Up to this passage (extracted from the beginning of Vol. II.) the tale is briefly2 thus:
The rogue3 of a Millwood has come back every day to the grocer’s shop in Chepe, wanting some sugar, or some nutmeg, or some figs4, half a dozen times in the week.
She and George de Barnwell have vowed5 to each other an eternal attachment6.
This flame acts violently upon George. His bosom7 swells8 with ambition. His genius breaks out prodigiously9. He talks about the Good, the Beautiful, the Ideal, &c., in and out of all season, and is virtuous10 and eloquent11 almost beyond belief — in fact like Devereux, or P. Clifford, or E. Aram, Esquires.
Inspired by Millwood and love, George robs the till, and mingles12 in the world which he is destined14 to ornament15. He outdoes all the dandies, all the wits, all the scholars, and all the voluptuaries of the age — an indefinite period of time between Queen Anne and George II. — dines with Curll at St. John’s Gate, pinks Colonel Charteris in a duel16 behind Montague House, is initiated17 into the intrigues18 of the Chevalier St. George, whom he entertains at his sumptuous19 pavilion at Hampstead, and likewise in disguise at the shop in Cheapside.
His uncle, the owner of the shop, a surly curmudgeon20 with very little taste for the True and Beautiful, has retired21 from business to the pastoral village in Cambridgeshire from which the noble Barnwells came. George’s cousin Annabel is, of course, consumed with a secret passion for him.
Some trifling22 inaccuracies may be remarked in the ensuing brilliant little chapter; but it must be remembered that the author wished to present an age at a glance: and the dialogue is quite as fine and correct as that in the “Last of the Barons,” or in “Eugene Aram,” or other works of our author, in which Sentiment and History, or the True and Beautiful, are united.
Chapter Xxiv.
Button’s in Pall23 Mall.
Those who frequent the dismal24 and enormous Mansions25 of Silence which society has raised to Ennui26 in that Omphalos of town, Pall Mall, and which, because they knock you down with their dulness, are called Clubs no doubt; those who yawn from a bay-window in St. James’s Street, at a half-score of other dandies gaping27 from another bay-window over the way; those who consult a dreary28 evening paper for news, or satisfy themselves with the jokes of the miserable29 Punch by way of wit; the men about town of the present day, in a word, can have but little idea of London some six or eight score years back. Thou pudding-sided old dandy of St. James’s Street, with thy lacquered boots, thy dyed whiskers, and thy suffocating30 waistband, what art thou to thy brilliant predecessor31 in the same quarter? The Brougham from which thou descendest at the portal of the “Carlton” or the “Travellers’,” is like everybody else’s; thy black coat has no more plaits, nor buttons, nor fancy in it than thy neighbor’s; thy hat was made on the very block on which Lord Addlepate’s was cast, who has just entered the Club before thee. You and he yawn together out of the same omnibus-box every night; you fancy yourselves men of pleasure; you fancy yourselves men of fashion; you fancy yourselves men of taste; in fancy, in taste, in opinion, in philosophy, the newspaper legislates32 for you; it is there you get your jokes and your thoughts, and your facts and your wisdom — poor Pall Mall dullards. Stupid slaves of the press, on that ground which you at present occupy, there were men of wit and pleasure and fashion, some five-and-twenty lustres ago.
We are at Button’s — the well-known sign of the “Turk’s Head.” The crowd of periwigged heads at the windows — the swearing chairmen round the steps (the blazoned33 and coronalled panels of whose vehicles denote the lofty rank of their owners) — the throng34 of embroidered35 beaux entering or departing, and rendering36 the air fragrant37 with the odors of pulvillio and pomander, proclaim the celebrated38 resort of London’s Wit and Fashion. It is the corner of Regent Street. Carlton House has not yet been taken down.
A stately gentleman in crimson39 velvet40 and gold is sipping41 chocolate at one of the tables, in earnest converse42 with a friend whose suit is likewise embroidered, but stained by time, or wine mayhap, or wear. A little deformed43 gentleman in iron-gray is reading the Morning Chronicle newspaper by the fire, while a divine, with a broad brogue and a shovel44 hat and cassock, is talking freely with a gentleman, whose star and ribbon, as well as the unmistakable beauty of his Phidian countenance45, proclaims him to be a member of Britain’s aristocracy.
