If the old man was a little late, as sometimes happened, he might find his colleagues there before him. Miss Muriel Brill, the typist, and the eldest14 daughter of Mr. John T. Brill, would be seated in her typist’s chair, her heavy legs crossed as she bent15 over to undo16 the metal latches17 of the thick galoshes she wore during the winter season. It is true there were also other seasons when Miss Brill did not wear galoshes, but so sharply and strongly do our memories connect people with certain gestures which, often for an inscrutable reason, seem characteristic of them, that any frequent visitor to these offices at this time of day would doubtless have remembered Miss Brill as always unfastening her galoshes. But the probable reason is that some people inevitably18 belong to seasons, and this girl’s season was winter — not blizzards19 or howling winds, or the blind skirl and sweep of snow, but grey, grim, raw, thick, implacable winter: the endless successions of grey days and grey monotony. There was no spark of colour in her, her body was somewhat thick and heavy, her face was white, dull, and thick-featured and instead of tapering20 downwards21, it tapered23 up: it was small above, and thick and heavy below, and even in her speech, the words she uttered seemed to have been chosen by an automaton24, and could only be remembered later by their desolate25 banality26. One always remembered her as saying as one entered: “ . . . Hello! . . . You’re becoming quite a strangeh! . . . It’s been some time since you was around, hasn’t it? . . . I was thinkin’ the otheh day it had been some time since you was around. . . . I’d begun to think you had forgotten us. . . . Well, how’ve you been? Lookin’ the same as usual, I see. . . . Me? . . . Oh, can’t complain. . . . Keepin’ busy? I’LL say! I manage to keep goin’. . . . Who you lookin’ for? Father? He’s in THERE. . . . Why, yeah! Go right on in.”
This was Miss Brill, and at the moment that she bent to unfasten her galoshes, it is likely that Mr. Samuel Friedman would also be there in the act of rubbing his small dry hands briskly together, or of rubbing the back of one hand with the palm of the other in order to induce circulation. He was a small youngish man, a pale somewhat meagre-looking little Jew with a sharp ferret face: he, too, was a person who goes to “fill in” those vast swarming27 masses of people along the pavements and in the subway — the mind cannot remember them or absorb the details of their individual appearance, but they people the earth, they make up life. Mr. Friedman had none of the richness, colour, and humour that some members of his race so abundantly possess; the succession of grey days, the grim weather seemed to have entered his soul as it enters the souls of many different races there — the Irish, the older New England stock, even the Jews — and it gives them a common touch that is prim28, drab, careful, tight and sour. Mr. Friedman also wore galoshes, his clothes were neat, drab, a little worn and shiny, there was an odour of thawing29 dampness and warm rubber about him as he rubbed his dry little hands saying: “Chee! How I hated to leave that good wahm bed this morning! When I got up I said, ‘HOLY Chee!’ My wife says, ‘Whatsa mattah?’ I says, ‘Holy Chee! You step out heah a moment where I am an’ you’ll see whatsa mattah.’ ‘Is it cold?’ she says. ‘Is it cold! I’ll tell the cock-eyed wuhld!’ I says. Chee! You could have cut the frost with an axe31: the wateh in the pitchehs was frozen hahd; an’ she has the nuhve to ask me if it’s cold! Is it cold!’ I says. ‘Do you know any more funny stories?’ I says. Oh, how I do love my bed! Chee! I kept thinkin’ of that guy in Braintree I got to go see today an’ the more I thought about him, the less I liked him! I thought my feet would tu’n into two blocks of ice before I got the funniss stahted! ‘Chee! I hope the ole bus is still workin’,’ I says. If I’ve got to go thaw30 that damned thing out,’ I says, ‘I’m ready to quit.’ Chee! Well, suh, I neveh had a bit of trouble: she stahted right up an’ the way that ole moteh was workin’ is nobody’s business.”
During the course of this monologue32 Miss Brill would give ear and assent33 from time to time by the simple interjection: “Uh!” It was a sound she uttered frequently, it had somewhat the same meaning as “Yes,” but it was more non-committal than “Yes.” It seemed to render assent to the speaker, to let him know that he was being heard and understood, but it did not commit the auditor34 to any opinion, or to any real agreement.
The third member of this office staff, who was likely to be present at this time, was a gentleman named Stanley P. Ward22. Mr. Stanley P. Ward was a neat middling figure of a man, aged35 fifty or thereabouts; he was plump and had a pink tender skin, a trim Vandyke, and a nice comfortable little pot of a belly36 which slipped snugly37 into the well-pressed and well-brushed garments that always fitted him so tidily. He was a bit of a fop, and it was at once evident that he was quietly but enormously pleased with himself. He carried himself very sprucely, he took short rapid steps and his neat little paunch gave his figure a movement not unlike that of a pouter pigeon. He was usually in quiet but excellent spirits, he laughed frequently and a smile — rather a subtly amused look — was generally playing about the edges of his mouth. That smile and his laugh made some people vaguely38 uncomfortable: there was a kind of deliberate falseness in them, as if what he really thought and felt was not to be shared with other men. He seemed, in fact, to have discovered some vital and secret power, some superior knowledge and wisdom, from which the rest of mankind was excluded, a sense that he was “chosen” above other men, and this impression of Mr. Stanley Ward would have been correct, for he was a Christian39 Scientist, he was a pillar of the Church, and a very big Church at that — for Mr. Ward, dressed in fashionable striped trousers, rubber soles, and a cut-away coat, might be found somewhere under the mighty40 dome41 of the Mother Church on Huntingdon Avenue every Sunday suavely42, noiselessly, and expertly ushering43 the faithful to their pews.
