‘I doe believe that, as the gall1 has several receptacles in several creatures, soe there’s scarce any creature but hath that emunctorye somewhere.’ — SIR THOMAS BROWNE.
FANCY what a game at chess would be if all the chessmen had passions and intellects, more or less small and cunning: if you were not only uncertain about your adversary’s men, but a little uncertain also about your own; if your knight2 could shuffle3 himself on to a new square by the sly; if your bishop4, in disgust at your castling, could wheedle5 your pawns6 out of their places; and if your pawns, hating you because they are pawns, could make away from their appointed posts that you might get checkmate on a sudden. You might be the longest-headed of deductive reasoners, and yet you might be beaten by your own pawns. You would be especially likely to be beaten, if you depended arrogantly8 on your mathematical imagination, and regarded your passionate9 pieces with contempt.
Yet this imaginary chess is easy compared with the game a man has to play against his fellow-men with other fellow-men for his instruments. He thinks himself sagacious, perhaps, because he trusts no bond except that of self-interest; but the only self-interest he can safely rely on is what seems to be such to the mind he would use or govern. Can he ever be sure of knowing this?
Matthew Jermyn was under no misgivings10 as to the fealty11 of Johnson. He had ‘been the making of Johnson’; and this seems to many men a reason for expecting devotion, in spite of the fact that they themselves, though very fond of their own persons and lives, are not at all devoted12 to the Maker13 they believe in. Johnson was a most serviceable subordinate. Being a man who aimed at respectability, a family man, who had a good church-pew, subscribed14 for engravings of banquet pictures where there were portraits of political celebrities16, and wished his children to be more unquestionably genteel than their father, he presented all the more numerous handles of worldly motive17 by which a judicious18 superior might keep a hold on him. But this useful regard to respectability had its inconvenience in relation to such a superior: it was a mark of some vanity and some pride, which, if they were not touched just in the right handlling-place, were liable to become raw and sensitive. Jermyn was aware of Johnson’s weaknesses, and thought he had flattered them sufficiently19. But on the point of knowing when we are disagreeable, our human nature is fallible. Our lavender-water, our smiles, our compliments, and other polite falsities, are constantly offensive, when in the very nature of them they can only be meant to attract admiration20 and regard. Jermyn had often been unconsciously disagreeable to Johnson, over and above the constant offence of being an ostentatious patron. He would never let Johnson dine with his wife and daughters; he would not himself dine at Johnson’s house when he was in town. He often did what was equivalent to pooh-poohing his conversation by not even appearing to listen, and by suddenly cutting it short with a query21 on a new subject. Jermyn was able and politic15 enough to have commanded a great deal of success in his life, but he could not help being handsome, arrogant7, fond of being heard, indisposed to any kind of comradeship, amorous22 and bland23 towards women, cold and self-contained towards men. You will hear very strong denial that an attorney’s being handsome could enter into the dislike he excited; but conversation consists a good deal in the denial of what is true. From the British point of view masculine beauty is regarded very much as it is in the drapery business: as good solely24 for the fancy department — for young noblemen, artists, poets, and the clergy25. Some one who, like Mr Lingon, was disposed to revile26 Jermyn (perhaps it was Sir Maximus), had called him ‘a cursed, sleek27, handsome, long-winded, over-bearing sycophant;’ epithets28 which expressed, rather confusedly, the mingled29 character of the dislike he excited. And serviceable John Johnson, himself sleek, and mindful about his broadcloth and his cambric fronts, had what he considered ‘spirit’ enough within him to feel that dislike of Jermyn gradually gathering30 force through years of obligation and subjection, till it had become an actuating motive disposed to use an opportunity, if not to watch for one.