Two ragged46 youths, the one tall, gaunt, clumsy and scrofulous, the other with a wild, careless, beautiful look, evidently indicating Race, are gazing in at the window, not merely at the crowd in the celebrated Club, but at Timothy the waiter, who is removing a plate of that exquisite47 dish, the muffin (then newly invented), at the desire of some of the revellers within.
“I would, Sam,” said the wild youth to his companion, “that I had some of my mother Macclesfield’s gold, to enable us to eat of those cates and mingle13 with yon springalds and beaux.”
“To vaunt a knowledge of the stoical philosophy,” said the youth addressed as Sam, “might elicit48 a smile of incredulity upon the cheek of the parasite49 of pleasure; but there are moments in life when History fortifies50 endurance: and past study renders present deprivation51 more bearable. If our pecuniary52 resources be exiguous53, let our resolution, Dick, supply the deficiencies of Fortune. The muffin we desire today would little benefit us tomorrow. Poor and hungry as we are, are we less happy, Dick, than yon listless voluptuary who banquets on the food which you covet54?”
And the two lads turned away up Waterloo Place, and past the “Parthenon” Club-house, and disappeared to take a meal of cow-heel at a neighboring cook’s shop. Their names were Samuel Johnson and Richard Savage55.
Meanwhile the conversation at Button’s was fast and brilliant. “By Wood’s thirteens, and the divvle go wid ’em,” cried the Church dignitary in the cassock, “is it in blue and goold ye are this morning, Sir Richard, when you ought to be in seebles?”
“Who’s dead, Dean?” said the nobleman, the dean’s companion.
“Faix, mee Lard Bolingbroke, as sure as mee name’s Jonathan Swift — and I’m not so sure of that neither, for who knows his father’s name? — there’s been a mighty56 cruel murther committed entirely57. A child of Dick Steele’s has been barbarously slain58, dthrawn, and quarthered, and it’s Joe Addison yondther has done it. Ye should have killed one of your own, Joe, ye thief of the world.”
“I!” said the amazed and Right Honorable Joseph Addison; “I kill Dick’s child! I was godfather to the last.”
“And promised a cup and never sent it,” Dick ejaculated. Joseph looked grave.
“The child I mean is Sir Roger de Coverley, Knight59 and Baronet. What made ye kill him, ye savage Mohock? The whole town is in tears about the good knight; all the ladies at Church this afternoon were in mourning; all the booksellers are wild; and Lintot says not a third of the copies of the Spectator are sold since the death of the brave old gentleman.” And the Dean of St. Patrick’s pulled out the Spectator newspaper, containing the well-known passage regarding Sir Roger’s death. “I bought it but now in ‘Wellington Street,’” he said; “the newsboys were howling all down the Strand60.”
“What a miracle is Genius — Genius, the Divine and Beautiful,” said a gentleman leaning against the same fireplace with the deformed cavalier in iron-gray, and addressing that individual, who was in fact Mr. Alexander Pope. “What a marvellous gift is this, and royal privilege of Art! To make the Ideal more credible61 than the Actual: to enchain our hearts, to command our hopes, our regrets, our tears, for a mere brain-born Emanation: to invest with life the Incorporeal62, and to glamour63 the cloudy into substance — these are the lofty privileges of the Poet, if I have read poesy aright; and I am as familiar with the sounds that rang from Homer’s lyre, as with the strains which celebrate the loss of Belinda’s lovely locks”—(Mr. Pope blushed and bowed, highly delighted)—“these, I say, sir, are the privileges of the Poet — the Poietes — the Maker64 — he moves the world, and asks no lever; if he cannot charm death into life, as Orpheus feigned65 to do, he can create Beauty out of Nought66, and defy Death by rendering Thought Eternal. Ho! Jemmy, another flask67 of Nantz.”
And the boy — for he who addressed the most brilliant company of wits in Europe was little more — emptied the contents of the brandy-flask into a silver flagon, and quaffed68 it gayly to the health of the company assembled. ’Twas the third he had taken during the sitting. Presently, and with a graceful69 salute70 to the Society, he quitted the coffee-house, and was seen cantering on a magnificent Arab past the National Gallery.