This completes the personnel of the first office of the John T. Brill Realty Company, and if Bascom Pentland arrived late, if these three people were already present, if Mr. Bascom Pentland had not been defrauded44 of any part of his worldly goods by some contriving45 rascal46 of whom the world has many, if his life had not been imperilled by some speed maniac47, if the damnable New England weather was not too damnable, if, in short, Bascom Pentland was in fairly good spirits he would on entering immediately howl in a high, rapid, remote and perfectly48 monotonous49 tone: “Hello, Hello, Hello! Good morning, Good morning, Good-morning!”— after which he would close his eyes, grimace50 horribly, press his rubbery lip against his big horse-teeth, and snuffle with laughter through his nose, as if pleased by a tremendous stroke of wit. At this demonstration51 the other members of the group would glance at one another with those knowing, subtly supercilious52 nods and winks53, that look of common self-congratulation and humour with which the more “normal” members of society greet the conduct of an eccentric, and Mr. Samuel Friedman would say: “What’s the mattah with you, Pop? You look happy. Some one musta give you a shot in the ahm.”
At which, a course powerful voice, deliberate and rich with its intimation of immense and earthy vulgarity, might roar out of the depth of the inner office: “No, I’ll tell you what it is.” Here the great figure of Mr. John T. Brill, the head of the business, would darken the doorway54. “Don’t you know what’s wrong with the Reverend? It’s that widder he’s been takin’ around.” Here, the phlegmy burble that prefaced all of Mr. Brill’s obscenities would appear in his voice, the shadow of a lewd55 smile would play around the corner of his mouth: “It’s the widder. She’s let him have a little of it.”
At this delicate stroke of humour, the burble would burst open in Mr. Brill’s great red throat, and he would roar with that high, choking, phlegmy laughter that is frequent among big red-faced men. Mr. Friedman would laugh drily (“Heh, heh, heh, heh, heh!”), Mr. Stanley Ward would laugh more heartily56, but complacently57, and Miss Brill would snicker in a coy and subdued58 manner as became a modest young girl. As for Bascom Pentland, if he was really in a good humour, he might snuffle with nosy59 laughter, bend double at his meagre waist, clutching his big hands together, and stamp at the floor violently several times with one stringy leg; he might even go so far as to take a random60 ecstatic kick at objects, still stamping and snuffling with laughter, and prod61 Miss Brill stiffly with two enormous bony fingers, as if he did not wish the full point and flavour of the jest to be lost on her.
Bascom Pentland, however, was a very complicated person with many moods, and if Mr. Brill’s fooling did not catch him in a receptive one, he might contort his face in a pucker62 of refined disgust, and mutter his disapproval63, as he shook his head rapidly from side to side. Or he might rise to great heights of moral denunciation, beginning at first in a grave low voice that showed the seriousness of the words he had to utter: “The lady to whom you refer,” he would begin, “the very charming and cultivated lady whose name, sir”— here his voice would rise on its howling note and he would wag his great bony forefinger64 —“whose name, sir, you have so foully65 traduced66 and blackened —”
“No, I wasn’t, Reverend. I was only tryin’ to whiten it,” said Mr. Brill, beginning to burble with laughter.
“— Whose name, sir, you have so foully traduced and blackened with your smutty suggestions,” Bascom continued implacably, “— that lady is known to me, as you very well know, sir,” he howled, wagging his great finger again, “solely and simply in a professional capacity.”
“Why, hell, Reverend,” said Mr. Brill innocently, “I never knew she was a perfessional. I thought she was an amatoor.”
At this conclusive67 stroke, Mr. Brill would make the whole place tremble with his laughter, Mr. Friedman would laugh almost noiselessly, holding himself weakly at the stomach and bending across a desk, Mr. Ward would have short bursts and fits of laughter, as he gazed out the window, shaking his head deprecatingly from time to time, as if his more serious nature disapproved68, and Miss Brill would snicker, and turn to her machine, remarking: “This conversation is getting too rough for me!”
And Bascom, if this jesting touched his complex soul at one of those moments when such profanity shocked him, would walk away, confiding69 into vacancy70, it seemed, with his powerful and mobile features contorted in the most eloquent71 expression of disgust and loathing72 ever seen on any face, the while he muttered, in a resonant73 whisper that shuddered74 with passionate75 revulsion: “Oh, BAD! Oh, BAD! Oh, BAD! BAD! BAD!”— shaking his head slightly from side to side with each word.
Yet there were other times, when Brill’s swingeing vulgarity, the vast coarse sweep of his profanity not only found Uncle Bascom in a completely receptive mood, but evoked76 from him gleeful responses, counter-essays in swearing which he made slyly, craftily77, snickering with pleasure and squinting78 around at his listeners at the sound of the words, and getting such stimulus79 from them as might a renegade clergyman exulting80 in a feeling of depravity and abandonment for the first time.
