It is really astonishing, by the way, how many gardeners there are in a newspaper office. We once worked in a place where a horticultural magazine and a beautiful journal of rustic2 life were published, and the delightful3 people who edited those magazines were really men about town; but here in the teeming4 city and in the very node of urban affairs, to wit, the composing room, one hears nought5 but merry gossip about gardens, and the great and good men by whom we are surrounded [87]begin their day by gazing tenderly upon jars full of white iris6. And has not our friend Charley Sawyer of the dramatic department given us a lot of vegetable marrow7 seeds from his own garden and greatly embarrassed us by so doing, for he has put them in two packets marked "Male" and "Female," and to tell the truth we had no idea that the matter of sex extended even as far as the apparently8 placid9 and unperturbed vegetable marrow. Mr. Sawyer explained carefully to us just how the seeds ought to be planted, the males and females in properly wedded10 couples, we think he said; but we are not quite sure, and we are too modest to ask him to explain again; but if we should make a mistake in planting those seeds, if we were to—— Come, we are getting away from our topic. Peter had told us about his corn, in his garden, that is, out in Nutley (and that reminds us of the difficulties of reading poetry aloud. Mr. Chesterton tells somewhere a story about a poem of Browning's that he heard read aloud when he was a child, and understood the poem to say "John scorns ale."
Now Mr. Chesterton—you understand, of course, we are referring to Gilbert Keith Chesterton—being from his very earliest youth an avowed11 partisan12 of malt liquor, this heresy13 made an impression upon his tender cortex, and he never forgot about John, in Browning's poem, scorning ale. But many years afterward14, reading Browning, he found that the words really were: "John's corns ail," meaning apparently that John was troubled by pedal callouses15.) Peter, we repeat, and to avoid any further misunderstanding and press diligently16 toward [88]our theme, having mentioned his garden, who should come up to us but Pete Corcoran, also of the composing room force, and a waggish17 friend of ours, and gazing on us in a manner calculated to make us feel ill at ease he said, "I suppose you are going to write something about that tie of yours."
Now we were wearing a scarf that we are very fond of, the kind of tie, we believe, that is spoken of as "regimental stripes"; at any rate, it is designated with broad diagonal bands of colour: claret, gold, and blue. It was obvious to us that Pete Corcoran, or, to give him his proper name, Mr. Corcoran, had said what he did merely in a humorous way, or possibly satiric19, implying that we are generally so hard up for something to write about that we would even undertake so trifling20 a subject as haberdashery; but as we went downstairs again to our kennel21, au dixième, as Mr. Wanamaker would call it, we thought seriously about this and decided22 that we would cause Pete's light-hearted suggestion to recoil23 violently upon his friendly brow, and that we would write a little essay about this tie and tell its story, which, to be honest, is very interesting to us. And this essay we are now endeavouring to write, even if it has to run in several instalments.
It was curious, incidentally (but not really more curious than most human affairs), that Pete (or Mr. Corcoran) whether he was merely chaffing us, or whether he was really curious about a scarf of such wanton colour scheme, should have mentioned it just when he did, for as a matter of fact that tie had been on our mind all morning. You see to-day being [89]warm (and please remember that what we call to-day, is now, when you are reading this, yesterday) we did not wear our waistcoat, or, if you prefer, our vest; but by the time we had decided not to wear our waistcoat we had already tied our scarf in the usual way we tie that particular scarf when we wear it, viz., so as to conceal24 a certain spot on it which got there we know not how. We do not know what kind of a spot it is; perhaps it is a soup stain, perhaps it is due to a shrimp25 salad we had with Endymion at that amusing place that calls itself the Crystal Palace; we will not attempt to trace the origin of that swarthy blemish26 on the soft silk of our tie; but we have cunningly taught ourself to knot the thing so that the spot does not show. (Good, we have made that plain: we are getting along famously.)
Since the above was written we have been uptown and had lunch with Alf Harcourt and Will Howe and other merry gentlemen; and Will Howe, who used to be a professor of English and is now a publisher, says we ought to break up our essays into shorter paragraphs. We are fain and teachable, as someone once said in a very pretty poem; we will start a new paragraph right away.
But when our tie is tied in the manner described above, it leaves one end very much longer than the other. This is not noticeable when we wear our waistcoat; but having left off our waistcoat, we were fearful that the manner in which our tie was disposed would attract attention; and everyone would suspect just why it was tied in that way.
And we did not have time to take it off and put on another one, because we had to catch the 8:06.
[90]So when Pete Corcoran spoke18 about our tie, was that what was in his mind, we wondered? Did he infer the existence of that spot, even though he did not see it? And did he therefore look down upon, or otherwise feel inclined to belittle28 our tie? If that were the case, we felt that we really owed it to ourself to tell the story of the tie, how we bought it, and why; and just why that tie is to us not merely a strip of rather gaudy29 neckwear, but a symbol of an enchanting30 experience, a memory and token of an epoch31 in our life, the sign and expression of a certain feeling that can never come again—and, indeed (as the sequel will show), that should not have come when it did.
