But Gissing was acutely conscious of Time. Though not subtle enough to analyze1 the matter acutely, he had a troublesome feeling about it. He kept checking off a series of Nows. “Now I am having my bath,” he would say to himself in the morning. “Now I am dressing2. Now I am on the way to the store. Now I am in the jewellery aisle3, being polite to customers. Now I am having lunch.” After a period in which time ran by unnoticed, he would suddenly realize a fresh Now, and feel uneasy at the knowledge that it would shortly dissolve into another one. He tried, vainly, to swim up-stream against the smooth impalpable fatal current. He tried to dam up Time, to deepen the stream so that he could bathe in it carelessly. Time, he said, is life; and life is God; time, then, is little bits of God. Those who waste their time in vulgarity or folly4 are the true atheists.
One of the things that struck him about the city was its heedlessness of Time. On every side he saw people spending it without adequate return. Perhaps he was young and doctrinaire5: but he devised this theory for himself—all time is wasted that does not give you some awareness6 of beauty or wonder. In other words, “the days that make us happy make us wise,” he said to himself, quoting Masefield's line. On that principle, he asked, how much time is wasted in this city? Well, here are some six million people. To simplify the problem (which is permitted to every philosopher) let us (he said) assume that 2,350,000 of those people have spent a day that could be called, on the whole, happy: a day in which they have had glimpses of reality; a day in which they feel satisfaction. (That was, he felt, a generous allowance. ) Very well, then, that leaves 3,650,000 people whose day has been unfruitful: spent in uncongenial work, or in sorrow, suffering, and talking nonsense. This city, then, in one day, has wasted 10,000 years, or 100 centuries. One hundred centuries squandered7 in a day! It made him feel quite ill, and he tore up the scrap8 of paper on which he had been figuring.
This was a new, disconcerting way to think of the subject. We are accustomed to consider Time only as it applies to ourselves, forgetting that it is working upon everyone else simultaneously9. Why, he thought with a sudden shock, if only 36,500 people in this city have had a thoroughly10 spendthrift and useless day, that means a net loss of a century! If the War, he said to himself, lasted over 1,500 days and involved more than 10,000,000 men, how many aeons—He used to think about these things during quiet evenings in the top-floor room at Mrs. Purp's. Occasionally he went home at night still wearing his store clothes, because it pleased good Mrs. Purp so much. She felt that it added glamour11 to her house to have him do so, and always called her husband, a frightened silent creature with no collar and a humble12 air, up from the basement to admire. Mr. Purp's time, Gissing suspected, was irretrievably wasted—a good deal of it, to judge by his dusty appearance, in rolling around in ashcans or in the company of the neighbourhood bootlegger; but then, he reflected, in a charitable seizure13, you must not judge other people's time-spendings by a calculus14 of your own.
Perhaps he himself was growing a little miserly in this matter. Indulging in the rare, the sovereign luxury of thinking, he had suddenly become aware of time's precious fluency15, and wondered why everyone else didn't think about it as passionately16 as he did. In the privacy of his room, weary after the day afoot, he took off his cutaway coat and trousers and enjoyed his old habit of stretching out on the floor for a good rest. There he would lie, not asleep, but in a bliss17 of passive meditation18. He even grudged19 Mrs. Purp the little chats she loved—she made a point of coming up with clean towels when she knew he was in his room, because she cherished hearing him talk. When he heard her knock, he had to scramble20 hastily to his feet, get on his clothes, and pretend he had been sitting calmly in the rocking chair. It would never do to let her find him sprawled21 on the floor. She had an almost painful respect for him. Once, when prospective22 lodgers23 were bargaining for rooms, and he happened to be wearing his Beagle and Company attire24, she had asked him to do her the favour of walking down the stairs, so that the visitors might be impressed by the gentility of the establishment.
Of course he loved to waste time—but in his own way. He gloated on the irresponsible vacancy25 of those evening hours, when there was nothing to be done. He lay very still, hardly even thinking, just feeling life go by. Through the open window came the lights and noises of the street. Already his domestic life seemed dim and far away. The shrill26 appeals of the puppies, their appalling27 innocent comments on existence, came but faintly to memory. Here, where life beat so much more thickly and closely, was the place to be. Though he had solved nothing, yet he seemed closer to the heart of the mystery. Entranced, he felt time flowing on toward him, endless in sweep and fulness. There is only one success, he said to himself—to be able to spend your life in your own way, and not to give others absurd maddening claims upon it. Youth, youth is the only wealth, for youth has Time in its purse!