It was not this motive, however, but rather the ordinary course of business, which accounted for Johnson’s playing a double part as an electioneering agent. What men do in elections is not to be classed either among sins or marks of grace: it would be profane31 to include business in religion, and conscience refers to failure, not to success. Still, the sense of being galled32 by Jermyn’s harness was an additional reason for cultivating all relations that were independent of him; and pique33 at Harold Transome’s behaviour to him in Jermyn’s office perhaps gave all the more zest34 to Johnson’s use of his pen and ink when he wrote a handbill in the service of Garstin, and Garstin’s incomparable agent, Putty, full of innuendoes35 against Harold Transome, as a descendant of the Durfey–Transomes. It is a natural subject of self-congratulation to a man, when special knowledge, gained long ago without any forecast, turns out to afford a special inspiration in the present; and Johnson felt a new pleasure in the consciousness that he of all people in the world next to Jermyn had the most intimate knowledge of the Transome affairs. Still better — some of these affairs were secrets of Jermyn’s. If in an uncomplimentary spirit he might have been called Jermyn’s ‘man of straw’, it was a satisfaction to know that the unreality of the man John Johnson was confined to his appearance in annuity36 deeds, and that elsewhere he was solid, locomotive, and capable of remembering anything for his own pleasure and benefit. To act with doubleness towards a man whose own conduct was double, was so near an approach to virtue37 that it deserved to be called by no meaner name than diplomacy38.
By such causes it came to pass that Christian39 held in his hands a bill in which Jermyn was playfully alluded40 to as Mr German Cozen41, who won games by clever shuffling42 and odd tricks without any honour, and backed Durfey’s crib against Bycliffe, — in which it was adroitly43 implied that the so-called head of the Transomes was only the tail of the Durfeys, — and that some said the Durfeys would have died out and left their nest empty if it had not been for their German Cozen.
Johnson had not dared to use any recollections except such as might credibly44 exist in other minds besides his own. In the truth of the case, no one but himself had the prompting to recall these outworn scandals; but it was likely enough that such foul-winged things should be revived by election heats for Johnson to escape all suspicion.
Christian could gather only dim and uncertain inferences from this ‘dat irony45 and heavy joking; but one chief thing was clear to him. He had been right in his conjecture46 that Jermyn’s interest about Bycliffe had its source in some claim of Bycliffe’s on the Transome property. And then, there was that story of the old bill-sticker’s, which, closely considered, indicated that the right of the present Transomes depended, or at least had depended, on the continuance of some other lives. Christian in his time had gathered enough legal notions to be aware that possession by one man sometimes depended on the life of another; that a man might sell his own interest in property, and the interest of his descendants, while a claim on that property would still remain to some one else than the purchaser, supposing the descendants became extinct, and the interest they had sold were at an end. But under what conditions the claim might be valid47 or void in any particular case, was all darkness to him. Suppose Bycliffe had any such claim on the Transome estates: how was Christian to know whether at the present moment it was worth anything more than a bit of rotten parchment? Old Tommy Trounsem had said that Johnson knew all about it. But even if Johnson were still above-ground — and all Johnsons are mortal — he might still be an understrapper of Jermyn’s, in which case his knowledge would be on the wrong side of the hedge for the purposes of Henry Scaddon. His immediate48 care must be to find out all he could about Johnson. He blamed himself for not having questioned Tommy further while he had him at command; but on this head the bill-sticker could hardly know more than the less dilapidated denizens49 of Treby.
Now it had happened that during the weeks in which Christian had been at work in trying to solve the enigma50 of Jermyn’s interest about Bycliffe, Johnson’s mind also had been somewhat occupied with suspicion and conjecture as to new information on the subject of the old Bycliffe claims which Jermyn intended to conceal51 from him. The letter which, after his interview with Christian, Jermyn had written with a sense of perfect safety to his faithful ally Johnson, was, as we know, written to a Johnson who had found his self-love incompatible52 with that faithfulness of which it was supposed to be the foundation. Anything that the patron felt it inconvenient53 for his obliged friend and servant to know, became by that very fact an object of peculiar54 curiosity. The obliged friend and servant secretly doted on his patron’s inconvenience, provided that he himself did not share it; and conjecture naturally became active.
Johnson’s legal imagination, being very differently furnished from Christian’s, was at no loss to conceive conditions under which there might arise a new claim on the Transome estates. He had before him the whole history of the settlement of those estates made a hundred years ago by John Justus Transome, entailing55 them, whilst in his possession, on his son Thomas and his heirs-male, with remainder to the Bycliffes in fee. He knew that Thomas, son of John Justus, proving a prodigal56, had, without the knowledge of his father, the tenant57 in possession, sold his own and his descendants’ rights to a lawyer-cousin named Durfey; that, therefore, the title of the Durfey–Transomes, in spite of that old Durfey’s tricks to show the contrary, depended solely on the purchase of the ‘base fee’ thus created by Thomas Transome; and that the Bycliffes were the ‘remainder-men’ who might fairly oust58 the Durfey–Transomes if ever the issue of the prodigal Thomas went clean out of existence, and ceased to represent a right which he had bargained away from them.