It was a bright morning, last November, in Gloversville, New York, when we bought that tie. Now an explanation of just why we bought that tie, and what we were doing in Gloversville, cannot possibly be put into a paragraph, at any rate the kind of paragraph that Will Howe (who used to be a professor of English) would approve. On the whole, rather than rewrite the entire narrative32, tersely33, we will have to postpone34 the dénouement (of the story, not the tie) until to-morrow. This is an exhibition of the difficulty of telling anything exactly. There are so many subsidiary considerations that beg for explanation. Please be patient, Pete, and to-morrow we will explain that tie in detail.
II
It was a bright and transparent35 cold morning in Gloversville, N.Y., November, 1919, and passing out of the Kingsborough Hotel we set off to have a look at [91]the town. And if we must be honest, we were in passable good humour. To tell the truth, as Gloversville began its daily tasks in that clear lusty air and in a white dazzling sunshine, we believed, simpleton that we were, that we were on the road toward making our fortune. Now, we will have to be brief in explanation of the reason why we felt so, for it is a matter not easy to discuss with the requisite36 delicacy37. Shortly, we were on the road—"trouping," they call it in the odd and glorious world of the theatre—with a little play in which we were partially38 incriminated, on a try-out voyage of one-night stands. The night before, the company had played Johnstown (a few miles from Gloversville), and if we do have to say it, the good-natured citizens of that admirable town had given them an enthusiastic reception. So friendly indeed had been our houses on the road and so genially39 did the company manager smile upon us that any secret doubts and qualms40 we had entertained were now set at rest. Lo! had not the company manager himself condescended41 to share a two-room suite42 with us in the Kingsborough Hotel that night? And we, a novice43 in this large and exhilarating tract27 of life, thought to ourself that this was the ultimate honour that could be conferred upon a lowly co-author. Yes, we said to ourself, as we beamed upon the excellent town of Gloversville, admiring the Carnegie Library and the shops and the numerous motor cars and the bright shop windows and munching44 some very fine doughnuts we had seen in a bakery. Yes, we repeated, this is the beginning of fame and fortune. Ah! Pete Corcoran may scoff45, but that was a bright and golden [92]morning, and we would not have missed it. We did not know then the prompt and painful end destined46 for that innocent piece when it reached the Alba Via Maxima. All we knew was that Saratoga and Newburgh and Johnstown had taken us to their bosoms47.
At this moment, and our thoughts running thus, we happened to pass by the window of a very alluring49 haberdasher's shop. In that window we saw displayed a number of very brilliant neckties, all rich and glowing with bright diagonal stripes. The early sunlight fell upon them and they were brave to behold50. And we said to ourself that it would be a proper thing for one who was connected with the triumphal onward51 march of a play that was knocking them cold on the one-night circuit to flourish a little and show some sign of worldly vanity. (We were still young, that November, and our mind was still subject to some harmless frailties52.) We entered the shop and bought that tie, the very same one that struck Pete Corcoran with a palsy when he saw it the other day. We put it in our pocket and walked back to the hotel.
Now comes a portion of the narrative that exhibits to the full the deceits and stratagems53 of the human being. This tie, which we liked so much, thinking it the kind of thing that would add a certain dash and zip to our bearing, was eminently54 a metropolitan-looking kind of scarf. No one would think to look at it that it had been bought in Gloversville. And we said to ourself that if we went quietly back to the hotel and slipped unobtrusively into the washroom and put on that tie, no one would know that we had just bought it in Gloversville,[93] but would think it was a part of our elaborate wardrobe that we had brought from New York. Very well. (We would not reveal these shameful55 subterfuges56 to any one but Pete Corcoran.) No sooner said than done; and behold us taking the trolley57 from Gloversville to Fonda, with the rest of the company, wearing that tie that flared58 and burned in the keen wintry light like a great banner, like an oriflamme of youthful defiance59.
And what a day that was! We shall never forget it; we will never forget it! Was that the Mohawk Valley that glittered in the morning? (A sunshine so bright that sitting on the sunward side of the smoker60 and lighting61 our pipe, the small flame of our match paled shamefully62 into a tiny and scarce visible ghost.) Our tie strengthened and sustained us in our zest63 for a world so coloured and contoured. We even thought that it was a bit of a pity that our waistcoat was cut with so shallow and conservative a V that the casual passerby64 would see but little of that triumphant65 silk beacon66. The fellow members of our company were too polite to remark upon it, but we saw that they had noticed it and took it as a joyful67 omen48.