In the store, however, philosophy was laid aside. A kind of intoxication28 possessed29 him. Never before had old Mr. Beagle (watching delightedly from the mezzanine balcony) seen such a floorwalker. Gissing moved to and fro exulting30 in the great tide of shopping. He knew all the best customers by name and had learned their peculiarities31. If a shower came up and Mrs. Mastiff was just leaving, he hastened to give her his arm as far as her limousine32, boosting her in so expeditiously33 that not a drop of wetness fell upon her. He took care to find out the special plat du jour of the store's lunch room, and seized occasion to whisper to Mrs. Dachshund, whose weakness was food, that the filet34 of sole was very nice to-day. Mrs. Pomeranian learned that giving Gissing a hint about some new Parisian importations was more effective than a half page ad. in the Sunday papers. Within a few hours, by a judicious35 word here and there, he would have a score of ladies hastening to the millinery salon36. A pearl necklace of great value, which Mr. Beagle had rebuked37 the jewellery buyer for getting, because it seemed more appropriate for a dealer39 in precious stones than for a department store, was disposed of almost at once. Gissing casually40 told Mrs. Mastiff that he had heard Mrs. Sealyham intended to buy it. As for Mrs. Dachshund, who had had a habit of lunching at Delmonico's, she now was to be seen taking tiffin at Beagle's almost daily. There were many husbands who would have been glad to shoot him at sight on the first of the month, had they known who was the real cause of their woe41.
Indeed, Gissing had raised floorwalking to a new level. He was more prime minister than a mere42 patroller of aisles43. With sparkling eye, with unending curiosity, tact44, and attention, he moved quietly among the throng45. He realized that shopping is the female paradise; that spending money she has not earned is the only real fun an elderly and wealthy lady can have; and if to this primitive46 shopping passion can be added the delights of social amenity—flattery, courtesy, good-humoured flirtation—the snare47 is complete.
But all this is not accomplished48 without rousing the jealousy49 of rivals. Among the other floorwalkers, and particularly in the gorgeously uniformed attendant at the front door (who was outraged50 by Gissing's habit of escorting special customers to their motors) moved anger, envy, and sneers51. Gissing, completely absorbed in the fascination52 of his work, was unaware53 of this hostility54, as he was equally unaware of the amazed satisfaction of his employer. He went his way with naive55 and unconscious pleasure. It did not take long for his enemies to find a fulcrum56 for their chagrin57. One evening, after closing, when he sat in the dressing room, with his feet in the usual tub of hot water, placidly58 reviewing the day's excitements and smoking his pipe, the superintendent60 burst in.
“Hey!” he exclaimed. “Don't you know smoking's forbidden? What do you want to do, get our fire insurance cancelled? Get out of here! You're fired!”
It did not occur to Gissing to question or protest. He had known perfectly61 well that smoking was not allowed. But he was like the stage hand behind the scenes who concluded it was all right to light a cigarette because the sign only said SMOKING FORBIDDEN, instead of SMOKING STRICTLY62 FORBIDDEN. He had not troubled his mind about it, one way or about it, one way or another.
He had drawn63 his salary that evening, and his first thought was, Well, at any rate I've earned enough to pay for the clothes. He had been there exactly four weeks. Quite calmly, he lifted his feet out of the tub and began to towel them daintily. The meticulous64 way he dried between his toes was infuriating to the superintendent.
“Have you any children?” Gissing asked, mildly.
“What's that to you?” snapped the other.
“I'll sell you this bathtub for a quarter. Take it home to them. They probably need it.”
“You get out of here!” cried the angry official.
“You'd be surprised,” said Gissing, “how children thrive when they're bathed regularly. Believe me, I know.”