To the other people in this office — that is, to Friedman, Ward, and Muriel, the stenographer81 — the old man was always an enigma82; at first they had observed his peculiarities83 of speech and dress, his eccentricity84 of manner, and the sudden, violent, and complicated fluctuation85 of his temperament86, with astonishment87 and wonder, then with laughter and ridicule88, and now, with dull, uncomprehending acceptance. Nothing he did or said surprised them any more, they had no understanding and little curiosity, they accepted him as a fact in the grey schedule of their lives. Their relation to him was habitually89 touched by a kind of patronizing banter90 —“kidding the old boy along,” they would have called it — by the communication of smug superior winks and the conspiracy91 of feeble jests. And in this there was something base and ignoble92, for Bascom was a better man than any of them.
He did not notice any of this, it is not likely he would have cared if he had, for, like most eccentrics, his thoughts were usually buried in a world of his own creating to whose every fact and feeling and motion he was the central actor. Again, as much as any of his extraordinary family, he had carried with him throughout his life the sense that he was “fated”— a sense that was strong in all of them — that his life was pivotal to all the actions of providence93, that, in short, the time might be out of joint94, but not himself. Nothing but death could shake his powerful egotism, and his occasional storms of fury, his railing at the world, his tirades95 of invective96 at some motorist, pedestrian, or labourer occurred only when he discovered that these people were moving in a world at cross-purposes to his own and that some action of theirs had disturbed or shaken the logic97 of his universe.
It was curious that, of all the people in the office, the person who had the deepest understanding and respect for him was John T. Brill. Mr. Brill was a huge creature of elemental desires and passions: a river of profanity rushed from his mouth with the relentless98 sweep and surge of the Mississippi, he could no more have spoken without swearing than a whale could swim in a frog-pond — he swore at everything, at everyone, and with every breath, casually99 and unconsciously, and yet when he addressed Bascom his oath was always impersonal100 and tinged101 subtly by a feeling of respect.
Thus, he would speak to Uncle Bascom somewhat in this fashion: “God-damn it, Pentland, did you ever look up the title for that stuff in Maiden102? That feller’s been callin’ up every day to find out about it.”
“Which fellow?” Bascom asked precisely103. “The man from Cambridge?’”
“No,” said Mr. Brill, “not him, the other son of a bitch, the Dorchester feller. How the hell am I goin’ to tell him anything if there’s no goddamn title for the stuff?”
Profane104 and typical as this speech was, it was always shaded nicely with impersonality105 toward Bascom — conscious to the full of the distinction between “damn IT” and “damn YOU.” Toward his other colleagues, however, Mr. Brill was neither nice nor delicate.
Brill was an enormous man physically106: he was six feet two or three inches tall, and his weight was close to three hundred pounds. He was totally bald, his skull107 was a gleaming satiny pink; above his great red moon of face, with its ponderous and pendulous108 jowls, it looked almost egg-shaped. And in the heavy, deliberate, and powerful timbre109 of his voice there was always lurking110 this burble of exultant111, gargantuan112 obscenity: it was so obviously part of the structure of his life, so obviously his only and natural means of expression, that it was impossible to condemn113 him. His epithet114 was limited and repetitive — but so, too, was Homer’s, and, like Homer, he saw no reason for changing what had already been used and found good.
He was a lewd and innocent man. Like Bascom, by comparison with these other people, he seemed to belong to some earlier, richer and grander period of the earth, and perhaps this was why there was more actual kinship and understanding between them than between any of the other members of the office. These other people — Friedman, Brill’s daughter Muriel, and Ward — belonged to the myriads115 of the earth, to those numberless swarms116 that with ceaseless pullulation fill the streets of life with their grey immemorable tides. But Brill and Bascom were men in a thousand, a million: if one had seen them in a crowd he would have looked after them, if one had talked with them, he could never have forgotten them.
It is rare in modern life that one sees a man who can express himself with such complete and abundant certainty as Brill did — completely and without doubt or confusion. It is true that his life expressed itself chiefly by three gestures — by profanity, by his great roar of full-throated, earth-shaking laughter, and by flatulence, an explosive comment on existence which usually concluded and summarized his other means of expression.
Although the other people in the office laughed heartily at this soaring rhetoric118 of obscenity, it sometimes proved too much for Uncle Bascom. When this happened he would either leave the office immediately or stump119 furiously into his own little cupboard that seemed silted120 over with the dust of twenty years, slamming the door behind him so violently that the thin partition rattled121, and then stand for a moment pursing his lips, and convolving his features with incredible speed, and shaking his gaunt head slightly from side to side, until at length he whispered in a tone of passionate disgust and revulsion: “Oh, BAD! BAD! BAD! By every GESTURE! by every ACT! he betrays the BOOR122, the VULGARIAN! Can you imagine”— here his voice sank even lower in its scale of passionate whispering repugnance123 —“can you for one MOMENT imagine a man of BREEDING and the social graces breaking wind publicly? — And before his own daughter. Oh, BAD! BAD! BAD! BAD!”
And in the silence, while Uncle Bascom stood shaking his head in its movement of downcast and convulsive distaste, they could hear, suddenly, the ripping noise Brill would make as his pungent124 answer to all the world — and his great bellow125 of throaty laughter. Later on, if Bascom had to consult him on any business, he would open his door abruptly126, walk out into Brill’s office clutching his hands together at his waist, and with disgust still carved upon his face, say: “Well, sir. . . . If you have concluded your morning devotions,” here his voice sank to a bitter snarl128, “we might get down to the transaction of some of the day’s business.”