“Who is yon spark in blue and silver? He beats Joe Addison himself, in drinking, and pious71 Joe is the greatest toper in the three kingdoms,” Dick Steele said, good-naturedly.
“His paper in the Spectator beats thy best, Dick, thou sluggard,” the Right Honorable Mr. Addison exclaimed. “He is the author of that famous No. 996, for which you have all been giving me the credit.”
“The rascal72 foiled me at capping verses,” Dean Swift said, “and won a tenpenny piece of me, plague take him!”
“He has suggested an emendation in my ‘Homer,’ which proves him a delicate scholar,” Mr. Pope exclaimed.
“He knows more of the French king than any man I have met with; and we must have an eye upon him,” said Lord Bolingbroke, then Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, and beckoning73 a suspicious-looking person who was drinking at a side-table, whispered to him something.
Meantime who was he? where was he, this youth who had struck all the wits of London with admiration74? His galloping75 charger had returned to the City; his splendid court-suit was doffed76 for the citizen’s gabardine and grocer’s humble77 apron78.
George de Barnwell was in Chepe — in Chepe, at the feet of Martha Millwood.
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1
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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rogue
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| n.流氓；v.游手好闲 | |
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figs
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| figures 数字，图形，外形 | |
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vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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attachment
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| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
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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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swells
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| 增强( swell的第三人称单数 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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prodigiously
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| adv.异常地，惊人地，巨大地 | |
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virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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mingles
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| 混合，混入( mingle的第三人称单数 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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mingle
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| vt.使混合，使相混；vi.混合起来；相交往 | |
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destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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duel
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| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
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initiated
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| n. 创始人 adj. 新加入的 vt. 开始，创始，启蒙，介绍加入 | |
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intrigues
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| n.密谋策划( intrigue的名词复数 )；神秘气氛；引人入胜的复杂情节v.搞阴谋诡计( intrigue的第三人称单数 )；激起…的好奇心 | |
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sumptuous
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| adj.豪华的，奢侈的，华丽的 | |
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curmudgeon
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| n. 脾气暴躁之人，守财奴，吝啬鬼 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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pall
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| v.覆盖，使平淡无味；n.柩衣，棺罩；棺材；帷幕 | |
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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mansions
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| n.宅第，公馆，大厦( mansion的名词复数 ) | |
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ennui
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| n.怠倦，无聊 | |
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gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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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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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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suffocating
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| a.使人窒息的 | |
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predecessor
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| n.前辈，前任 | |
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legislates
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| v.立法，制定法律( legislate的第三人称单数 ) | |
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blazoned
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| v.广布( blazon的过去式和过去分词 )；宣布；夸示；装饰 | |
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throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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rendering
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| n.表现，描写 | |
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fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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sipping
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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deformed
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| adj.畸形的；变形的；丑的，破相了的 | |
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shovel
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| n.铁锨，铲子，一铲之量；v.铲，铲出 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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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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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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elicit
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| v.引出,抽出,引起 | |
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parasite
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| n.寄生虫；寄生菌；食客 | |
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50
fortifies
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| 筑防御工事于( fortify的第三人称单数 )； 筑堡于； 增强； 强化（食品） | |
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deprivation
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| n.匮乏；丧失；夺去，贫困 | |
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pecuniary
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| adj.金钱的；金钱上的 | |
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exiguous
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| adj.不足的，太少的 | |
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covet
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| vt.垂涎；贪图(尤指属于他人的东西) | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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strand
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| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
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credible
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| adj.可信任的，可靠的 | |
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incorporeal
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| adj.非物质的，精神的 | |
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glamour
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| n.魔力，魅力；vt.迷住 | |
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maker
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| n.制造者，制造商 | |
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feigned
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| a.假装的，不真诚的 | |
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nought
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| n.／adj.无，零 | |
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flask
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| n.瓶，火药筒，砂箱 | |
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quaffed
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| v.痛饮( quaff的过去式和过去分词 )；畅饮；大口大口将…喝干；一饮而尽 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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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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74
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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doffed
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| v.脱去，（尤指）脱帽( doff的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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