He packed his formal clothes in a neat bundle, left the bathtub behind, surrendered his locker65 key, and walked toward the employees' door, escorted by his bristling66 superior. As they passed through the empty aisles, scene of his brief triumph, he could not help gazing a little sadly. True merchant to the last, a thought struck him. He scribbled67 a note on the back of a sales slip and left it at Miss Whippet's post by the stocking counter. It said:—
MISS WHIPPET: Show Mrs. Sealyham some of the bisque sports hose, Scotch68 wool, size 9. She's coming to-morrow. Don't let her get size 8 1/2. They shrink.
MR. GISSING.
At the door he paused, relit his pipe leisurely69, raised his hat to the superintendent, and strolled away.
In spite of this nonchalance70, the situation was serious. His money was at a low ebb71. All his regular income was diverted to the support of the large household in the country. He was too proud to appeal to his wealthy uncle. He hated also to think of Mrs. Purp's mortification72 if she learned that her star boarder was out of work. By a curious irony73, when he got home he found a letter from Mrs. Spaniel:—
MR. GISHING, dere friend, the pupeys are well, no insecks, and eat with nives and forx Groups is the fattest but Yelpers is the lowdest they send wags and lix and glad to here Daddy is doing so well in buisness with respects from
MRS. SPANIEL.
He did not let Mrs. Purp know of the change in his condition, and every morning left his lodging74 at the usual time. By some curious attraction he felt drawn to that downtown region where his kinsman's office was. This part of the city he had not properly explored.
It was a world wholly different from Fifth Avenue. There was none of that sense of space and luxury he had known on the wide slopes of Murray Hill. He wandered under terrific buildings, in a breezy shadow where javelins75 of colourless sunlight pierced through thin slits76, hot brilliance77 fell in fans and cascades78 over the uneven79 terrace of roofs. Here was where husbands worked to keep Fifth Avenue going: he wondered vaguely80 whether Mrs. Sealyham had bought those stockings? One day he saw his uncle hurrying along Wall Street with an intent face. Gissing skipped into a doorway81, fearing to be recognized. He knew that the old fellow would insist on taking him to lunch at the Pedigree Club, would talk endlessly, and ask family questions. But he was on the scent82 of matters that talk could not pursue.
He perceived a sense of pressure, of prodigious83 poetry and beauty and amazement84. This was a strange jungle of life. Tall coasts of windows stood up into the pure brilliant sky: against their feet beat a dark surf of slums. In one foreign street, too deeply trenched for sunlight, oranges were the only gold. The water, reaching round in two arms, came close: there was a note of husky summons in the whistles of passing craft. Almost everywhere, sharp above many smells of oils and spices, the whiff of coffee tingled85 his busy nose. Above one huge precipice86 stood a gilded87 statue—a boy with wings, burning in the noon. Brilliance flamed between the vanes of his pinions88: the intangible thrust of that pouring light seemed about to hover89 him off into blue air.
The world of working husbands was more tender than that of shopping wives: even in all their business, they had left space and quietness for the dead. Sunken among the crags he found two graveyards91. They were cups of placid59 brightness. Here, looking upward, it was like being drowned on the floor of an ocean of light. Husbands had built their offices half-way to the sky rather than disturb these. Perhaps they appreciate rest all the more, Gissing thought, because they get so little of it? Somehow he could not quite imagine a graveyard90 left at peace in the shopping district. It would be bad for trade, perhaps? Even the churches on the Avenue, he had noticed, were huddled92 up and hemmed93 in so tightly by the other buildings that they had scarcely room to kneel. If I ever become a parson, he said (this was a fantastic dream of his), I will insist that all churches must have a girdle of green about them, to set them apart from the world.
The two little brown churches among the cliffs had been gifted with a dignity far beyond the dream of their builders. Their pointing spires94 were relieved against the enormous facades95 of business. What other altars ever had such a reredos? Above the strepitant racket of the streets, he heard the harsh chimes of Trinity at noonday—strong jags of clangour hurled96 against the great sounding-boards of buildings; drifting and dying away down side alleys97. There was no soft music of appeal in the bronze volleying: it was the hoarse98 monitory voice of rebuke38. So spoke99 the church of old, he thought: not asking, not appealing, but imperatively100, sternly, as one born to command. He thought with new respect of Mr. Sealyham, Mr. Mastiff, Mr. Dachshund, all the others who were powers in these fantastic flumes of stone. They were more than merely husbands of charge accounts—they were poets. They sat at lunch on the tops of their amazing edifices101, and looked off at the blue.
