Why does not some great author write ‘The Mysteries of the Club-houses; or St. James’s Street unveiled?’ It would be a fine subject for an imaginative writer. We must all, as boys, remember when we went to the fair, and had spent all our money — the sort of awe1 and anxiety with which we loitered round the outside of the show, speculating upon the nature of the entertainment going on within.
Man is a Drama — of Wonder and Passion, and Mystery and Meanness, and Beauty and Truthfulness2, and Etcetera. Each Bosom3 is a Booth in Vanity Fair. But let us stop this capital style, I should die if I kept it up for a column (a pretty thing a column all capitals would be, by the way). In a Club, though there mayn’t be a soul of your acquaintance in the room, you have always the chance of watching strangers, and speculating on what is going on within those tents and curtains of their souls, their coats and waistcoats. This is a never-failing sport. Indeed I am told there are some Clubs in the town where nobody ever speaks to anybody. They sit in the coffee-room, quite silent, and watching each other.
Yet how little you can tell from a man’s outward demeanour! There’s a man at our Club — large, heavy, middle-aged4 — gorgeously dressed — rather bald — with lacquered boots — and a boa when he goes out; quiet in demeanour, always ordering and consuming a RECHERCHE5 little dinner: whom I have mistaken for Sir John Pocklington any time these five years, and respected as a man with five hundred pounds PER DIEM; and I find he is but a clerk in an office in the City, with not two hundred pounds income, and his name is Jubber. Sir John Pocklington was, on the contrary, the dirty little snuffy man who cried out so about the bad quality of the beer, and grumbled6 at being overcharged three-halfpence for a herring, seated at the next table to Jubber on the day when some one pointed7 the Baronet out to me.
Take a different sort of mystery. I see, for instance, old Fawney stealing round the rooms of the Club, with glassy, meaningless eyes, and an endless greasy8 simper — he fawns9 on everybody he meets, and shakes hands with you, and blesses you, and betrays the most tender and astonishing interest in your welfare. You know him to be a quack10 and a rogue11, and he knows you know it. But he wriggles12 on his way, and leaves a track of slimy flattery after him wherever he goes. Who can penetrate13 that man’s mystery? What earthly good can he get from you or me? You don’t know what is working under that leering tranquil14 mask. You have only the dim instinctive15 repulsion that warns you, you are in the presence of a knave16 — beyond which fact all Fawney’s soul is a secret to you.
I think I like to speculate on the young men best. Their play is opener. You know the cards in their hand, as it were. Take, for example, Messrs. Spavin and Cockspur.
A specimen17 or two of the above sort of young fellows may be found, I believe, at most Clubs. They know nobody. They bring a fine smell of cigars into the room with them, and they growl18 together, in a corner, about sporting matters. They recollect19 the history of that short period in which they have been ornaments20 of the world by the names of winning horses. As political men talk about ‘the Reform year,’ ‘the year the Whigs went out,’ and so forth21, these young sporting bucks22 speak of TARNATION’S year, or OPODELDOC’S year, or the year when CATAWAMPUS ran second for the Chester Cup. They play at billiards23 in the morning, they absorb pale ale for breakfast, and ‘top up’ with glasses of strong waters. They read BELL’S LIFE (and a very pleasant paper too, with a great deal of erudition in the answers to correspondents). They go down to Tattersall’s, and swagger in the Park, with their hands plunged24 in the pockets of their paletots.
What strikes me especially in the outward demeanour of sporting youth is their amazing gravity, their conciseness25 of speech, and careworn26 and moody27 air. In the smoking-room at the ‘Regent,’ when Joe Millerson will be setting the whole room in a roar with laughter, you hear young Messrs. Spavin and Cockspur grumbling28 together in a corner. ‘I’ll take your five-and-twenty to one about Brother to Bluenose,’ whispers Spavin. ‘Can’t do it at the price,’ Cockspur says, wagging his head ominously29. The betting-book is always present in the minds of those unfortunate youngsters. I think I hate that work even more than the ‘Peerage.’ There is some good in the latter — though, generally speaking, a vain record: though De Mogyns is not descended30 from the giant Hogyn Mogyn; though half the other genealogies31 are equally false and foolish; yet the mottoes are good reading — some of them; and the book itself a sort of gold-laced and livened lackey32 to History, and in so far serviceable. But what good ever came out of, or went into, a betting-book? If I could be Caliph Omar for a week, I would pitch every one of those despicable manuscripts into the flames; from my Lord’s, who is ‘in’ with Jack33 Snaffle’s stable, and is over-reaching worse-informed rogues34 and swindling greenhorns, down to Sam’s, the butcher-boy’s, who books eighteenpenny odds35 in the tap-room, and ‘stands to win five-and-twenty bob.’