Johnson, as Jermyn’s subordinate, had been closely cognisant of the details concerning the suit instituted by successive Bycliffes, of whom Maurice Christian Bycliffe was the last, on the plea that the extinction59 of Thomas Transome’s line had actually come to pass — a weary suit, which had eaten into the fortunes of two families, and had only made the cankerworms fat. The suit had closed with the death of Maurice Christian Bycliffe in prison; but before his death, Jermyn’s exertions60 to get evidence that there was still issue of Thomas Transome’s line surviving, as a security of the Durfey title, had issued in the discovery of a Thomas Transome at Littleshaw, in Stonyshire, who was the representative of a pawned61 inheritance. The death of Maurice had made this discovery useless — had made it seem the wiser part to say nothing about it; and the fact had remained a secret known only to Jermyn and Johnson. No other Bycliffe was known or believed to exist, and the Durfey–Transomes might be considered safe, unless — yes, there was an ‘unless’ which Johnson could conceive: an heir or heiress of the Bycliffes — if such a personage turned out to be in existence — might some time raise a new and valid claim when once informed that wretched old Tommy Trounsem the bill-sticker, tottering62 drunkenly on the edge of the grave, was the last issue remaining above ground from that dissolute Thomas who played his Esau part a century before. While the poor old bill-sticker breathed, the Durfey–Transomes could legally keep their possession in spite of a possible Bycliffe proved real; but not when the parish had buried the bill-sticker.
Still, it is one thing to conceive conditions, and another to see any chance of proving their existence. Johnson at present had no glimpse of such a chance; and even if he ever gained the glimpse, he was not sure that he should ever make any use of it. His inquiries63 of Medwin, in obedience64 to Jermyn’s letter, had extracted only a negative as to any information possessed65 by the lawyers of Bycliffe concerning a marriage, or expectation of offspring on his part. But Johnson felt not the less stung by curiosity to know what Jermyn had found out that he had found something in relation to a possible Bycliffe, Johnson felt pretty sure. And he thought with satisfaction that Jermyn could not hinder him from knowing what he already knew about Thomas Transome’s issue. Many things might occur to alter his policy and give a new value to facts. Was it certain that Jermyn would always be fortunate?
When greed and unscrupulousness exhibit themselves on a grand historical scale, and there is question of peace or war or amicable66 partition, it often occurs that gentlemen of high diplomatic talents have their minds bent67 on the same object from different points of view. Each, perhaps, is thinking of a certain duchy or province, with a view to arranging the ownership in such a way as shall best serve the purposes of the gentleman with high diplomatic talents in whom each is more especially interested. But these select minds in high office can never miss their aims from ignorance of each other’s existence or whereabouts. Their high titles may be learned even by common people from every pocket almanac.
But with meaner diplomatists, who might be mutually useful, such ignorance is often obstructive. Mr John Johnson and Mr Christian, otherwise Henry Scaddon, might have had a concentration of purpose and an ingenuity68 of device fitting them to make a figure in the parcelling of Europe, and yet they might never have met, simply because Johnson knew nothing of Christian, and because Christian did not know where to find Johnson.