“Why, Reverend!” Brill roared. “You ain’t heard nothin’ yet!”
And the great choking bellow of laughter would burst from him again, rattling129 the windows with its power as he hurled130 his great weight backward, with complete abandon, in his creaking swivel-chair.
It was obvious that he liked to tease the old man, and never lost an opportunity of doing so: for example, if anyone gave Uncle Bascom a cigar, Brill would exclaim with an air of innocent surprise: “Why, REVEREND, you’re not going to smoke that, are you?”
“Why, certainly,” Bascom said tartly131. “That is the purpose for which it was intended, isn’t it?”
“Why, yes,” said Brill, “but you know how they make ’em, don’t you? I didn’t think you’d touch it after some dirty old Spaniard has wiped his old hands all over it — yes! an’ SPIT upon it, too, because that’s what they do!”
“Ah!” Bascom snarled132 contemptuously. “You don’t know what you’re talking about! There is nothing cleaner than good tobacco! Finest and healthiest plant on earth! No question about it!”
“Well,” said Brill, “I’ve learned something. We live and learn, Reverend. You’ve taught me somethin’ worth knowing: when it’s free it’s clean; when you have to pay for it it stinks133 like hell!” He pondered heavily for a moment, and the burble began to play about in his great throat: “And by God!” he concluded, “tobacco’s not the only thing that applies to, either. Not by a damned sight!”
Again, one morning when his nephew was there, Bascom cleared his throat portentously134, coughed, and suddenly said to him: “Now, Eugene, my boy, you are going to have lunch with me today. There’s no question about it whatever!” This was astonishing news, for he had never before invited the youth to eat with him when he came to his office, although the boy had been to his house for dinner many times. “Yes, sir!” said Bascom, with an air of conviction and satisfaction. “I have thought it all over. There is a splendid establishment in the basement of this building — small, of course, but everything clean and of the highest order! It is conducted by an Irish gentleman whom I have known for many years. Finest people on earth: no question about it!”
It was an astonishing and momentous135 occasion; the boy knew how infrequently he went to a restaurant. Having made his decision, Uncle Bascom immediately stepped into the outer offices and began to discuss and publish his intentions with the greatest satisfaction.
“Yes, sir!” he said in a precise tone, smacking136 his lips in a ruminant fashion, and addressing himself to everyone rather than to a particular person. “We shall go in and take our seats in the regular way, and I shall then give appropriate instructions to one of the attendants —” again he smacked137 his lips as he pronounced this word with such an indescribable air of relish138 that immediately the boy’s mouth began to water, and the delicious pangs139 of appetite and hunger began to gnaw140 his vitals —“I shall say: ‘This is my nephew, a young man now enrolled141 at Harvard Un-i-ver-sit-tee!’"— here Bascom smacked his lips together again with that same maddening air of relish —”‘Yes, sir’ (I shall say!)—‘You are to fulfil his order without STINT142, without DELAY, and without QUESTION, and to the UTMOST of your ability’"— he howled, wagging his great bony forefinger through the air —“As for myself,” he declared abruptly, “I shall take nothing. Good Lord, no!” he said with a scornful laugh. “I wouldn’t touch a thing they had to offer. You couldn’t pay me to: I shouldn’t sleep for a month if I did. But you, my boy!” he howled, turning suddenly upon his nephew, “— are to have everything your heart desires! Everything, everything, everything!” He made an inclusive gesture with his long arms; then closed his eyes, stamped at the floor, and began to snuffle with laughter.
Mr. Brill had listened to all this with his great-jowled face slack-jawed and agape with astonishment. Now, he said heavily: “He’s goin’ to have everything, is he? Where are you goin’ to take him to git it?”
“Why, sir!” Bascom said in an annoyed tone, “I have told you all along — we are going to the modest but excellent establishment in the basement of this very building.”
“Why, Reverend,” Brill said in a protesting tone, “you ain’t goin’ to take your nephew THERE, are you? I thought you said you was goin’ to git somethin’ to EAT.”
“I had supposed,” Bascom said with bitter sarcasm144, “that one went there for that purpose. I had not supposed that one went there to get shaved.”
“Well,” said Brill, “if you go there you’ll git shaved, all right. You’ll not only git SHAVED, you’ll git SKINNED alive. But you won’t git anything to eat.” And he hurled himself back again, roaring with laughter.
“Pay no attention to him!” Bascom said to the boy in a tone of bitter repugnance. “I have long known that his low and vulgar mind attempts to make a joke of everything, even the most sacred matters. I assure you, my boy, the place is excellent in every way:— do you suppose,” he said now, addressing Brill and all the others, with a howl of fury —“do you suppose, if it were not, that I should for a single moment DREAM of taking him there? Do you suppose that I would for an instant CONTEMPLATE145 taking my own nephew, my sister’s son, to any place in which I did not repose146 the fullest confidence? Not on your life!” he howled. “Not on your life!”
And they departed, followed by Brill’s great bellow, and a farewell invitation which he shouted after the young man. “Don’t worry, son! When you git through with that cockroach147 stew148, come back an’ I’ll take you out to lunch with ME!”
Although Brill delighted in teasing and baiting his partner in this fashion, there was, at the bottom of his heart, a feeling of deep humility149, of genuine respect and admiration150 for him: he respected Uncle Bascom’s intelligence, he was secretly and profoundly impressed by the fact that the old man had been a minister of the gospel and had preached in many churches.