Day after day went by, but with a serene102 fatalism Gissing did nothing about hunting a job. He was willing to wait until the last dollar was broken: in the meantime he was content. You never know the soul of a city, he said, until you are down on your luck. Now, he felt, he had been here long enough to understand her. She did not give her secrets to the world of Fifth Avenue. Down here, where the deep crevice103 of Broadway opened out into greenness, what was the first thing he saw? Out across the harbour, turned toward open sea—Liberty! Liberty Enlightening the World, he had heard, was her full name. Some had mocked her, he had also heard. Well, what was the gist104 of her enlightenment? Why this, surely: that Liberty could never be more than a statue: never a reality. Only a fool would expect complete liberty. He himself, with all his latitude105, was not free. If he were, he would cook his meals in his room, and save money—but Mrs. Purp was strict on that point. She had spoken scathingly of two young females she ejected for just that reason. Nor was Mrs. Purp free—she was ridden by the Gas Company. So it went.
It struck him, now he was down to about three dollars, that a generous gesture toward Fortune might be valuable. When you are nearly out of money, he reasoned, to toss coins to the gods—i. e., to buy something quite unnecessary—may be propitiatory106. It may start something moving in your direction. It is the touch of bravado107 that God relishes108. In a sudden mood of tenderness, he bought two dollars' worth of toys and had them sent to the children. He smiled to think how they would frolic over the jumping rabbit. He sent Mrs. Spaniel a postcard of the Aquarium109.
There is a good deal more to this business than I had realized, he said, as he walked uptown through the East Side slums that hot night. The audacity110, the vitality111, the magnificence, are plain enough. But I seem to see squalor too, horror and pitiful dearth112. I believe God is farther off than I thought. Look here: if the more you know, the less you know about God, doesn't that mean that God is really enjoyed only by the completely simple—by faith, never by reason?
He gave twenty-five cents to a beggar, and said angrily: “I am not interested in a God who is known only by faith.”
When he got uptown he was very tired and hungry. In spite of all Mrs. Purp's rules, he smuggled113 in an egg, a box of biscuits, a small packet of tea and sugar, and a tin of condensed milk. He emptied the milk into his shaving mug, and used the tin to boil water in, holding it over the gas jet. He was getting on finely when a sudden knock on the door made him jump. He spilled the hot water on his leg, and uttered a wild yell.
Mrs. Purp burst in, but she was so excited that she did not notice the egg seeping114 into the clean counterpane.
“Oh, Mr. Gissing,” she exclaimed, “I've been waiting all evening for you to come in. Purp and I wondered if you'd seen this in the paper to-night? Purp noticed it in the ads., but we couldn't understand what it meant.”
She held out a page of classified advertising115, in which he read with amazement:
PERSONAL
If MR. GISSING, late floorwalker at Beagle and Company, will communicate with Mr. Beagle Senior, he will hear matters greatly to his advantage.
