尼斯劫余記》轟下舞臺。沒有哪個屋檐下能見到更多的眾生相。這里有佩戴嘉德勛章的伯爵、長袍冠帶的教士、驕矜無禮的圣殿騎士，還有怯懦的大學(xué)青年、衣衫襤褸的象寄譯鞮之士和索引編纂者。

人們爭相擠到約翰·德萊頓落座的椅子旁邊。冬天，那把椅子總擺在爐邊最暖和的角落;夏天則放置在陽臺。向這位桂冠詩人行鞠躬之禮，聆聽他對于拉辛最新悲劇或者博蘇史詩論文的看法，人們感到與有榮焉。能得到他鼻煙壺里的一小撮煙粉，這樣的榮耀足以使年輕的擁躉意亂神迷。可能就是在一些咖啡館里，最早的一批醫(yī)師開始坐診。1685年，約翰·拉德克利夫醫(yī)生躍升為倫敦最有影響的行醫(yī)者。每天，交易巷人群熙攘?xí)r，他都會從位于弓街的宅邸——那時弓街是首都的一個時尚地段——來到加拉維咖啡館。于是人們總能看見，在一張?zhí)囟ǖ淖雷忧埃蝗和饪漆t(yī)生和藥劑師簇擁著他。清教徒的咖啡館里聽不到咒罵聲，直發(fā)的男性用濃重的鼻音討論著上帝的揀選和摒棄的問題;在猶太人的咖啡館里，來自威尼斯和阿姆斯特丹的黑眼睛錢商彼此打著招呼;而在天主教徒的咖啡館里，虔誠的新教徒一定以為，那些耶穌會士一邊喝著咖啡，一邊在密謀又一場大火，還要鑄造銀色子彈行刺國王。

（譯者單位：北京語言大學(xué)）

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