Moreover, in the respect and awe143 with which Brill greeted these evidences of Bascom’s superior education, in the eagerness he showed when he boasted to visitors, as he often did, of his partner’s learning, there was a quality of pride that was profoundly touching151 and paternal152: it was as if Bascom had been his son and as if he wanted at every opportunity to display his talents to the world. And this, in fact, was exactly what he did want to do. Much to Bascom’s annoyance153, Brill was constantly speaking of his erudition to strangers who had come into the office for the first time, and constantly urging him to perform for them, to “say some of them big words, Reverend.” And even when the old man answered him, as he frequently did, in terms of scorn, anger, and contempt, Brill was completely satisfied if Uncle Bascom would only use a few of the “big words” in doing it. Thus, one day, when one of his boyhood friends, a New Hampshire man whom he had not seen in thirty-five years, had come in to renew their acquaintance Brill, in describing the accomplishments154 of his partner, said with an air of solemn affirmation: “Why, hell yes, Jim! It’d take a college perfesser to know what the Reverend is talkin’ about half the time! No ordinary son of a bitch is able to understand him! So help me God, it’s true!” he swore solemnly, as Jim looked incredulous. “The Reverend knows words the average man ain’t never heard. He knows words that ain’t even in the dictionary. Yes, sir! — an’ uses ’em, too — all the time!” he concluded triumphantly155.
“Why, my dear sir!” Bascom answered in a tone of exacerbated156 contempt, “What on earth are you talking about? Such a man as you describe would be a monstrosity, a heinous157 perversion158 of natural law! A man so wise that no one could understand him:— so literate159 that he could not communicate with his fellow-creatures:— so erudite that he led the inarticulate and incoherent life of a beast or a savage160!”— here Uncle Bascom squinted161 his eyes tightly shut, and laughed sneeringly162 down his nose: “Phuh! phuh! phuh! phuh! phuh! — Why, you consum-mate fool!” he sneered163, “I have long known that your ignorance was bottomless — but I had never hoped to see it equalled — Nay164, surpassed!” he howled, “by your asininity165.”
“There you are!” said Brill exultantly166 to his visitor, “What did I tell you? There’s one of them words, Jim: ‘asserninity,’ why, damn it, the Reverend’s the only one who knows what that word means — you won’t even find it in the dictionary!”
“Not find it in the dictionary!” Bascom yelled. “Almighty God, come down and give this ass4 a tongue as Thou didst once before in Balaam’s time!”
Again, Brill was seated at his desk one day engaged with a client in those intimate, cautious, and confidential167 preliminaries that mark the consummation of a “deal” in real estate. On this occasion the prospective168 buyer was an Italian: the man sat awkwardly and nervously169 in a chair beside Brill’s desk while the great man bent his huge weight ponderously170 and persuasively171 toward him. From time to time the Italian’s voice, sullen172, cautious, disparaging173, interrupted Brill’s ponderous and coaxing174 drone. The Italian sat stiffly, his thick, clumsy body awkwardly clad in his “good” clothes of heavy black, his thick, hairy, blunt-nailed hands cupped nervously upon his knees, his black eyes glittering with suspicion under his knitted inch of brow. At length, he shifted nervously, rubbed his paws tentatively across his knees and then, with a smile mixed of ingratiation and mistrust, said: “How mucha you want, eh?”
“How mucha we want?” Brill repeated vulgarly as the burble began to play about within his throat. “Why, how mucha you got? . . . You know we’ll take every damn thing you got! It’s not how mucha we want, it’s how mucha you got!” And he hurled himself backward, bellowing175 with laughter. “By God, Reverend,” he yelled as Uncle Bascom entered, “ain’t that right? It’s not how mucha we want, it’s how mucha you got! ‘od damn! We ought to take that as our motter. I’ve got a good mind to git it printed on our letterheads. What do you think, Reverend?”
“Hey?” howled Uncle Bascom absently, as he prepared to enter his own office.
“I say we ought to use it for our motter.”
“Your what?” said Uncle Bascom scornfully, pausing as if he did not understand.
“Our motter,” Brill said.
“Not your MOTTER,” Bascom howled derisively176. “The word is NOT motter,” he said contemptuously. “Nobody of any refinement177 would say MOTTER. MOTTER is NOT correct!” he howled finally. “Only an ig-no-RAM-us would say MOTTER. No!” he yelled with final conclusiveness178. “That is NOT the way to pronounce it! That is abso-lute-ly and emphat-ic-ally NOT the way to pronounce it!”
“All right, then, Reverend,” said Brill, submissively. “You’re the doctor. What is the word?”
“The word is MOTTO,” Uncle Bascom snarled. “Of course! Any fool knows that!”
“Why, hell,” Mr. Brill protested in a hurt tone. “That’s what I said, ain’t it?”
“No-o!” Uncle Bascom howled derisively. “No-o! By no means, by no means, by no means! You said MOTTER. The word is NOT motter. The word is motto: m-o-t-t-o! M-O-T-T-O does NOT spell motter,” he remarked with vicious decision.
“What does it spell?” said Mr. Brill.
“It spells MOTTO,” Uncle Bascom howled. “It HAS always spelled motto! It WILL always spell motto! As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be: A-a-men!” he howled huskily in his most evangelical fashion. Then, immensely pleased at his wit, he closed his eyes, stamped at the floor, and snarled and snuffled down his nose with laughter.
