The Town Week
It is odd that "Mondayish“ is the only word which the days of the week have given us since Monday is not alone in possessing a positive and peculiar character. Why not ”Tuesdayish“ or ”Wednesdayish“? Each word would convey as much meaning to me. ”Tuesdayish" in particular, for Monday’s cardinal and reprehensible error of beginning the business week seems to me almost a virtue compared with Tuesday’s utter flatness. To begin a new week is no fault at all, though tradition has branded it as one. To begin is a noble accomplishment; but to continue dully, to he the tame follower. of a courageous beginner, to be the second day in a week of action, as in Tuesday’s case — that is deplorable, if you like.
Monday can be flat enough, but in a different way from Tuesday. Monday is flat because one has been idling, perhaps unconsciously absorbing notions of living like the lilies; because so many days must pass before the week ends; because yesterday is no more. But Tuesday has the sheer essential flatness of nonentity; Tuesday is nothing. If you would know how absolutely nothing it is, go to a weekend hotel at, say Brighton, and stay on after the Saturday-to-Monday population has flitted. On Tuesday you touch the depths. So does the menu — no chef ever exerted himself for a Tuesday guest. Tuesday is also very difficult to spell, many otherwise cultured ladies putting the "e" before the "u": and why not? What right has Tuesday to any preference?
With all its faults, Monday has a positive character. Monday brings a feeling of revolt; Tuesday, the base craven, reconciles us to the machine. I am not surprised that the recent American revivalists held no meetings on Mondays. It was a mark of their astuteness; they knew that the wear and tear of overcoming the Monday feeling of the greater part of their audience would exhaust them before their magnetism began to have play; while a similarly stubborn difficulty would confront them in the remaining portion sunk in apathy by the thought that to-morrow would be Tuesday. It is this presage of certain tedium which has robbed Monday evening of its "glittering star". Yet since nothing so becomes a flat day as the death pf it, Tuesday evening’s glittering star (it is Wordsworth’s phrase) is of the brightest — for is not the dreary day nearly done, and is not to-morrow Wednesday the bland?
With Wednesday, the week stirs itself, turns over, begins to wake. There are matinees on Wednesday; on Wednesdays some of the more genial weekly papers come but. The very word has a good honest round air — Wednesday. Things, adventures, might happen very naturally on Wednesday; but that nothing ever happened on a Tuesday I am convinced. In summer Wednesday has often close finishes at Lord’s, and it is a day on which one’s friends are pretty sure to be accessible. On Monday they may not have returned from the country; on Friday they have begun to go out of town again; but on Wednesday they are here, at home — are solid. I am sure it is my favourite day.
(Even politicians, so slow as a rule to recognize the kindlier, more generous, side of life, realized for many years that Wednesday was a day on which they had no right to conduct their acrimonious business for more than an hour or so. Much of the failure of the last Government may be traced to their atheistical decision no longer to remember Wednesday to keep it holy.)
On Thursday the week falls back a little; the stirring of Wednesday is forgotten; there is a return to the folding of the hands. I am not sure that Thursday has not become the real day of rest. That it is a good honest day is the most that can be said for it. It is certainly not Thor’s day any longer — if my reading of the character of the blacksmith-god is true. There is nothing strong and downright and fine about it. Compared with Tuesday’s small beer, Thursday is almost champagne; but none the less they are related. One can group them together. If I were a business man, I should, I am certain, sell my shares at a loss on Monday and at a profit on Wednesday and Friday, but on Tuesday and Thursday I should get for them exactly what I gave.
I group Friday with Wednesday as a day that can be friendly to me, but it has not Wednesday’s quality. Wednesday is calm, assured, urbane; Friday allows itself to be a little flurried and excited. Wednesday stands alone; Friday to some extent throws in its lot with Saturday. Friday is too busy. Too many papers come out, too many bags are packed, on Friday. But herein, of course, is some of its virtue; it is the beginning of the end, the forerunner of Saturday and Sunday. If anticipation, as the moralists say, is better than the realization, Friday is perhaps the best day of the week, for one spends much of it in thinking of the morrow and what of good it should bring forth. Friday’s greatest merit is perhaps that it paves the way to Saturday and the cessation of work. That it ever was really unlucky I greatly doubt.
And so we come to Saturday and Sunday. But here the analyst falters, for Saturday and Sunday pass from the region of definable days. Monday and Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday and Friday, these arc days with a character fixed more or less for all. But Saturday and Sunday are what we individually make of them. In one family they arc friends, associates; in another as ill-assorted as Socrates and Xantippe. For most of us Saturday is not exactly a day at all, it is a collection of hours, part work, part pleasure, and all restlessness. It is a day that we plan for, and therefore it is often a failure. I have no distinct and unvarying impression of Saturday, except that trains arc full and late and shops shut too early.
