All the singers were called "ladies and
gentlemen;" and the one long room in which the performances took place
was simply furnished with a double row of benches, bearing troughs at
their backs for the reception of glasses of liquor.
Innocence itself must have seen at a glance that the Snuggery was an
utterly vicious place. Vice never so much as thought of wearing any
disguise here. No glimmer of wit played over the foul substance of the
songs that were sung, and hid it in dazzle from too close observation.
No relic of youth and freshness, no artfully-assumed innocence and
vivacity, concealed the squalid deterioration of the worn-out human
counterfeits which stood up to sing, and were coarsely painted and
padded to look like fine women. Their fellow performers among the men
were such sodden-faced blackguards as no shop-boy who applauded them at
night would dare to walk out with in the morning. The place itself had
as little of the allurement of elegance and beauty about it as the
people. Here was no bright gilding on the ceiling--no charm of
ornament, no comfort of construction even, in the furniture. Here were
no viciously-attractive pictures on the walls--no enervating sweet
odors in the atmosphere--no contrivances of ventilation to cleanse away
the stench of bad tobacco-smoke and brandy-flavored human breath with
which the room reeked all night long.
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