“Well, anyway,” said Brill, “no matter how you spell it, it’s not how mucha we want, it’s how mucha you got! That’s the way we feel about it!”
And this, in fact, without concealment179, without pretence180, without evasion181, was just how Brill DID feel about it. He wanted everything that was his and, in addition, he wanted as much as he could get. And this rapacity182, this brutal183 and unadorned gluttony, so far from making men wary184 of him, attracted them to him, inspired them with unshakable confidence in his integrity, his business honesty. Perhaps the reason for this was that concealment did not abide185 in the man: he published his intentions to the world with an oath and a roar of laughter — and the world, having seen and judged, went away with the confidence of this Italian — that Brill was “one fine-a man!” Even Bascom, who had so often turned upon his colleague the weapons of scorn, contempt, and mockery, had a curious respect for him, an acrid186 sunken affection: often, when the old man and his nephew were alone, he would recall something Brill had said and his powerful and fluent features would suddenly be contorted in that familiar grimace, as he laughed his curious laugh which was forced out, with a deliberate and painful effort, through his powerful nose and his lips, barred with a few large teeth. “Phuh! phuh! phuh! phuh! phuh! . . . Of course!” he said, with a nasal rumination187, as he stared over the apex188 of his great bony hands, clasped in meditation189 —“of course, he is just a poor ignorant fellow! I don’t suppose — no, sir, I really do not suppose that Brill ever went to school over six months in his life! — Say!” Bascom paused suddenly, turned abruptly with his strange fixed190 grin, and fastened his sharp old eyes keenly on the boy: in this sudden and abrupt127 change, this transference of his vision from his own secret and personal world, in which his thought and feeling were sunken, and which seemed to be so far away from the actual world about him, there was something impressive and disconcerting. His eyes were grey, sharp, and old, and one eyelid191 had a heavy droop192 or ptosis which, although it did not obscure his vision, gave his expression at times a sinister193 glint, a malevolent194 humour. “— Say!” here his voice sank to a deliberate and confiding whisper, “(Phuh! phuh! phuh! phuh! phuh!) Say — a man who would — he told me — Oh, vile195! vile! vile! my boy!” his uncle whispered, shutting his eyes in a kind of shuddering196 ecstasy197 as if at the memory of things too gloriously obscene to be repeated. “Can you IMAGINE, can you even DREAM of such a state of affairs if he had possessed198 an atom, a SCINTILLA199 of delicacy200 and good breeding! Yes, sir!” he said with decision. “I suppose there’s no doubt about it! His beginnings were very lowly, very poor and humble201 indeed! . . . Not that that is in any sense to his discredit202!” Uncle Bascom said hastily, as if it had occurred to him that his words might bear some taint117 of snobbishness203. “Oh, by no means, by no means, by no means!” he sang out, with a sweeping204 upward gesture of his long arm, as if he were clearing the air of wisps of smoke. “Some of our finest men — some of the nation’s LEADERS, have come from just such surroundings as those. Beyond a doubt! Beyond a doubt! There’s no question about it whatever! Say!”— here he turned suddenly upon the boy again with the ptotic and sinister intelligence of his eye. “Was LINCOLN an aristocrat205? Was he the issue of wealthy parents? Was he brought up with a silver spoon in his mouth? Was our OWN former governor, the Vice–President of the United States today, reared in the lap of luxury! Not on your life!” howled Uncle Bascom. “He came from frugal206 and thrifty207 Vermont farming stock, he has never deviated208 a JOT209 from his early training, he remains210 today what he has always been — one of the simplest of men! Finest people on earth, no question about it whatever!”
Again, he meditated211 gravely with lost stare across the apex of his great joined hands, and the boy noticed again, as he had noticed so often, the great dignity of his head in thought — a head that was high-browed, lean and lonely, a head that not only in its cast of thought but even in its physical contour, and in its profound and lonely earnestness, bore an astonishing resemblance to that of Emerson — it was, at times like these, as grand a head as the young man had ever seen, and on it was legible the history of man’s loneliness, his dignity, his grandeur212 and despair.
“Yes, sir!” said Bascom, in a moment. “He is, of course, a vulgar fellow and some of the things he says at times are Oh, vile! vile! vile!” cried Bascom, closing his eyes and laughing, “Oh, vile! MOST vile! . . . but (phuh! phuh! phuh!) you can’t help laughing at the fellow at times because he is so. . . . Oh, I could tell you things, my boy! . . . Oh, VILE! VILE!” he cried, shaking his head downwards. “What coarseness! . . . What inVECT-ive!” he whispered, in a kind of ecstasy.