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1
analyze
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| vt.分析，解析 (=analyse) | |
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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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aisle
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| n.（教堂、教室、戏院等里的）过道，通道 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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doctrinaire
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| adj.空论的 | |
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awareness
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| n.意识，觉悟，懂事，明智 | |
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squandered
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| v.（指钱，财产等）浪费，乱花( squander的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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glamour
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| n.魔力，魅力；vt.迷住 | |
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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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seizure
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| n.没收；占有；抵押 | |
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calculus
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| n.微积分；结石 | |
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fluency
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| n.流畅，雄辩，善辩 | |
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passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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bliss
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| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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meditation
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| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
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grudged
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| 怀恨（grudge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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sprawled
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| v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词)；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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prospective
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| adj.预期的，未来的，前瞻性的 | |
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lodgers
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| n.房客，租住者( lodger的名词复数 ) | |
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attire
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vacancy
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| n.（旅馆的）空位，空房，（职务的）空缺 | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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intoxication
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| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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exulting
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| vi. 欢欣鼓舞，狂喜 | |
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peculiarities
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limousine
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| n.豪华轿车 | |
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expeditiously
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| adv.迅速地，敏捷地 | |
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filet
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| n.肉片；鱼片 | |
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judicious
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| adj.明智的，明断的，能作出明智决定的 | |
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salon
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| n.[法]沙龙；客厅；营业性的高级服务室 | |
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rebuked
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rebuke
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| v.指责，非难，斥责 [反]praise | |
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dealer
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casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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aisles
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| n. (席位间的)通道, 侧廊 | |
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tact
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| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
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throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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snare
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| n.陷阱，诱惑，圈套；（去除息肉或者肿瘤的）勒除器；响弦，小军鼓；vt.以陷阱捕获，诱惑 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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outraged
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| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
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sneers
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| 讥笑的表情（言语）( sneer的名词复数 ) | |
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fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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hostility
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| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
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naive
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| adj.幼稚的，轻信的；天真的 | |
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56
fulcrum
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| n.杠杆支点 | |
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chagrin
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| n.懊恼；气愤；委屈 | |
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placidly
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| adv.平稳地，平静地 | |
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placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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superintendent
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| n.监督人，主管，总监；(英国)警务长 | |
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61
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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63
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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meticulous
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| adj.极其仔细的，一丝不苟的 | |
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locker
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| n.更衣箱，储物柜，冷藏室，上锁的人 | |
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bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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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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68
scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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69
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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nonchalance
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| n.冷淡，漠不关心 | |
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71
ebb
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| vi.衰退，减退；n.处于低潮，处于衰退状态 | |
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mortification
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| n.耻辱，屈辱 | |
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irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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74
lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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75
javelins
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| n.标枪( javelin的名词复数 ) | |
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76
slits
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| n.狭长的口子，裂缝( slit的名词复数 )v.切开，撕开( slit的第三人称单数 )；在…上开狭长口子 | |
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77
brilliance
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| n.光辉，辉煌，壮丽，（卓越的）才华，才智 | |
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78
cascades
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| 倾泻( cascade的名词复数 )； 小瀑布（尤指一连串瀑布中的一支）； 瀑布状物； 倾泻（或涌出）的东西 | |
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uneven
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| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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81
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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82
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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83
prodigious
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| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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85
tingled
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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86
precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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pinions
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| v.抓住[捆住]（双臂）( pinion的第三人称单数 ) | |
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89
hover
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| vi.翱翔，盘旋；徘徊；彷徨，犹豫 | |
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graveyard
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| n.坟场 | |
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graveyards
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| 墓地( graveyard的名词复数 )； 垃圾场； 废物堆积处； 收容所 | |
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huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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93
hemmed
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| 缝…的褶边( hem的过去式和过去分词 )； 包围 | |
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spires
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| n.（教堂的） 塔尖，尖顶( spire的名词复数 ) | |
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facades
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| n.（房屋的）正面( facade的名词复数 )；假象，外观 | |
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hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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alleys
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| 胡同，小巷( alley的名词复数 )； 小径 | |
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98
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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99
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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100
imperatively
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| adv.命令式地 | |
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101
edifices
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| n.大建筑物( edifice的名词复数 ) | |
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102
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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103
crevice
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| n.(岩石、墙等)裂缝；缺口 | |
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104
gist
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| n.要旨；梗概 | |
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105
latitude
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| n.纬度，行动或言论的自由(范围)，(pl.)地区 | |
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106
propitiatory
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| adj.劝解的；抚慰的；谋求好感的；哄人息怒的 | |
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107
bravado
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| n.虚张声势，故作勇敢，逞能 | |
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108
relishes
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| n.滋味( relish的名词复数 )；乐趣；（大量的）享受；快乐v.欣赏( relish的第三人称单数 )；从…获得乐趣；渴望 | |
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109
aquarium
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| n.水族馆，养鱼池，玻璃缸 | |
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110
audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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111
vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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112
dearth
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| n.缺乏，粮食不足，饥谨 | |
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113
smuggled
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| 水货 | |
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114
seeping
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| v.（液体）渗( seep的现在分词 )；渗透；渗出；漏出 | |
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115
advertising
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| n.广告业；广告活动 a.广告的；广告业务的 | |
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