1 gall | |
v.使烦恼,使焦躁,难堪;n.磨难 | |
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2 knight | |
n.骑士,武士;爵士 | |
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3 shuffle | |
n.拖著脚走,洗纸牌;v.拖曳,慢吞吞地走 | |
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4 bishop | |
n.主教,(国际象棋)象 | |
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5 wheedle | |
v.劝诱,哄骗 | |
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6 pawns | |
n.(国际象棋中的)兵( pawn的名词复数 );卒;被人利用的人;小卒v.典当,抵押( pawn的第三人称单数 );以(某事物)担保 | |
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7 arrogant | |
adj.傲慢的,自大的 | |
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8 arrogantly | |
adv.傲慢地 | |
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9 passionate | |
adj.热情的,热烈的,激昂的,易动情的,易怒的,性情暴躁的 | |
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10 misgivings | |
n.疑虑,担忧,害怕;疑虑,担心,恐惧( misgiving的名词复数 );疑惧 | |
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11 fealty | |
n.忠贞,忠节 | |
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12 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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13 maker | |
n.制造者,制造商 | |
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14 subscribed | |
v.捐助( subscribe的过去式和过去分词 );签署,题词;订阅;同意 | |
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15 politic | |
adj.有智虑的;精明的;v.从政 | |
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16 celebrities | |
n.(尤指娱乐界的)名人( celebrity的名词复数 );名流;名声;名誉 | |
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17 motive | |
n.动机,目的;adv.发动的,运动的 | |
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18 judicious | |
adj.明智的,明断的,能作出明智决定的 | |
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19 sufficiently | |
adv.足够地,充分地 | |
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20 admiration | |
n.钦佩,赞美,羡慕 | |
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21 query | |
n.疑问,问号,质问;vt.询问,表示怀疑 | |
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22 amorous | |
adj.多情的;有关爱情的 | |
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23 bland | |
adj.淡而无味的,温和的,无刺激性的 | |
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24 solely | |
adv.仅仅,唯一地 | |
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25 clergy | |
n.[总称]牧师,神职人员 | |
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26 revile | |
v.辱骂,谩骂 | |
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27 sleek | |
adj.光滑的,井然有序的;v.使光滑,梳拢 | |
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28 epithets | |
n.(表示性质、特征等的)词语( epithet的名词复数 ) | |
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29 mingled | |
混合,混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 ); 混进,与…交往[联系] | |
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30 gathering | |
n.集会,聚会,聚集 | |
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31 profane | |
adj.亵神的,亵渎的;vt.亵渎,玷污 | |
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32 galled | |
v.使…擦痛( gall的过去式和过去分词 );擦伤;烦扰;侮辱 | |
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33 pique | |
v.伤害…的自尊心,使生气 n.不满,生气 | |
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34 zest | |
n.乐趣;滋味,风味;兴趣 | |
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35 innuendoes | |
n.影射的话( innuendo的名词复数 );讽刺的话;含沙射影;暗讽 | |
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36 annuity | |
n.年金;养老金 | |
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37 virtue | |
n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
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38 diplomacy | |
n.外交;外交手腕,交际手腕 | |
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39 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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40 alluded | |
提及,暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41 cozen | |
v.欺骗,哄骗 | |
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42 shuffling | |
adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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43 adroitly | |
adv.熟练地,敏捷地 | |
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44 credibly | |
ad.可信地;可靠地 | |
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45 irony | |
n.反语,冷嘲;具有讽刺意味的事,嘲弄 | |
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46 conjecture | |
n./v.推测,猜测 | |
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47 valid | |
adj.有确实根据的;有效的;正当的,合法的 | |
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48 immediate | |
adj.立即的;直接的,最接近的;紧靠的 | |
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49 denizens | |
n.居民,住户( denizen的名词复数 ) | |
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50 enigma | |
n.谜,谜一样的人或事 | |
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51 conceal | |
v.隐藏,隐瞒,隐蔽 | |
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52 incompatible | |
adj.不相容的,不协调的,不相配的 | |
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53 inconvenient | |
adj.不方便的,令人感到麻烦的 | |
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54 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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55 entailing | |
使…成为必要( entail的现在分词 ); 需要; 限定继承; 使必需 | |
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56 prodigal | |
adj.浪费的,挥霍的,放荡的 | |
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57 tenant | |
n.承租人;房客;佃户;v.租借,租用 | |
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58 oust | |
vt.剥夺,取代,驱逐 | |
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59 extinction | |
n.熄灭,消亡,消灭,灭绝,绝种 | |
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60 exertions | |
n.努力( exertion的名词复数 );费力;(能力、权力等的)运用;行使 | |
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61 pawned | |
v.典当,抵押( pawn的过去式和过去分词 );以(某事物)担保 | |
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62 tottering | |
adj.蹒跚的,动摇的v.走得或动得不稳( totter的现在分词 );踉跄;蹒跚;摇摇欲坠 | |
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63 inquiries | |
n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 );疑问;探究;打听 | |
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64 obedience | |
n.服从,顺从 | |
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65 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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66 amicable | |
adj.和平的,友好的;友善的 | |
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67 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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68 ingenuity | |
n.别出心裁;善于发明创造 | |
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