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1
cubicle
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| n.大房间中隔出的小室 | |
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varnished
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| 浸渍过的，涂漆的 | |
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3
glazed
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| adj.光滑的，像玻璃的；上过釉的；呆滞无神的v.装玻璃( glaze的过去式)；上釉于，上光；（目光）变得呆滞无神 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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5
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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7
tattered
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| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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8
ponderous
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| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
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9
notations
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| 记号，标记法( notation的名词复数 ) | |
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10
margins
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| 边( margin的名词复数 )； 利润； 页边空白； 差数 | |
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annotated
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| v.注解，注释( annotate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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12
laborious
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| adj.吃力的，努力的，不流畅 | |
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13
meticulous
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| adj.极其仔细的，一丝不苟的 | |
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14
eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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15
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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16
undo
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| vt.解开，松开；取消，撤销 | |
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17
latches
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| n.（门窗的）门闩( latch的名词复数 )；碰锁v.理解( latch的第三人称单数 )；纠缠；用碰锁锁上（门等）；附着（在某物上） | |
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18
inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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19
blizzards
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| 暴风雪( blizzard的名词复数 )； 暴风雪似的一阵，大量（或大批） | |
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20
tapering
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| adj.尖端细的 | |
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21
downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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22
ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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23
tapered
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| adj. 锥形的，尖削的，楔形的，渐缩的，斜的 动词taper的过去式和过去分词 | |
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24
automaton
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| n.自动机器，机器人 | |
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25
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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26
banality
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| n.陈腐；平庸；陈词滥调 | |
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27
swarming
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| 密集( swarm的现在分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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28
prim
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| adj.拘泥形式的，一本正经的；n.循规蹈矩，整洁；adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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29
thawing
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| n.熔化，融化v.（气候）解冻( thaw的现在分词 )；（态度、感情等）缓和；（冰、雪及冷冻食物）溶化；软化 | |
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30
thaw
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| v.（使）融化，（使）变得友善；n.融化，缓和 | |
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31
axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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32
monologue
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| n.长篇大论，（戏剧等中的）独白 | |
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33
assent
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| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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34
auditor
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| n.审计员，旁听着 | |
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35
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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36
belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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37
snugly
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| adv.紧贴地；贴身地；暖和舒适地；安适地 | |
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38
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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39
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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40
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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41
dome
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| n.圆屋顶，拱顶 | |
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42
suavely
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43
ushering
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的现在分词 ) | |
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44
defrauded
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| v.诈取，骗取( defraud的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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45
contriving
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| （不顾困难地）促成某事( contrive的现在分词 )； 巧妙地策划，精巧地制造（如机器）； 设法做到 | |
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46
rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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47
maniac
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| n.精神癫狂的人；疯子 | |
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48
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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49
monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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50
grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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51
demonstration
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| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
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52
supercilious
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| adj.目中无人的，高傲的；adv.高傲地；n.高傲 | |
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53
winks
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| v.使眼色( wink的第三人称单数 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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54
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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55
lewd
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| adj.淫荡的 | |
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56
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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57
complacently
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| adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
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58
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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59
nosy
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| adj.鼻子大的，好管闲事的，爱追问的；n.大鼻者 | |
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60
random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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61
prod
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| vt.戳，刺；刺激，激励 | |
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62
pucker
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| v.撅起，使起皱；n.（衣服上的）皱纹，褶子 | |
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63
disapproval
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| n.反对，不赞成 | |
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64
forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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65
foully
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| ad.卑鄙地 | |
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66
traduced
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| v.诋毁( traduce的过去式和过去分词 )；诽谤；违反；背叛 | |
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67
conclusive
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| adj.最后的，结论的；确凿的，消除怀疑的 | |
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68
disapproved
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| v.不赞成( disapprove的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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69
confiding
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| adj.相信人的，易于相信的v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的现在分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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70
vacancy
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| n.（旅馆的）空位，空房，（职务的）空缺 | |
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71
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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72
loathing
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| n.厌恶，憎恨v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的现在分词)；极不喜欢 | |
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73
resonant
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| adj.(声音)洪亮的，共鸣的 | |
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74
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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75
passionate
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| 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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76
evoked
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| [医]诱发的 | |
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craftily
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| 狡猾地，狡诈地 | |
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78
squinting
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| 斜视( squint的现在分词 )； 眯着眼睛； 瞟； 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
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79
stimulus
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| n.刺激，刺激物，促进因素，引起兴奋的事物 | |
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80
exulting
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| vi. 欢欣鼓舞，狂喜 | |
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81
stenographer
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| n.速记员 | |
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82
enigma
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| n.谜，谜一样的人或事 | |
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83
peculiarities
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| n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
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84
eccentricity
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| n.古怪，反常，怪癖 | |
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85
fluctuation
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| n.(物价的)波动，涨落；周期性变动；脉动 | |
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86
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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87
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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88
ridicule
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| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
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89
habitually
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| ad.习惯地，通常地 | |
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90
banter
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| n.嘲弄，戏谑；v.取笑，逗弄，开玩笑 | |
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91
conspiracy
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| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
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92
ignoble
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| adj.不光彩的，卑鄙的；可耻的 | |
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93
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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94
joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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95
tirades
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| 激烈的长篇指责或演说( tirade的名词复数 ) | |
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96
invective
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| n.痛骂，恶意抨击 | |
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97
logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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98
relentless
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| adj.残酷的，不留情的，无怜悯心的 | |
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99
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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100
impersonal
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| adj.无个人感情的，与个人无关的，非人称的 | |
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101
tinged
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| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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102
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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103
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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104
profane
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| adj.亵神的，亵渎的；vt.亵渎，玷污 | |
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105
impersonality
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| n.无人情味 | |