We had two and a half hours in Albany that day and we remember that we had set our heart on buying a certain book. Half an hour we allotted68 to lunch and the other two hours was spent in visiting the bookshops of Albany, which are many and good. We wonder if any Albany booksellers chance to recall a sudden flash of colour that came, moved along the shelves, and was gone? We remember half a dozen book stores that we [94]visited; we remember them just as well as if it were yesterday, and we remember the great gusto and bright cheer of the crowds of shoppers, already doing their Christmas pioneering. We remember also that three of the books we bought (to give away) were McFee's "Aliens" and Frank Adams's "Tobogganing on Parnassus," yes, and Stevenson's "Lay Morals." Oh, a great day! And we remember the ride from Albany to Kingston, with the darkening profile of the Catskills on the western side of the train, the tawny69 colours of the fields (like a lion's hide), the blue shadows of the glens, the sparkling Hudson in quick blinks of brightness, the lilac line of the hills when we reached Kingston in the dusk. We remember the old and dilapidated theatre at Kingston, the big shabby dressing70 rooms of the men, with the scribbled71 autographs of former mummers on the walls. And that night we said good-bye to our little play, whose very imperfections we had grown to love by this time, and took the 3:45 a.m. milk train to New York. We slept on two seats in the smoker, and got to Weehawken in the brumous chill of a winter dawn—still wearing our tie. Now can Pete Corcoran wonder why we are fond of it, and why, ever and anon, we get it out and wear it in remembrance?
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1
privy
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| adj.私用的；隐密的 | |
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rustic
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| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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4
teeming
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| adj.丰富的v.充满( teem的现在分词 )；到处都是；（指水、雨等）暴降；倾注 | |
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nought
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| n.／adj.无，零 | |
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iris
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| n.虹膜，彩虹 | |
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marrow
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| n.骨髓；精华；活力 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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wedded
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| adj.正式结婚的；渴望…的，执著于…的v.嫁，娶，（与…）结婚( wed的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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avowed
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| adj.公开声明的，承认的v.公开声明，承认( avow的过去式和过去分词) | |
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partisan
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| adj.党派性的；游击队的；n.游击队员；党徒 | |
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heresy
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| n.异端邪说；异教 | |
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14
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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callouses
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| n.硬皮，老茧( callous的名词复数 )v.（使）硬结，（使）起茧( callous的第三人称单数 )；（使）冷酷无情 | |
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diligently
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| ad.industriously;carefully | |
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waggish
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| adj.诙谐的，滑稽的 | |
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18
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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satiric
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| adj.讽刺的，挖苦的 | |
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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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kennel
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| n.狗舍，狗窝 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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recoil
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| vi.退却，退缩，畏缩 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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shrimp
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| n.虾，小虾；矮小的人 | |
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blemish
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| v.损害；玷污；瑕疵，缺点 | |
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tract
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| n.传单，小册子，大片(土地或森林) | |
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belittle
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| v.轻视，小看，贬低 | |
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gaudy
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| adj.华而不实的；俗丽的 | |
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enchanting
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| a.讨人喜欢的 | |
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epoch
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| n.(新)时代；历元 | |
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narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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tersely
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| adv. 简捷地, 简要地 | |
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postpone
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| v.延期，推迟 | |
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transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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requisite
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| adj.需要的，必不可少的；n.必需品 | |
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delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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genially
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| adv.亲切地，和蔼地；快活地 | |
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qualms
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| n.不安；内疚 | |
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condescended
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| 屈尊，俯就( condescend的过去式和过去分词 )； 故意表示和蔼可亲 | |
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suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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novice
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| adj.新手的，生手的 | |
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munching
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| v.用力咀嚼（某物），大嚼( munch的现在分词 ) | |
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scoff
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| n.嘲笑，笑柄，愚弄；v.嘲笑，嘲弄，愚弄，狼吞虎咽 | |
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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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bosoms
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| 胸部( bosom的名词复数 )； 胸怀； 女衣胸部（或胸襟）； 和爱护自己的人在一起的情形 | |
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omen
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| n.征兆，预兆；vt.预示 | |
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alluring
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| adj.吸引人的，迷人的 | |
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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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frailties
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| n.脆弱( frailty的名词复数 )；虚弱；（性格或行为上的）弱点；缺点 | |
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stratagems
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| n.诡计，计谋( stratagem的名词复数 )；花招 | |
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eminently
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| adv.突出地；显著地；不寻常地 | |
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shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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subterfuges
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| n.（用说谎或欺骗以逃脱责备、困难等的）花招，遁词( subterfuge的名词复数 ) | |
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trolley
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| n.手推车，台车；无轨电车；有轨电车 | |
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Flared
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| adj. 端部张开的, 爆发的, 加宽的, 漏斗式的 动词flare的过去式和过去分词 | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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smoker
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| n.吸烟者，吸烟车厢，吸烟室 | |
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61
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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shamefully
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| 可耻地； 丢脸地； 不体面地； 羞耻地 | |
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zest
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| n.乐趣；滋味，风味；兴趣 | |
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passerby
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| n.过路人，行人 | |
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triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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beacon
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| n.烽火，（警告用的）闪火灯，灯塔 | |
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joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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allotted
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| 分配，拨给，摊派( allot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tawny
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| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
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dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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scribbled
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| v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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