Sunday even more than Saturday is different as people are different. To the godly it is a day of low tones, its minutes go by muffled; to the children of the godly it is eternity. To the ungodly it is a day jeopardized by an interest in barometers that is almost too poignant. To one man it is an interruption of the week; to another it is the week itself, and all the rest of the days are but preparations for it. One cannot analyse Saturday and Sunday.
But Monday? There we are on solid ground again. Monday — but I have discussed Monday already: that is one of its principal characteristics, that it is always coming round again, pretending to be new. It is always the same in reality.
Notes:
Mondayish: 疲劳，困倦，不想工作
Each word would convey as much meaning to me. ”Tuesdayish" in particular, for Monday’s cardinal and reprehensible error of beginning the business week seems to me almost a virtue compared with Tuesday’s utter flatness: 对我来说，每个词的意义都同样重要，特别是Tuesdayish这个词。星期一，一周生意开始，这固然是它该受责备的主要错误，但与星期二的平淡寡味相比，它几乎又是美德了。
notions of living like the lilies: 见《圣经·新约》中《马太福音》第六章：“你们观察，田野中的百合花是怎样生长的？它们不劳作，也不纺织。我告诉你们，就是所罗门在他最光荣的时候，所穿的，也比不上这花中的一朵！”
But Tuesday has the sheer essential flatness of nonentity: 然而，星期二枯燥无味，无足轻重
say Brighton: 比如说布莱顿吧（英国南部城市）
Saturday-to-Monday population: 周末休假的人
On Tuesday you touch the depths: 星期二你会感到情绪低落
otherwise cultured ladies: 在其他方面很有教养的女士
Tuesday, the base craven, reconciles us to the machine: 星期二这个卑鄙的懦夫使我们同机械的生活握手言和
revivalists: 信仰复兴者
they knew that the wear and tear of overcoming the Monday feeling of the greater part of their audience would exhaust them before their magnetism began to have play: 他们明白，他们的魅力还来不及显露，自己就已为克服大部分听众的星期一厌倦心理，而被折腾得筋疲力尽了
while a similarly stubborn difficulty would confront them in the remaining portion sunk in apathy by the thought that to-morrow would be Tuesday: 与此同时，一想到明天将是星期二，这一天余下的时间里，他们就会堕入一种冷漠的状态，面临一种顽固的困境
Yet since nothing so becomes a flat day as the death pf it, Tuesday evening’s glittering star (it is Wordsworth’s phrase) is of the brightest: 然而，死气沉沉的气氛正适合平淡乏味的日子，因此星期二之夜闪烁的星光（套用华兹华斯之语）最为明亮不过
The very word has a good honest round air:这个词本身念起来就很好听，浑厚而诚实
In summer Wednesday has often close finishes at Lord’s: 夏季的星期三，讯绝版球场常有势均力敌的比赛
solid: 此处意为聚在一起
acrimonious: 剧烈的，此处意为繁忙的
Much of the failure of the last Government may be traced to their atheistical decision no longer to remember Wednesday to keep it holy: 上届政府失败的很大一部分原因，是他们做出了渎神的决定，不再记住星期三，使它保持神圣
On Thursday the week falls back a little: 到了星期四，一周的时间好像放慢了一点
there is a return to the folding of the hands: 又回到想歇歇手的念头上来。
Thor: 北欧神话中的雷神
if my reading of the character of the blacksmith-god is true: 如果我没看错雷神的性格的话
There is nothing strong and downright and fine about it: 星期四毫无强烈、干脆、细腻之处
small beer: 淡啤酒
If I were a business man, I should, I am certain, sell my shares at a loss on Monday and at a profit on Wednesday and Friday, but on Tuesday and Thursday I should get for them exactly what I gave: 假如我是做生意的，我敢肯定星期一卖股票会亏本，星期三、星期五净赚，而星期二和星期四是既不亏又不赚的
Friday allows itself to be a little flurried and excited: 星期五则容许自己有些许激动和兴奋
Friday to some extent throws in its lot with Saturday: 星期五在某种程度上和星期六共命运、同甘苦
That it ever was really unlucky I greatly doubt: 我很怀疑它真的不幸
But here the analyst falters, for Saturday and Sunday pass from the region of definable days: 在这里，分析者有些踟蹰起来，因为星期六和星期日不在可明确规定的日子范围内
But Saturday and Sunday are what we individually make of them: 然而我们对星期六和星期日的看法因人而异，各不相同
Socrates and Xantippe: 苏格拉底和赞提皮（苏格拉底之妻，以泼悍著名）
To the godly it is a day of low tones, its minutes go by muffled: 对于善男信女，它是压低声音的一天，它24小时的分分秒秒都是捂着嘴巴过去的
To the ungodly it is a day jeopardized by an interest in barometers that is almost too poignant: 对于不敬鬼神的人，这一天全因为对晴雨表产生了过于强烈的兴趣而毁了
There we are on solid ground again: 我们有脚踏实地了
but I have discussed Monday already: that is one of its principal characteristics: 我所谈的话题本身就是星期一的一个主要特征
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