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106
physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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107
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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108
pendulous
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| adj.下垂的；摆动的 | |
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109
timbre
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| n.音色，音质 | |
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110
lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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111
exultant
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| adj.欢腾的，狂欢的，大喜的 | |
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112
gargantuan
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| adj.巨大的，庞大的 | |
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113
condemn
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| vt.谴责，指责；宣判(罪犯)，判刑 | |
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114
epithet
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| n.（用于褒贬人物等的）表述形容词，修饰语 | |
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115
myriads
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| n.无数，极大数量( myriad的名词复数 ) | |
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116
swarms
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| 蜂群，一大群( swarm的名词复数 ) | |
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117
taint
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| n.污点；感染；腐坏；v.使感染；污染 | |
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118
rhetoric
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| n.修辞学，浮夸之言语 | |
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119
stump
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| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
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120
silted
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| v.（河流等）为淤泥淤塞( silt的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）淤塞 | |
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121
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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122
boor
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| n.举止粗野的人；乡下佬 | |
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123
repugnance
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| n.嫌恶 | |
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124
pungent
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| adj.（气味、味道）刺激性的，辛辣的；尖锐的 | |
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125
bellow
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| v.吼叫，怒吼；大声发出，大声喝道 | |
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126
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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127
abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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128
snarl
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| v.吼叫，怒骂，纠缠，混乱；n.混乱，缠结，咆哮 | |
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129
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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130
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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131
tartly
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| adv.辛辣地，刻薄地 | |
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132
snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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133
stinks
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| v.散发出恶臭( stink的第三人称单数 )；发臭味；名声臭；糟透 | |
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134
portentously
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135
momentous
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| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
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136
smacking
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| 活泼的，发出响声的，精力充沛的 | |
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137
smacked
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| 拍，打，掴( smack的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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138
relish
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| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
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139
pangs
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| 突然的剧痛( pang的名词复数 )； 悲痛 | |
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140
gnaw
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| v.不断地啃、咬；使苦恼，折磨 | |
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141
enrolled
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| adj.入学登记了的v.[亦作enrol]( enroll的过去式和过去分词 )；登记，招收，使入伍（或入会、入学等），参加，成为成员；记入名册；卷起，包起 | |
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142
stint
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| v.节省，限制，停止；n.舍不得化，节约，限制；连续不断的一段时间从事某件事 | |
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143
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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144
sarcasm
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| n.讥讽，讽刺，嘲弄，反话 （adj.sarcastic） | |
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145
contemplate
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| vt.盘算，计议；周密考虑；注视，凝视 | |
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146
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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147
cockroach
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| n.蟑螂 | |
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148
stew
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| n.炖汤，焖，烦恼；v.炖汤，焖，忧虑 | |
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149
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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150
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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151
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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152
paternal
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| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
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153
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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154
accomplishments
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| n.造诣；完成( accomplishment的名词复数 )；技能；成绩；成就 | |
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155
triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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156
exacerbated
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| v.使恶化，使加重( exacerbate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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157
heinous
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| adj.可憎的，十恶不赦的 | |
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158
perversion
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| n.曲解；堕落；反常 | |
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159
literate
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| n.学者；adj.精通文学的，受过教育的 | |
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160
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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161
squinted
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| 斜视( squint的过去式和过去分词 )； 眯着眼睛； 瞟； 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
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162
sneeringly
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| 嘲笑地，轻蔑地 | |
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163
sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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164
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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165
asininity
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| n.愚钝 | |
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166
exultantly
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| adv.狂欢地，欢欣鼓舞地 | |
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167
confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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168
prospective
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| adj.预期的，未来的，前瞻性的 | |
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169
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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170
ponderously
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171
persuasively
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| adv.口才好地；令人信服地 | |
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172
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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173
disparaging
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| adj.轻蔑的，毁谤的v.轻视( disparage的现在分词 )；贬低；批评；非难 | |
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174
coaxing
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的现在分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱；“锻炼”效应 | |
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175
bellowing
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的现在分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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176
derisively
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| adv. 嘲笑地，嘲弄地 | |
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177
refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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178
conclusiveness
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| n.最后； 释疑； 确定性； 结论性 | |
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179
concealment
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| n.隐藏, 掩盖，隐瞒 | |
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180
pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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181
evasion
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| n.逃避，偷漏(税) | |
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182
rapacity
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| n.贪婪，贪心，劫掠的欲望 | |
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183
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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184
wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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185
abide
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| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
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186
acrid
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| adj.辛辣的，尖刻的，刻薄的 | |
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187
rumination
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| n.反刍，沉思 | |
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188
apex
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| n.顶点，最高点 | |
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189
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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190
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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191
eyelid
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| n.眼睑，眼皮 | |
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192
droop
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| v.低垂，下垂；凋萎，萎靡 | |
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193
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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194
malevolent
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| adj.有恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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195
vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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196
shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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197
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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198
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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199
scintilla
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| n.极少，微粒 | |
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200
delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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201
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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202
discredit
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| vt.使不可置信；n.丧失信义；不信，怀疑 | |
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203
snobbishness
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| 势利； 势利眼 | |
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204
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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205
aristocrat
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| n.贵族，有贵族气派的人，上层人物 | |
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206
frugal
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| adj.节俭的，节约的，少量的，微量的 | |
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207
thrifty
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| adj.节俭的；兴旺的；健壮的 | |
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208
deviated
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| v.偏离，越轨( deviate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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209
jot
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| n.少量；vi.草草记下；vt.匆匆写下 | |
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210
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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211
meditated
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| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
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212
grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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