In a turf transaction, either Spavin or Cockspur would try to get the better of his father, and, to gain a point in the odds, victimise his best friends. One day we shall hear of one or other levanting; an event at which, not being sporting men, we shall not break our hearts. See — Mr. Spavin is settling his toilette previous to departure; giving a curl in the glass to his side-wisps of hair. Look at him! It is only at the hulks, or among turf-men, that you ever see a face so mean, so knowing, and so gloomy.
A much more humane36 being among the youthful Clubbists is the Lady-killing Snob37. I saw Wiggle just now in the dressing-room, talking to Waggle, his inseparable.
WAGGLE.—‘Pon my honour, Wiggle, she did.’
WIGGLE.—‘Well, Waggle, as you say — I own I think she DID look at me rather kindly38. We’ll see to-night at the French play.’
And having arrayed their little persons, these two harmless young bucks go upstairs to dinner.
1 awe | |
n.敬畏,惊惧;vt.使敬畏,使惊惧 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
2 truthfulness | |
n. 符合实际 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
3 bosom | |
n.胸,胸部;胸怀;内心;adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
4 middle-aged | |
adj.中年的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
5 recherche | |
adj.精选的;罕有的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
6 grumbled | |
抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 ); 发牢骚; 咕哝; 发哼声 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
7 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
8 greasy | |
adj. 多脂的,油脂的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
9 fawns | |
n.(未满一岁的)幼鹿( fawn的名词复数 );浅黄褐色;乞怜者;奉承者v.(尤指狗等)跳过来往人身上蹭以示亲热( fawn的第三人称单数 );巴结;讨好 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
10 quack | |
n.庸医;江湖医生;冒充内行的人;骗子 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
11 rogue | |
n.流氓;v.游手好闲 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
12 wriggles | |
n.蠕动,扭动( wriggle的名词复数 )v.扭动,蠕动,蜿蜒行进( wriggle的第三人称单数 );(使身体某一部位)扭动;耍滑不做,逃避(应做的事等) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
13 penetrate | |
v.透(渗)入;刺入,刺穿;洞察,了解 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
14 tranquil | |
adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
15 instinctive | |
adj.(出于)本能的;直觉的;(出于)天性的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
16 knave | |
n.流氓;(纸牌中的)杰克 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
17 specimen | |
n.样本,标本 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
18 growl | |
v.(狗等)嗥叫,(炮等)轰鸣;n.嗥叫,轰鸣 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
19 recollect | |
v.回忆,想起,记起,忆起,记得 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
20 ornaments | |
n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 );点缀;装饰品;首饰v.装饰,点缀,美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
21 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
22 bucks | |
n.雄鹿( buck的名词复数 );钱;(英国十九世纪初的)花花公子;(用于某些表达方式)责任v.(马等)猛然弓背跃起( buck的第三人称单数 );抵制;猛然震荡;马等尥起后蹄跳跃 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
23 billiards | |
n.台球 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
24 plunged | |
v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 );暴跌;骤降;突降 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
25 conciseness | |
n.简洁,简短 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
26 careworn | |
adj.疲倦的,饱经忧患的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
27 moody | |
adj.心情不稳的,易怒的,喜怒无常的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
28 grumbling | |
adj. 喃喃鸣不平的, 出怨言的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
29 ominously | |
adv.恶兆地,不吉利地;预示地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
30 descended | |
a.为...后裔的,出身于...的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
31 genealogies | |
n.系谱,家系,宗谱( genealogy的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
32 lackey | |
n.侍从;跟班 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
33 jack | |
n.插座,千斤顶,男人;v.抬起,提醒,扛举;n.(Jake)杰克 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
34 rogues | |
n.流氓( rogue的名词复数 );无赖;调皮捣蛋的人;离群的野兽 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
35 odds | |
n.让步,机率,可能性,比率;胜败优劣之别 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
36 humane | |
adj.人道的,富有同情心的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
37 snob | |
n.势利小人,自以为高雅、有学问的人 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
38 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
欢迎访问英文小说网 |